Man Walks Into A Bar

I was sitting eating dinner with my boss the other night and started laughing. He naturally checked to make sure I was all right and asked, “WTF?” I explained that sitting in the chow hall here in Camp Morningwood is very much like the cantina scene in Star Wars… Every. Fucking. Meal. Here’s a picture of the typical denizens:

Afghani Staff – They stand around in spiffy little white jackets and natty herringbone-check-pattern pants with beard nets while not serving food. Not bad, but usually they choose to stand right in front of the salad bar or coffee machine you need to get at. Dancing with Afghans! At the end of the mealtime, they can be spotted with three to five to-go boxes mowing through the leftover shit nobody ate but somehow never got put out on the main line.

U.S. Military – A bipolar crowd to be sure. Either we’re in a hurry to get back to the office and frustrate ourselves with more email and eat at the speed of sound, or we lounge about talking with our buddies about how awful it is that there’s only six kinds of ice cream available tonight, denying table space to us Type-5A’s who aren’t hungry but need the fuel. When not lounging, the Type-B’s are practicing for karaoke night or hitting the gym for the second time that day.

NATO Guys – Funny uniforms, funny accents, facial hair. And then there’s the other NATO Allies besides the Canadians. Generally not a bad crowd, unless we’re talking about the French, who will only eat with themselves, and generally wear spandex shirts. Eew.

Mongolians – Still providing us with kick-ass security, no doubt about it. However, woe be to you if you show up just after this swarm of human locusts picks clean every egg and bit of fruit out for consumption. It’s impressive, but scary. But, since no guys in semtex vests have come close to our gates yet, they can have my watermelon, no complaints.

Government Civilians – This is the guy in the sharp silk suit in the middle of a combat zone who had no idea what he was getting into when he agreed to come over. Guaranteed to drop something on the floor while eating. Half can be very self-important, the other half want to be your buddy, because hey, they got out as a Captain at twenty years. Their redeeming quality: the ones here are at least over here.

Contractors (Regular) – They have a house payment, a college payment, or other payments and this is a tax free gig. Plus, extradition is a bitch from the middle of Asia. Oh, did I put Network IT specialist on my resume? Must be a typo, but give me a few months because I’m sure I can pick that skill up. Note: almost everything resembling actual work is not in their PWS, but just try to tell them that two packs a day worth of smoke breaks is fucking close to eight hours.

Contractors (Armed) – Forty years ago in another insurgency fight, they were called ‘mercs.’ Today they ride around with the Silk Suit Guy in a five-ton up-armored SUV to make him feel safe. These dudes all have Special Forces type beards (unearned) and carry exotic sidearms (provided by their company), prominently displayed. Make no mistake, these guys are cool, just ask them. Like the French, they only eat with each other.

So at this point, I’m probably close to being in trouble. Also, Greedo just walked through the door. Best slip out the back, ‘cause I am not the ‘droid you’re looking for.