Blonde Moments

We have a few disparate systems here that, while closely related to what I work with, aren't exactly the same.

 So, we spend a lot of time and effort trying to get the information from these other systems into ours.

Conference calls, requirements boards, database tweaking, and more.

Sometimes this is what I think that they're thinking:

I try to work out every day. 

Most weeks it turns out to be 4 or 5 times, though, because of work and laziness.

Today, I made sure I left early and got a good workout on the elliptical and I stumbled upon a weird scene in the shower trailer.

Ipod blaring Michael Buble songs, there were two women dancing around, each in their own world, totally oblivious to anything but jamming to the music.

Then I walked in.

Awkward silence ensued with the women quickly shuffling to their stuff, the only sound the music playing in the portable player.

I haven't had to work so hard to suppress a laugh in my life.

The tent is full of women now.  At least I don't have a bunkmate.  Yet.  With wall lockers put in here, my little "room" is gone.  Now, I have just enough room for the width of my shoulders between the bed and the locker.  That's it.

Their general crabbiness is infectious and I feel like I'm getting tainted with it. 

Bah, I had this all written out earlier and then the connection died so I'm having to write it again.

People are so inconsiderate.  I have a power squid (it's a power strip that has flexible plugs so adapters only take one plug) and one of the girls just dragged it over by her bunk to plug her stuff in.

You'd be proud of me, I didn't hurt her.  But, I AM doing a bit of stewing. 

Sigh.  Welcome to Bagram.  And I'm going to be stuck in here for months, if not the rest of my tour.

The guys were cleaning off their shelves today and brought me a bottle to look at.

Apparently, a few months back, they bought some butane to fill their lighters at the local Afghan market.  They had been using it for a while when one of the guys noticed that the label was loose. 

He peeled the label off to find the original label underneath.  For bug spray to kill bugs.  Like RAID. 

Yeah, cheaper DEFINITELY isn't better here.  And, if I didn't know it already, I'd look at everything in the Afghan market as suspect.

Raid.  For lighter fluid.

Sigh.

The last couple of days, because of late meetings, I've taken the bus in the  morning.  Normally, I ride in the truck with my coworkers, but I didn't want to go to work that early only to work late.

So, today I chose to take the bus again.

It left promptly, and the day was looking to be another boring one, when the driver decided to go through the route that had been detoured.  They were rebuilding the road and, in the beginning, it was probably the smoothest road we have on base.  Then he came to some huge gravel piles.  There were two choices: go to the left side and have to face oncoming traffic (which was pretty light because most of the traffic had been detoured around), or go to the right side which looked muddy and washed out.   Our brain surgeon chose right.  Or wrong, however you want to look at it.  We made it about a hundred yards in the thick mud and finally, stuck solid with the mud up to the bus step, could go no further. 

When it became clear to the driver that we weren't going anywhere, he left the bus running and hopped out, leaving us there.

There were five of us in the bus:  two indian guys who opted to stay inside, me and two other contractors.  After a stunned look at each other like, "Did he just leave us?" the contractors and I decided to hoof it the rest of the way into work.

On our way, several of the local national children came up along the fenceline brandishing slingshots.  There were a few hairy seconds there when I thought they were going to pelt us, but, they were kind enough to wait for the next victims to pass.

A lot of cars passed us by, some full, some empty.  Finally, a bus that had two soldiers in it stopped and offered us a ride.  We gladly accepted.  The two guys who were with me who I had jokingly told I'd protect (they both topped 6'5"), told me that if I weren't with them, they probably would have had to walk the whole way.  I asked them if that was why they stuck with me, jokingly, and they said, "Of course! We know which side the bread is buttered on!"

The joking and teasing made a fun adventure out of something that could have made me crabby all day.  I'm glad that, of all people, I was stuck in the mud with those two guys.