Maybe I can just use the rocks in my head...

When I came here a year ago someone told me to bring some "mud boots." That was one of the best suggestions ever. We live on a dirt base. Very few paved roads here. When it rains it turns in to a mud base. With flooding. And rocket attacks.
The temperature has dropped down to 28 degrees in the morning and the big puddle that has formed in the front of the clinic between the physical exam tent and the bathrooms has turned into a skating rink.
A muddy, semi-frozen skating rink, causing two people to fall. The problem is a low spot and a shortage of rocks that we have in our driveway. We requested more rock in December but it was denied. No acceptable. I was on a mission, get more rocks. I went to the head of the safety department and explained the problem. "Get more rocks," he said. Then he called the Site Manager for rocks. Off I went to her office. She barley speaks english. Great. "no rock," she says in her Russian accent."Risk management has rock."  Thank you Natasha. Say hello to Boris.  "Why do lawyers have rocks?" I wondered. Of course they do, this is Afghanistan. Off I went to risk management. "I need rocks," says I. "Why would we have rocks?," the lawyers asked. "Why wouldn't you?" I replied. I explained the situation. Told them that I was sent by the site manger here. To look for Bullwinkle, I mean Rocky, I mean rocks. We'll be over later to check it out they said. Later that afternoon a lawyer showed up, looked at the situation and declared, "you need more rocks." No shit, Perry Mason. He advised me to order some and tell them that safety and risk management says that we need rocks. He then told me that they, the lawyers, didn't have rocks but had dirt at one time. More dirt? More mud. Thanks for the advise, counselor, you may go.
Order was put in for rocks. And denied. They don't have any rocks. We are in the middle of a desert and we have no rocks! Turns out the rocks are kept by our competition, Dyncorp only smooths out the rocks but you have to bring your own rocks. BYOR. We have rocks, I've seen them. They're everywhere. I engage my Kiwi spy. "Get rocks," I say. "Roger,"he says. Actually it was more like "Rogahh" and threw in a mate or two. Yesterday after lunch, rocks arrived. Didn't ask where he got them. But we had both seen a huge pile of rocks on the other side of the base. Probably just a coincidence. We went and got shovels and spread them out, eliminated our mini-me poo pond and skating rink. I was so happy.
A member of management happened by and said," see Mark, I told you that we would get you rocks, you just had to go through official channels."
I will leave to your imagination what my reply was.

Well, it is a general ORDER, not a suggestion

"General Order No.1B (GO No.1B) is enforced at KAF. Among other things, GO No.1B prohibits the possession or consumption of alcoholic beverages and/or nonprescription drugs, possession of pornography and entering sleeping quarters of the opposite gender. These are serious offenses and the consequences are severe."

This place is all about rules. For some reason, some people have a problem with that. Four in the last month to be exact. And some went for the trifecta and broke three at the same time! So one person shacked up with another person, even though that person was married. And kept her in his quarters in full view of everybody else. Dumbass. He is gone. 

Two people have been "doing it" but they are not married and were kind of doing it on the down low, except they wouldn't answer their phones during the day because they were, well "busy." Then they found alcohol on the base. Those silly Russians and their need for "wod-ka." And drove a vehicle. And put the vehicle in a ditch. And were found by the IMPs. And one was taken onto custody. So they are gone. Double dumb asses. They are now banned from doing anymore contracting work or even entering a US military base anywhere in the world. You can't make this shit up. That's ok, there are plenty of jobs back in the US. Oh, wait no there's not. Dumb asses...

A week and a wake up. Oh, wait, I'm already up.

So, I'm back at KAF. Sitting next to me on my bed are two big boxes that I have to figure out how to get to the Post Office to mail home with all the junk that I have collected over the last year. They keep changing the rules. First rule change was only Americans can use the post office. So if you are a foreign national with stuff to mail home, too bad. Now they don't take cash. Or credit cards or ATM cards. Just wampam and baseball trading cards, I guess. Actually they take the "Eagle Cash card," the military version of an ATM. Which I don't have. So drug deals are being dealt even as we speak. I am trading a ride in my new shiny red SUV (still a Toyota four runner) for use of a card. But someone at the clinic loaned me one also. Except he gave me the wrong pin number. I tested it at the PX, just in case. Thank God. Would of been just a little embarrassing at ye ole Post Office. Sir, we need you to go with these nice men with guns..."
I flew back from Dwyer on the Dash-8, which is a step up from the Dash-7. Only two engines, much nicer and quieter. Was going to be a five hour flight but one of our stops was fogged in, bummer. So I got back in a reasonable amount of time. We did have to stop for fuel, however. Usually they empty the plane, we go to the terminal, pee, get something to eat and re-board. This time we went to the "new terminal." Except there was no terminal, so we just stood out in the rain. No bathroom, nothing to eat. Standing in the rain makes you have to pee even more for some reason. So, after we boarded the lavatory became quite popular. The lone flight attendant was quite the neat freak. After every passenger went in there she dashed in with cleaning supplies. The plane was immaculate, which is hard to do in Afghanistan.
I am calling it "the dash on the Dash." Which is better than Bill had, when he tried to get here to go on R and R, when he missed his flight here because he went to the wrong terminal and had to make the dash FOR the dash. Which he lost and ended up with a cold helicopter ride instead.

The "Dsh-8"

The less cool"dash-7"

On the road again...

I have 13 days left in country and I leave for KAF tomorrow. I was really hoping to fly in the Russian
MI-8 helicopter but I am on the fixed wing aircraft. It is a one hour flight. Of course, this is Afghanistan and it will take 6 hours to get there. Leave at 11 and arrive at 4. Ugh.
Every day is "Groundhog day" here but even more so at Dwyer. Same thing everyday. But with good food. No restaurants, no meetings to attend. Nothing. I get to the clinic at 6 and leave at 10:00 at night. With eating in between. Everything is grey or sand colored. I will never order anything "earth tone," ever. Blue red, green, anything with color.. I am actually glad to go back to KAF. "Going to Rocket city, Rocket city here I come..."
Plans continue for London, with a side trip to Paris. I owe E a trip. So we have a flat and a plan and yeehah.
I interviewed for a seasonal position at Yellowstone National Park, they were on Central Time and I was here, so a little challange. I figured out that they were a half an hour ahead. (plus 12).
We'll see.
Ok, time for one more Rootbeer float...