Holiday In Afghanistan

So here I am, sitting here in lovely Kabul.  The air is crisp and cold, there is a smell of burning… something… in the air that reminds me of shit.  It’s December, and we’re spiralling toward Christmas again in an uncontrolled fall.  How fucking glorious is it then that I get to avoid all the bullshit of shopping, wrapping, decorating, and enduring of emotionally-overcharged days where forced smiles are de rigeur?  I know, you sooooo want to be me right now.

If any of that above sounded bitter, go back and read this entire blog since December 2011, jackwagon.  It’s not.  If I had to make a prioritized list of all the holidays that fall between January 1st and December 31st, Christmas would be down in the bottom two (The other tying vote?  Guess).  Anyway, because I know the Rants Army is a curious bunch, I know you are thirsting – no, lusting – for a description of what the holidays are like here in Afghanistan.  Strap yourself down.  Here we go:

DEC 24: Get up at 5AM, scrape face and teeth, put on garanimals uniform.  Navigate to chow by braille.  Eat cold cereal to avoid heartburn from oatmeal.  Stagger to office.  Work like a slave from 6:30AM to 11PM.  Possible 15-minute excursion to the chow hall to collect lunch edibles (tuna – no heartburn) in a to-go tray, consumed at desk. Dinner somewhere between 6PM and 7PM, meeting-schedule-dependent.  Give up in frustration soon after 11PM.  Stagger to 40′ shipping container tricked out with 70’s faux wood paneling. Collapse in a coma after viewing 15 minutes of a Star Trek episode.

DEC 25: Get up at 5AM, scrape face and teeth, put on garanimals uniform.  Navigate to chow by braille.  Eat cold cereal to avoid heartburn from oatmeal.  Stagger to office.  Work like a slave from 6:30AM to 11PM.  Possible 15-minute excursion to the chow hall to collect lunch edibles (tuna – no heartburn) in a to-go tray, consumed at desk. Dinner somewhere between 6PM and 7PM, meeting-schedule-dependent, choice of turkey or tuna.  Recall time difference, note to self to call home in the morning. Give up in frustration soon after 11PM.  Stagger to 40′ shipping container tricked out with 70’s faux wood paneling. Collapse in a coma after viewing 15 minutes of a Star Trek episode.

DEC 26: Get up at 5AM, scrape face and teeth, put on garanimals uniform.  Navigate to chow by braille.  Eat cold cereal to avoid heartburn from oatmeal.  Stagger to office.  Work like a slave from 6:30AM to 11PM.  Possible 15-minute excursion to the chow hall to collect lunch edibles (tuna – no heartburn) in a to-go tray, consumed at desk. Dinner somewhere between 6PM and 7PM, meeting-schedule-dependent.  Forget to call home completely. Give up in frustration soon after 11PM.  Stagger to 40′ shipping container tricked out with 70’s faux wood paneling. Collapse in a coma after viewing 15 minutes of a Star Trek episode.

Again, I know you are all envious.  Not everyone can live this dream, and it looks a lot like Groundhog Day.  Merry fucking Christmas, motherfuckers.  The death-rattle of every year is music to my ringing ears.