In a combat zone we are all thankful for different things. It ranges from a place to sleep, that isn't being bombarded by enemy attacks, all the way to "ugh, I can't get the BEST angle on the 40" flat screen from my bed AND still allow the CHIGO fan to dry my pedicure".
Two days ago, I was thankful for a bizarro perspective, hot food (plus all of the luxuries we have here) and the safety of all of our Soldiers (knock on wood).
The holiday has been a big project here for the last few days. Early in the week, an area in the chow hall began becoming progressively fenced off. Literally, they built some type of pre-fab 2' high fence thing, to display their "Thanksgiving Scene". Next meal came a structure resembling a tee pee and a life-sized horse out of paper mache (sp?), or foam, or something. Regardless, extra weird. After that came decorations of "Happy Thanksgiving" accompanied by Autumn-colored leaves and cheesy $.99 signage and table coverings. Outside of the doors to the chow hall, where we stage when there is a line, are bulletin boards, currently plastered with festive menu previews and postings of holiday services at the chapel.
You don't really register how odd and nonsensical all of this is, until you see it being recreated and perpetuated by the hired crew of Local National LBG's. [Editor's Note: Oh come on, Little Brown Guyz is not insensitive, they are exactly that. Plus I said "guyz", with a "z", like THEY say it to each other (J/K). I've only heard that term used by those who resemble it, so get pissy with them.] These gentlemen quite obviously have no idea what any of it means or represents...just about right in line with the American Soldiers/civilians.
The major downside to this attempt at providing us with a taste of "home" was that the extensive preparation really put a damper on the meals leading into Thursday. Breakfast is usually my staple. The same each day, basically, and I'm pleased with it. On Thursday, they really sand-bagged it. No eggs! Crappy, plastic bag, powdered chemical scrambled eggs. Not a one. I settled for two hard boiled eggs, a few strips of bacon, and a Styrofoam coffee cup of plain oatmeal with peanut butter. Yes, to reference the opening sentence, it could be much worse, but it was a step down from the norm, sorry. I'm not trying to fall out. If I'm not properly nourished, who is going to attend the meetings? Honestly...exactly.
The anticipated patronage of the chow hall on this delicious gluttony-based holiday was such that they had posted "assigned" time frames for each major unit in the area, to try and manage the flow. We came around the corner and rolled up on the line for Superman: Ride of Steel (yes, if you've been loyally following along since the beginning of the blog, I think I've successfully referenced The Ride of Steel not once, but twice. I was born with it, pretty sure, sorry Youth of 'Merica. I'm breaking Snoop D-O-Double G's rule: Da Game Is to Be Sold, Not to Be Told.) The line was out of control. All the way around the building, and almost connecting with the line from the other side.
We made it inside after about 15 minutes. Not that bad of a wait considering the line length. A unnecessary weird-Atom bomb went off in there. Immediately, on of the creepiest things I've seen, the guy who works the grill/griddle, an LBG in his own right, had "Serial Kisser" written on the top portion of his apron. Let's just say he isn't the kind of guy where you'd pause and agree "well, yeah that seems to match up". I called him on it, "Serial Kisser, huh?" and he smiled ear-to-ear, displaying probably one of the least inviting dental setups in town (think about that for a second...right).
The spread was all of the standards: turkey, some type of roast, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, rolls in the main line. Then you make the turn around the corner, toward the tables, and you hit vegetables, sweet potatoes (maybe they were main line, whatever), other stuff I always skip, and then G-D SHRIMP COCKTAIL. Say what? Yup, the little shrimps, un-thawed and topped off with some cocktail sauce. Game on. I grabbed my seat and then went back for the pay day...EGG NOG. Boomsauce. They had a guy pouring and distributing it. Probably because they only had so much, but more so because they knew they'd have a mob scene on their hands if it were fair game. It was the consistency of melted ice cream, and whisked me into delicious oblivion. I could of put all of my food back and just got down on 2 or 3 cups of that stuff.
As we ate, I surveyed all of the decorations. It was like a third world cruise ship midnight buffet. There were food and ice sculptures, of really disconnected things, like partridge-looking birds and an alligator/crocodile (it was impressive, made of pineapples I think, but not good enough for me to get a distinct species determination, let's be real here). The ice was colored, and had objects suspended in it. Not really sure. The fenced off area had been augmented with dummy-Native Americans and Pilgrims. To picture it realistically, think about what the result would be if the head Mom in the PTA hired 20 guys from outside of the Home Depot to theme-decorate her house for...say...the new episode of Glee. Good intent, but the translation just wasn't really there.
We all grubbed. Thanked the Army Force Generation (ARFORGEN) cycle that we had landed in Sharana, where things like this happen. Went back about our day. Our office "location tracker" board read "Thanks-grubbing". Again, I can't turn this stuff off, I can only attempt to focus it.
Thanks for following along,
The K
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