An episode of Mad Men-Afghanistan office.

This whole country, it seems, is set up for smokers. It's like being transported back to the 1960's. Ashcans are everywhere. There are  "smoking area" signs everywhere. There isn't one Non-smoking sign anywhere. Except in my vehicle. Turning on my a/c and having used cigar smoke emanate from the vents was most unpleasant. Being a San Franciscan this has taken some getting used to. Most of the folks I work with, at least, try and go down wind, but everyone I talk to lights up a butt. No "mind if I smoke" question. Michele, the new PA here, is a fellow Californian and is shocked by the whole thing. She, too, is violently anti-smoking. Adjust and {cough,cough} overcome. I was enjoying a morning cup of tea, watching the sunrise, a rare treat here, and noticed a water bottle taped to the rail. An ashtray. "This war brought to you by the good folks of Philip Morris." I usually tell all of my patients to quit smoking. I have given up. How do you quit in a stressful war zone, surrounded by smokers? Unless they are going to die if they don't quit, then we have "the talk."
Had another medevac yesterday. Went off without a hitch. My secret? I said all day long, out loud, "this is horrible, nothing is going right. This is so screwed up, I can't believe it, wtf?" A little reverse psychology. Take that Medevac Gods.....