- Edsger W. Dijkstra
Friends and Family,
I have been asked to put a rating/warning on these posts, and I quote:
“Dude, you should start these things with a warning meter of a 1 to 10 rating. 1 being "may cause a smile" a 10 being "make sure your bladder and bowels are empty before reading." Please, for the sake of my pants.”
My response: “OK, all my entries are 47s then. Except the depressed ones.”
And now, for today’s post:
This morning was the first “early morning” because we had to get up, make it to the Consulate by 0600 to follow them out to a range in the middle of the desert.
I guess we are supposed to fire off 50 pistol rounds every 3 months to keep up our proficiency and of course, the Marines run the range for these guys. Never mind that we just got here, we were in charge and everyone (including us) were just fine with that.
Ironically, it was the first time in awhile that I slept decently and it was cut short.
We met at the Consulate and caravanned way out into the desert for an hour and a half where we found ourselves at a range, or more commonly known as, the side of the dirt road in the middle of the desert. The final few miles were so bumpy that everything in the car rattled violently, to include our teeth fillings.
We were just a “tag along” group. The shoot was actually to qualify the guards for the Consulate which I can’t go into detail but these foreign guys are of a higher caliber of the average TCN guards you see around here since the Consulate was attacked a few years ago. As a result, they pulled in some pretty hardcore guards led by some people who have next to no patience with them.
The main one is an Australian special forces type who couldn’t stream together more than three words without including the most vile, insulting, brutal language I’ve ever heard. It’s just the way these guys are trained. Fun to watch, not so fun to be on the receiving end.
We waited around for a long time, waiting for our turn to have the range for the 20 minutes it would take for us to cook off our rounds. The temperatures started in the 90s and crept up into triple digits by mid-morning. The wind kicked up also so it was hot, dry, windy, and sandblasted.
I continuously drank as much water as my stomach could hold but only had to go to the bathroom once. I was so happy to enter the small cement building that housed the bathroom and saw real toilets. Most of the time, there is just a porcelain hole in the ground and a water hose next to it. The idea is squat, do your business, TAKE YOUR LEFT HAND TO…..yeah, and then use the water hose to clean your hand.
Say it with me, people: SHIRT!!!!!!
For some reason, I was curious to see what was at the end of stalls and when I got to the last one, I saw something I couldn’t believe: urinals!!!!
Could my eyes deceive me? Real urinals? Here? What’s next, pork negligees?
I sauntered up to one of them like I was in the Wild Wild West (yes, I sauntered) and was happy to participate in even the simplest American pleasure: NOT pissing in a hole.
My reverie was interrupted when I heard running water.
Nearby.
Below me.
I look down and what did I see?
The bottom of the urinal where the hose should have been connected to something … wasn't.
It just ran right into the urinal, down the drain, down the tube, and onto the cement below me.
Now THAT’S the Saudi Arabia I know.
Of course.
Good thing I went into a cement room in the middle of a desert just to piss on a cement slab.
We waited around, mostly in our air-conditioned vehicles, until we were given the range and then Mike took over.
A couple of things were obvious:
1. Mike was the junior and newest man in the group
2. Mike was the highest qualified to teach basic marksmanship
3. The other military guys had very little experience with the pistol
4. Even though I am at the lower end of handling a pistol in the Corps, I was the second best pistolman in the group. By far.
Mike took them through some of the drills we learned in Quantico in the High Risk Personnel class. It seems that in the past, they pretty much just came out and cooked off 50 rounds and called it good. They really liked all the quick-reaction drills we had them do, the failure drills, the double-feed recovery, immediate action, etc.
I was not shooting, just helping running the course and it became evident that we shouldn’t get too sexy with the course of fire and the best we could hope for is that no one got shot. Neither of us expected them to be as shaky with the pistol as they were.
And it really highlighted the ability of the Marines. It was obvious that Mike was an expert but even I, who is at the shallow end of the pistol pool, knew more than I thought I did about the basics. Especially compared to the other service members.
When we got done, we headed back and was glad to get out of the sun. Being cooked and sandblasted all morning was not all that fun but we made it back, changed over, and hit the gym. Didn’t really want to work out but we did anyway.
Afterwards, I went for my haircut. I don’t know if my hair is growing faster over here or if he just didn’t get close enough last time. Whatever the reason, I had a white down all around the sides and back that I was eager to get rid of.
Free Advice: never tell a barber to use the straight razor from half-way down your head and then work from there.
Why?
Because he’ll use the straight razor from half-way down your head and then TRY to work from there.
I had chicken skin halfway down but to get rid of the line was obviously beyond his abilities. He gave it a good shot but went just a little high with the shave and couldn’t pull off the fade in time.
Oh, well, he’ll get another shot on Friday because it’s so cheap over here (about $6) that I can get two haircuts a week.
And it will be awhile before I need the top touched, ever since my encounter with Achmed the Butcher.
My big goal for the night was to get an alarm clock. I have yet another idiosyncrasy in that I wake up several times a night to check the time. At home, I had a clock radio on my dresser and one across the room just so I can see the time no matter what position I happen to be in my bed.
Yes, it’s that bad.
So when I got here and there was not alarm clocks in the bedrooms, I knew I had to get one but have not made my way out in town to get one. I have been using my watch and cell phone as alarms but each night, I wake up and have to open my cell or find my watch in the dark to see what time it is.
Been.
Driving.
Me.
Nuts!
So here was the set of events and how they unfolded:
I wanted to go to the eXtra store which is the big electronics store here (“Sony guts!!”), so I hear.
But I didn’t know where it was and I have to have someone with me if I go out in town. My thought was that I could ask Russ, who gave me the DVD player because he’s a tech guy.
I didn’t have Russ’s number and didn’t know exactly where he lived so where else but the Brit’s place was there to start? This ran a risk because I was afraid that if they knew I needed an alarm clock, they would just give me theirs. That’s just the way they are.
When I got there, another one of us military types (Navy) was there. We got to talking and I ended up asking him to go with me.
As we left, he told me that he had two clocks he didn’t use (what is WITH these people?) and I could have one. He took over the villa that belonged to the last Marine Captain so he gave me the one that belonged to him.
He must have bought it here because it’s like via 1970.
First of all, it’s analog.
Second, it has glow in the dark numbers that don’t glow in the dark.
Third, it runs on batteries.
Fourth, to see it at night, you have to push the snooze button and click it so a little bulb in the upper left corner lights up. So the left side of the face is nice and bright where the right side is progressively less lit up, kind of like those shots of the Earth from space where you can see nightfall creep across the globe.
But it was free and if I can’t live with it, I’ll end up buying one later.
The last adventure of the night was trying to watch one of the first-run movies that we get on VCR tape (“Vantage Point” this time). But I had only hooked up the VCR once (you have to make some plug connections each time you want to watch either the DVD, VCR, or TV) and couldn’t remember how, exactly.
There I am, Mr. Techie, and I was getting my ass handed to me by a VCR/TV set up. I tried a few different combinations before determining that Roomie must have taken the cable I needed with him, the bloody wanker… (damn Brits!).
The VCR didn’t accept three connectors (red, white, yellow) so I thought he had taken the two connector cable with his game box.
But then I figured out how to route the RF cable in and it worked just fine.
Well, about 15-minutes fine before I calculated that I would be getting about 4 ½ hours of sleep if I went to bed right at that minute.
Tomorrow, another hot day in the desert with another set of shooters.
Free FML for Today: “Today, I had a job interview. When I got there, the lady interviewing me shook my hand and said, 'Hello, I'm gay.' I found this strange and I didn't know what to say, so I stated, 'Aw, it's OK, I support you.' She looked pretty offended, and I realized why when I found out that her name was Gaye. FML.”
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