Note to readers: artifacts mentioned and dated references to a bygone era may confuse anyone born after the 1992. The story, characters, and incidents portrayed are true. Some character names have been changed due to the haze of memory.
From Kuwait to the USA Military travel can be a lot like bowling. With every movement across the glossy hardwood lane of life, you anticipate a strike, if you’re lucky, but usually end up with a spare or gutter ball.
From Ali Al Salem to Camp Arifjan I awoke one Friday morning after a few glorious hours of sleep. It was August 28 in the year of the virus. My mission that morning was to find my lost duffel bag. If you recall, this was the bag with all my clothes in it that had
Al Udeid to Ali Al Salem I must have slept for six or seven hours. It was midday, and the lights were still off. The two or three other transients inside were sleeping as well. I knew that I should probably get up and eat.
It’s strange to be back in the US. Everyone has been dealing with the pandemic and lockdowns, and here I show up, ready to party. There’s lost time to be made up here, about a month, by my estimates.