How Getting Sidetracked By Pet Peeves Can Sometimes Lead You To Find A Good Book

I was recently asked by a newcomer to Interzone what my scariest moment in Iraq was. Speaking of newcomers, before I launch into that tale I'd like to take a moment to talk about a really annoying aspect of Interzone culture. I really hate talking to other Americans that live here; there is this thing that everybody does when you meet them as sort of a status gauge. One of the first questions these neanderthals always ask you is: "So, how long you been here?" As if the length of time you've lived pampered inside Interzone has anything to do with anything. You can always tell the ones that have been here for more than a year because they ask with a sort of smug pre-emptive gleam in their eye and an "I'm such a bad-ass old-timer" inflection in their voice: "So, how long you been here?", as if there is no chance anyone could have been here as long as they have. It's true that very few people stay longer than a year, but so what? Don't get me wrong, I love that I can say I lived in Baghdad for 3 years, but I'm acutely aware that, in and of itself, that is not really something to be proud of, and certainly is a retarded thing to use as a status gauge; It's not like, as an American, living in the Interzone is fraught with trials and tribulations and surviving them for three years is a measure of manliness. Really, the hardest thing about coming here was the initial decision to actually get on a plane and fly to freaking Iraq! Once you make the decision to come, and weather the doubt-filled flight to the middle east with a pit of "oh my god oh my god oh my god what am I doing?!" in your stomach, the rest is easy. Just being here isn't so bad, not for Interzone denizens, anyway. As the book reviewed in this article says, the Interzone is an Emerald City, with several thousand pampered contractors strutting around with power and water and pork and beer 24/7 acting as though they are total bad boys. The funniest thing I see on a daily basis are the Embassy rats; 300 pounder, late middle-aged men sauntering over to the dining facility with pistols strapped to their beefy thighs, with a look on their face much like an 8 year old whose father just got them their very first Red Rider BB gun for Christmas and is showing it off to his friends. I'm ranting about this because yesterday I was driving down the road in front of the new Embassy complex that they're building, and I noticed a gas point run by KBR on the side of the road. I've seen it before, but, what with our camp closing down and all that, my supplier has stopped sending us gasoline. The sign on the side of the station says 'KBR retail fuel'. Now, gasoline, called benzine locally, is a hot commodity in the IZ. I know very well that KBR is only allowed to provide fuel to the military or certain authorized others. But, seeing as how I don't have a supply of my own any more, and the sign actually says 'retail', I figured it was worth a shot. So I pull in and ask if I'm allowed to purchase fuel with cash, even though I don't have a fuel card, and the redneck KBR station manager laughed and said, "Naw, man. You gotta have a guv'mint card... you oughtta know that. How long you been here?" Argh! I resisted the urge to tell him three years, because I actually try not to play that game with people, as satisfying as it is to shut them up. Instead I just verbally abused him saying that the sign should not say retail then, and drove off. But I hate that! Seniority is stupid, and besides the point. The fellow that wrote this book (Rajiv Chandrasekaran) was only here for a year or so, but I'll wager he is far more knowledgable and worthy of respect than I am.
Anyway, sorry for the pet peeve post. Sometimes it's just good to complain. (Sometimes? Does being aware of your self-delusions negate them, or make you a worse person for continuing to tolerate them within yourself?) And I actually had no intention of going on for so long about it... I wanted to write about my scariest moment in Iraq! Well, I will save that one for tomorrow, maybe.

Comments

[hooligan]

Get rid of self-delusion? What kind of sick commie are you? When you "delude", you make a "lude" out of... wait. No. Never mind.