The cd that I have waited so long for has finally arrived. I have tons of them, and then I quit... HA HA HA HA HA.
Anybody want one? I need a cheap way of getting them to you.
Ten bucks for each cd, plus three or four bucks for postage.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
exit stage left
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you
I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
Yeah you do and I was made for you
You see the smile that's on my mouth
Is hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what I've been through but you do
And I was made for you...
-The Story by Brandi Carlile
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you
I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
Yeah you do and I was made for you
You see the smile that's on my mouth
Is hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what I've been through but you do
And I was made for you...
-The Story by Brandi Carlile
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
hash is good
It was a just another puddy yellow museum that you might find in any city in the world. Except this one was filled with the entire history of Bahrain. Everything from the discovery of oil, to the birth and education of the children, to the written language, to the clothes, to the pearl divers, to the ancient civilizations that lived here for centuries before I came here. The rest of the Arabian world seems to have buried their dead on this island feeling that it was the source of all life and the gateway to the eternal heaven. Of course, these are the same people that feel a woman should wear all black from head to toe and who built a palace for Micheal Jackson.
It was a lovely museum. Very hands on. I mean that - you can really touch, pick up and fondle all of the exhibits. You could even pick up and handle the rare Egyptian artifacts which are on loan from the graves of other rich dead people in the region. You have to enter and leave the exhibit through a metal detector, but once inside, you could fondle to your heart's content. It was worth the 30 bucks we spent to get in there.
Todd and I made our way back to the base and readied ourselves for another evening of shows. I would be headlining and he, opening. At show time there was already a crowd and there were more out there than the night before. Word had spread and those that came out were looking for a good time. I would like to think that I was the draw or perhaps the Marines and Sailors of NSA Bahrain were enormous huge comedy fans, but in all reality, they were really there to see Tey. And when I say, Tey, I mean the Tey. The one and only. For all of you that don't know recognize the name all you need to know is that Madam Tey is a very sexy, slender Asian who is fond of tight fitting clothes. I think she might have brought out some of the crowd, but only a small fraction. I'm sure most lustful happy 18 year old Marines fresh off the boat and filled with booze would rather see a middle aged, over weight comic than an Asian tart in hot pants.
The show went fine for us, the crowd enjoyed the revamped jokes and we walked away batting a thousand for the week. Not bad for shows done in hundred degree temps. Sadly, Tey didn't fare as well. Her sound was off, her clothes, sadly, never came off and she completely misunderstood her surroundings. In an attempt to get the crowd energized, she started a little "Who's better? The Marines or the Navy?" banter and it didn't go well. There was almost a small war over some of the heated banter between the two factions of men. As an entertainer, it isn't always a good idea to rile up the extremely drunk audience into a blood lusting fervor if you want them to sing along to your rendition of "Proud to be an American." I doubt that the mothers and fathers back home would like to see their babies dying in a bar brawl on CNN.
Todd didn't disappear this time and we eventually ended the night on the base. We went to bed a bit drunk, but sated. The next day was our trip to Djibouti and from what everyone was telling us, it was going to be murderously hot and uncomfortable. This would be our last night in a bed and with running water so we needed to soak it up.
The itinerary said 5 p.m. The handler at the base said he would pick us up at 3 p.m. for a ride to the airport. Our tickets said 5 p.m. We got to the airport at 3:45 p.m., our plane left at 3 p.m. It was Friday, the holiest day in the Middle East. Kinda like our Sunday. Nothing is open. We don't speak one word of the language. I have tattoos. Todd is...Well...Todd. No one wanted to, or could, help us.
I wanted to go so badly I was willing to dish out $2000.00 of my own money for me and Todd to get to the Djibouti on time. It would involve us having to flying all over hell and back just to get in to Djibouti, but I was willing to do it. Sadly there was just no way for us to get there. Djibouti is the fourth poorest country in the world and it is under constant fire from rival factions, so there is only a finite number of flights in and out of the country, there was no way we could get in there.
I was crushed. But my pain was just beginning.
The bookers could have cared less about our situation and at the time of this posting, I still have not heard from them. Not an email. Not a phone call. I should have known. These are the same fuck ups that screwed me out of Korea last October and didn't care when I had all my problems in Japan. They just don't give a shit. For them, comedy is a cash grab and if they have to fuck over people and do it under the guise of entertaining our troops, they'll do it. Soulless fucks.
Todd and I were stuck. We went back to the base and begged for help. They let us have our old room back and we just crawled into our beds, dejected and lost. I was ready to go home.
It was determined that we would fly back to Amsterdam and catch our original flights home. Hmmmmmmmm. Two days in Amsterdam.....If I have too. It's my gold watch.
At least this time I wasn't entering hash town with a huge case of jetlag. We arrived at 7 a.m. and like the two other times before, nothing was open. Nada. We had met some fellow Americans on the train from the airport who had four hours to kill and who wanted to get really high in that time, so we joined forces and walked the empty streets together, looking for drugs.
Getting high in Amsterdam. It's why you come here. Then you go visit the Van Gogh museum or the Anne Frank house and then you try to find your way back to the train station. All of these things are fun to do when you're high.
It was a warm morning. Much cooler than Bahrain, but still warm enough that you wouldn't need a coat. There was no one was out on the streets and nothing seemed to be open but we were able to find the one coffee house that was open early - For desperate stoners and Americans on short lay-overs. One lone hash happy coffeehouse...Hash is good.
There are photos. They're blurry.
The next two days were a mild blur. There were hookers under glass, free hash smoke, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Vemeer, more hookers, more hash, a wearily done comedy show for a Dutch audience, and finally, home. We spent the last night in the airport just waiting for the flights home in the morning. Todd left at 7 a.m. and there was no pleasant goodbye. Todd and I had grown apart pretty quickly and we never seemed to get back on each other's good side. He seemed just as annoyed with me as I was with him and the only thing we could muster was a pleasant "See you later. It was fun." It wasn't.
My flight home was horrible. I was stuck between two people that have a phobia about having their elbows touched. 9 hours of awkward, forced smiles and uncomfortable, unnatural airline induced yoga. I was never more happy to see a plane I was on fall from the sky. I'm ready to begin my retirement from comedy.
I flew back into the present with just three and a half days before I am supposed to leave for Canada on the bike. I'm home safely. Thanks for the concerned emails. I did send some forty postcards out from Amsterdam at a total cost of more than two nights in a hotel in Amsterdam. I lost a lot of addresses, so if you sent your address and you don't get a postcard, forgive me.
I'm done now.
It was a lovely museum. Very hands on. I mean that - you can really touch, pick up and fondle all of the exhibits. You could even pick up and handle the rare Egyptian artifacts which are on loan from the graves of other rich dead people in the region. You have to enter and leave the exhibit through a metal detector, but once inside, you could fondle to your heart's content. It was worth the 30 bucks we spent to get in there.
Todd and I made our way back to the base and readied ourselves for another evening of shows. I would be headlining and he, opening. At show time there was already a crowd and there were more out there than the night before. Word had spread and those that came out were looking for a good time. I would like to think that I was the draw or perhaps the Marines and Sailors of NSA Bahrain were enormous huge comedy fans, but in all reality, they were really there to see Tey. And when I say, Tey, I mean the Tey. The one and only. For all of you that don't know recognize the name all you need to know is that Madam Tey is a very sexy, slender Asian who is fond of tight fitting clothes. I think she might have brought out some of the crowd, but only a small fraction. I'm sure most lustful happy 18 year old Marines fresh off the boat and filled with booze would rather see a middle aged, over weight comic than an Asian tart in hot pants.
The show went fine for us, the crowd enjoyed the revamped jokes and we walked away batting a thousand for the week. Not bad for shows done in hundred degree temps. Sadly, Tey didn't fare as well. Her sound was off, her clothes, sadly, never came off and she completely misunderstood her surroundings. In an attempt to get the crowd energized, she started a little "Who's better? The Marines or the Navy?" banter and it didn't go well. There was almost a small war over some of the heated banter between the two factions of men. As an entertainer, it isn't always a good idea to rile up the extremely drunk audience into a blood lusting fervor if you want them to sing along to your rendition of "Proud to be an American." I doubt that the mothers and fathers back home would like to see their babies dying in a bar brawl on CNN.
Todd didn't disappear this time and we eventually ended the night on the base. We went to bed a bit drunk, but sated. The next day was our trip to Djibouti and from what everyone was telling us, it was going to be murderously hot and uncomfortable. This would be our last night in a bed and with running water so we needed to soak it up.
The itinerary said 5 p.m. The handler at the base said he would pick us up at 3 p.m. for a ride to the airport. Our tickets said 5 p.m. We got to the airport at 3:45 p.m., our plane left at 3 p.m. It was Friday, the holiest day in the Middle East. Kinda like our Sunday. Nothing is open. We don't speak one word of the language. I have tattoos. Todd is...Well...Todd. No one wanted to, or could, help us.
I wanted to go so badly I was willing to dish out $2000.00 of my own money for me and Todd to get to the Djibouti on time. It would involve us having to flying all over hell and back just to get in to Djibouti, but I was willing to do it. Sadly there was just no way for us to get there. Djibouti is the fourth poorest country in the world and it is under constant fire from rival factions, so there is only a finite number of flights in and out of the country, there was no way we could get in there.
I was crushed. But my pain was just beginning.
The bookers could have cared less about our situation and at the time of this posting, I still have not heard from them. Not an email. Not a phone call. I should have known. These are the same fuck ups that screwed me out of Korea last October and didn't care when I had all my problems in Japan. They just don't give a shit. For them, comedy is a cash grab and if they have to fuck over people and do it under the guise of entertaining our troops, they'll do it. Soulless fucks.
Todd and I were stuck. We went back to the base and begged for help. They let us have our old room back and we just crawled into our beds, dejected and lost. I was ready to go home.
It was determined that we would fly back to Amsterdam and catch our original flights home. Hmmmmmmmm. Two days in Amsterdam.....If I have too. It's my gold watch.
At least this time I wasn't entering hash town with a huge case of jetlag. We arrived at 7 a.m. and like the two other times before, nothing was open. Nada. We had met some fellow Americans on the train from the airport who had four hours to kill and who wanted to get really high in that time, so we joined forces and walked the empty streets together, looking for drugs.
Getting high in Amsterdam. It's why you come here. Then you go visit the Van Gogh museum or the Anne Frank house and then you try to find your way back to the train station. All of these things are fun to do when you're high.
It was a warm morning. Much cooler than Bahrain, but still warm enough that you wouldn't need a coat. There was no one was out on the streets and nothing seemed to be open but we were able to find the one coffee house that was open early - For desperate stoners and Americans on short lay-overs. One lone hash happy coffeehouse...Hash is good.
There are photos. They're blurry.
The next two days were a mild blur. There were hookers under glass, free hash smoke, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Vemeer, more hookers, more hash, a wearily done comedy show for a Dutch audience, and finally, home. We spent the last night in the airport just waiting for the flights home in the morning. Todd left at 7 a.m. and there was no pleasant goodbye. Todd and I had grown apart pretty quickly and we never seemed to get back on each other's good side. He seemed just as annoyed with me as I was with him and the only thing we could muster was a pleasant "See you later. It was fun." It wasn't.
My flight home was horrible. I was stuck between two people that have a phobia about having their elbows touched. 9 hours of awkward, forced smiles and uncomfortable, unnatural airline induced yoga. I was never more happy to see a plane I was on fall from the sky. I'm ready to begin my retirement from comedy.
I flew back into the present with just three and a half days before I am supposed to leave for Canada on the bike. I'm home safely. Thanks for the concerned emails. I did send some forty postcards out from Amsterdam at a total cost of more than two nights in a hotel in Amsterdam. I lost a lot of addresses, so if you sent your address and you don't get a postcard, forgive me.
I'm done now.
Monday, May 21, 2007
invasion of somewhere
Episode something...
I am in Amsterdam surrounded by hookers, hash and Van Gogh. I go home tomorrow, give me some time to get my head on straight.
I am in Amsterdam surrounded by hookers, hash and Van Gogh. I go home tomorrow, give me some time to get my head on straight.
Friday, May 18, 2007
invasion of bahrain
Episode #4
Is it legal to kill someone in the Middle East?
Flash forward to the present. I am sitting in Bahrain a day after my flight left without me. Yemen Airlines or the travel agent that booked the tickets, fucked up and now Todd and I sit without a country, a visa, or a way home. I'm assuming that the tour is over as there is no real way to get into Djibouti before the scheduled shows. It would take a dune buggy, an unheard of visa from the Saudi Government which is the most hardline Muslim country in the world, a boat, a guide, and 30 hours. None of which I have.
The contact here in Bahrain has their hands tied and the bookers back in America, LONE WOLF ENTERTAINMENT, is missing in action. Our American contacts Jeff and Olivia are both out of the country and so we sit without any idea of what to do.
So no Africa... No Nairobi....No shows....It's just time to go home.
More soon...
Is it legal to kill someone in the Middle East?
Flash forward to the present. I am sitting in Bahrain a day after my flight left without me. Yemen Airlines or the travel agent that booked the tickets, fucked up and now Todd and I sit without a country, a visa, or a way home. I'm assuming that the tour is over as there is no real way to get into Djibouti before the scheduled shows. It would take a dune buggy, an unheard of visa from the Saudi Government which is the most hardline Muslim country in the world, a boat, a guide, and 30 hours. None of which I have.
The contact here in Bahrain has their hands tied and the bookers back in America, LONE WOLF ENTERTAINMENT, is missing in action. Our American contacts Jeff and Olivia are both out of the country and so we sit without any idea of what to do.
So no Africa... No Nairobi....No shows....It's just time to go home.
More soon...
Thursday, May 17, 2007
invasion of bahrain
Episode #3
Hot Shit!
Sleep is a gift, ask anyone who doesn't get much of it and they'll tell you. I'm getting to sleep three to four hours at a time and with each little nap(?) I just get more exhausted. When I'm not sleeping, I'm shitting. I know I haven't eaten enough food to justify this insanity and for those of you who are on my shit TEXT list, be happy that I don't have the phone with me. It's just madness. For those of you that think it's the water, you're half right. However, I am using nothing but bottled water for everything and I rinse with Listerine every other minute. Todd is just sucking down the fluids with local ice cubes and statistically speaking - he's shitting twice as much as I am.
The sun comes up here at 4 a.m. and it isn't the type of sunrise where it sort of peeks out at you and then slowly proceeds to increases its intensity with each passing second, oh no. Here in Bahrain it just come straight up and starts cookin'. It was 100 degrees at 4 a.m. when I took my morning stroll. I accidentally walked 5 miles because I wasn't paying attention. I ran into heavy traffic from all of the marines and naval personnel that were doing their morning P.T. and the looks they gave me with my tattoos and portly little body were magical.
After the run, I lucked out and walked into the one building that houses the food and the Internet. Breakfast was being served a la carte and it was of a quality just above a Denney's meal. Nothing to cry about, but nothing to be proud of either. It didn't matter, food is food and for some particular reason I am famished. It must be from all of that laborious pooping. The Internet is slow, but at least they have it. Thank you to all of you who sent an email, sorry I can't respond to them all.
All the buildings on the base are puddy yellow much like the rest of Bahrain. There are a few transplanted trees scattered here and there to provide some modest shade and to break up the monotony of the puddy. Every so many yards there is a soldier wearing puddy yellow body armor from head to toe, and carrying a very large weapon. He, or she, looks like she has had enough of the heat and if killing you would mean a ticket home then so be it. The rest of the troops and sailors are wearing shorts and tee shirts, the very things we were told we couldn't wear here. As it turns out, 80 percent of what I brought to wear here is too warm for this climate. If they ever make clothes out of tissue paper, this would be the ideal place to wear them. It's just hot and with everything tinted puddy yellow, the sun's rays just reflect off of everything; the walls, the ground, and they burn you everywhere. If you weren't so moist from all the sweating you would probably burst into flames.
The first day on the base we didn't get much accomplished other than to get the low-down on what we could and couldn't do and what we should expect from the show. The warnings they gave us about touring Bahrain have made it almost impossible to get up the courage to leave the base and see any of it. Apparently danger lurks everywhere, even though there has never ever been an incident in this country. Not ever.
We slept, we ate, we shat. We slept some more. Then it was noon. Exciting no?
The sun fell out of the sky like a pat of butter melting on a hot skillet. Suddenly it was just gone. Sadly, the heat didn't leave with it.
The show was going to be held outside which is always a challenge, but a challenge worth doing when you remember why you're here. The crowd was large, well behaved and more appreciative than we expected, even though neither one of us was really awake for the show.
After our show, a Thai rock and roll band took the stage and sang covers of every song you can think of from country to punk and they tore the place up. Of course, it helps to have a lead singer that is a sexy looking girl wearing Daisy Duke cut offs and a half shirt. Marines tend to go for that sort of thing in their entertainment. They were fresh off the boat and really, really happy to see that Thai lady. She could have given a sermon on AIDS and they would have been happy and horny.
The Marines that didn't fawn over Thai girl made their way over to us and were full of questions, and booze. I wasn't ten minutes into answering questions about my tattoos before my first drink was bought for me. I'm still half-asleep and suffering from the shits, booze can only make matters worse. But I'm a trooper. That's why I'm here, to bring joy. Let my boozing be an indication of my dedication to service.
It was decided that all of the Marines and myself should get a tattoo. Muslims frown upon tattoos so the only place to get one was on the base from a sailor who has a home made gun. Never the best solution, but a solution it was and the calls were made. Thankfully, the Marines started fighting with themselves before any ink could be spilled and no one walked away with anything poorly thought out. It was decided that the next night would be more fitting. I had had enough and I stumbled back to my puddy yellow room to shit and pass out. I left Todd behind so he could drool over the Thai singer. He seemed to be in love. I wonder if there is a place in this crazy world for those two?
I woke up at 5 and again I was out running amid the crowd. These kids are in much better shape than I'm in and it's a sad sight to see me out there bearing the only fat on the whole base. I lost ten pounds in sweat alone before I was able to stumble back to my room for a shower. When I got there, I noticed that Todd's bed was empty and that he hadn't come back to the room last night. A bad sign. We were told to stick together and to not venture out without someone knowing where we are at all times. Todd was plastered and tired, so he probably forgot. What perils lay ahead?
I went out looking for him every where I could think he might be. That is to say, I went to the jail and the hospital, but he wasn't there. It was still hours before anything on base would be open so I could call someone to inquire about Todd's whereabouts. What if he went off base after a hooker? What if he took that personality out on the town without anyone there to watch his back? Shit. What if Todd was going to be the center of an international incident? There are already three G.I.'s missing this week, now Todd.
It was 9:30 before he just reappeared out of nowhere. Hung over, and shocked that he had caused such a panic. By the time he reappeared, there had been a small group of people anxiously looking everywhere for him so they could cover their asses should something happen to him. Legally, Todd is their responsibility. The base was frantic in their efforts to find the missing comic and for him to reappear so casually and hung over wasn't the greatest moment in comic-military relations.
Troubles aside, and after another shit and a nap, I was beyond desperate to get out and see Bahrain. This was really the only full day we had to get out and tour around and I didn't want to miss out. Friday is a religious holiday and everything would be closed, so it's now or never to see a real mosque and take in the sights. Giddy doesn't begin to describe it.
I was told that I had to cover my body so my tattoos wouldn't show. I was also told I couldn't wear my KC hat or my Kansas tee shirt as both would attract too much attention and the locals would be offended by them. I was willing to do anything, even suffer in miserable heat in a long sleeve shirt, and defy my Jayhawk love, just to see this country. I lost another ten pounds from the experience.
Todd, hung over and ashamed, came along for the ride.
We took a cab to the biggest mosque in Bahrain. The trip to the world beyond the base walls was incredible. There is so much beauty to be found in a world of concrete and sand. That must explain Micheal Jackson's desire to live here for a year(before he was kicked out). It's very beautiful in it's simplicity.
Even though the entire exterior is puddy yellow stone, the Mosque's interior is beautiful marble and silk. The interior dome is made up of glass and an enormous chandelier which is covered with hundreds of candles spreading light everywhere. The place spoke of heavenly beauty and passion and you can see where people can get so worked up about a religion. Inside there were only a few people praying, but someone in the highest tower was praying out loud on huge speakers so the whole town could hear it. You could not escape the sound. Muslims pray five times a day and during that time, NOTHING happens. Nothing. They are very serious about their prayers. I felt like I was pissing people off by standing there taking photos.
Our cabbie informed us that there is no poverty, or drunks, or homeless people in Bahrain. The more I looked around, the more I could see that he was right. Everyone here has money, everyone. Owning a Mercedes here is the equivalent of owning a Mazda in America. That must be why you see so many Arabs in them when they come to America. They really must think we're cheap driving around in Hondas. Money is everywhere here. It's a very modern city with antiquated habits.
We didn't have much time to look around after we toured the Mosque so Todd and I went to the Bahrain National Museum, which was the closest thing to us and something that would certainly stay open past 1, the time that everything closes in the Middle East. Normally a small market or taking in some local flavor would be nice to see, but everyone spoke so highly about this Museum we just had to go...
[no more until I arrive in Amsterdam in three days]
Hot Shit!
Sleep is a gift, ask anyone who doesn't get much of it and they'll tell you. I'm getting to sleep three to four hours at a time and with each little nap(?) I just get more exhausted. When I'm not sleeping, I'm shitting. I know I haven't eaten enough food to justify this insanity and for those of you who are on my shit TEXT list, be happy that I don't have the phone with me. It's just madness. For those of you that think it's the water, you're half right. However, I am using nothing but bottled water for everything and I rinse with Listerine every other minute. Todd is just sucking down the fluids with local ice cubes and statistically speaking - he's shitting twice as much as I am.
The sun comes up here at 4 a.m. and it isn't the type of sunrise where it sort of peeks out at you and then slowly proceeds to increases its intensity with each passing second, oh no. Here in Bahrain it just come straight up and starts cookin'. It was 100 degrees at 4 a.m. when I took my morning stroll. I accidentally walked 5 miles because I wasn't paying attention. I ran into heavy traffic from all of the marines and naval personnel that were doing their morning P.T. and the looks they gave me with my tattoos and portly little body were magical.
After the run, I lucked out and walked into the one building that houses the food and the Internet. Breakfast was being served a la carte and it was of a quality just above a Denney's meal. Nothing to cry about, but nothing to be proud of either. It didn't matter, food is food and for some particular reason I am famished. It must be from all of that laborious pooping. The Internet is slow, but at least they have it. Thank you to all of you who sent an email, sorry I can't respond to them all.
All the buildings on the base are puddy yellow much like the rest of Bahrain. There are a few transplanted trees scattered here and there to provide some modest shade and to break up the monotony of the puddy. Every so many yards there is a soldier wearing puddy yellow body armor from head to toe, and carrying a very large weapon. He, or she, looks like she has had enough of the heat and if killing you would mean a ticket home then so be it. The rest of the troops and sailors are wearing shorts and tee shirts, the very things we were told we couldn't wear here. As it turns out, 80 percent of what I brought to wear here is too warm for this climate. If they ever make clothes out of tissue paper, this would be the ideal place to wear them. It's just hot and with everything tinted puddy yellow, the sun's rays just reflect off of everything; the walls, the ground, and they burn you everywhere. If you weren't so moist from all the sweating you would probably burst into flames.
The first day on the base we didn't get much accomplished other than to get the low-down on what we could and couldn't do and what we should expect from the show. The warnings they gave us about touring Bahrain have made it almost impossible to get up the courage to leave the base and see any of it. Apparently danger lurks everywhere, even though there has never ever been an incident in this country. Not ever.
We slept, we ate, we shat. We slept some more. Then it was noon. Exciting no?
The sun fell out of the sky like a pat of butter melting on a hot skillet. Suddenly it was just gone. Sadly, the heat didn't leave with it.
The show was going to be held outside which is always a challenge, but a challenge worth doing when you remember why you're here. The crowd was large, well behaved and more appreciative than we expected, even though neither one of us was really awake for the show.
After our show, a Thai rock and roll band took the stage and sang covers of every song you can think of from country to punk and they tore the place up. Of course, it helps to have a lead singer that is a sexy looking girl wearing Daisy Duke cut offs and a half shirt. Marines tend to go for that sort of thing in their entertainment. They were fresh off the boat and really, really happy to see that Thai lady. She could have given a sermon on AIDS and they would have been happy and horny.
The Marines that didn't fawn over Thai girl made their way over to us and were full of questions, and booze. I wasn't ten minutes into answering questions about my tattoos before my first drink was bought for me. I'm still half-asleep and suffering from the shits, booze can only make matters worse. But I'm a trooper. That's why I'm here, to bring joy. Let my boozing be an indication of my dedication to service.
It was decided that all of the Marines and myself should get a tattoo. Muslims frown upon tattoos so the only place to get one was on the base from a sailor who has a home made gun. Never the best solution, but a solution it was and the calls were made. Thankfully, the Marines started fighting with themselves before any ink could be spilled and no one walked away with anything poorly thought out. It was decided that the next night would be more fitting. I had had enough and I stumbled back to my puddy yellow room to shit and pass out. I left Todd behind so he could drool over the Thai singer. He seemed to be in love. I wonder if there is a place in this crazy world for those two?
I woke up at 5 and again I was out running amid the crowd. These kids are in much better shape than I'm in and it's a sad sight to see me out there bearing the only fat on the whole base. I lost ten pounds in sweat alone before I was able to stumble back to my room for a shower. When I got there, I noticed that Todd's bed was empty and that he hadn't come back to the room last night. A bad sign. We were told to stick together and to not venture out without someone knowing where we are at all times. Todd was plastered and tired, so he probably forgot. What perils lay ahead?
I went out looking for him every where I could think he might be. That is to say, I went to the jail and the hospital, but he wasn't there. It was still hours before anything on base would be open so I could call someone to inquire about Todd's whereabouts. What if he went off base after a hooker? What if he took that personality out on the town without anyone there to watch his back? Shit. What if Todd was going to be the center of an international incident? There are already three G.I.'s missing this week, now Todd.
It was 9:30 before he just reappeared out of nowhere. Hung over, and shocked that he had caused such a panic. By the time he reappeared, there had been a small group of people anxiously looking everywhere for him so they could cover their asses should something happen to him. Legally, Todd is their responsibility. The base was frantic in their efforts to find the missing comic and for him to reappear so casually and hung over wasn't the greatest moment in comic-military relations.
Troubles aside, and after another shit and a nap, I was beyond desperate to get out and see Bahrain. This was really the only full day we had to get out and tour around and I didn't want to miss out. Friday is a religious holiday and everything would be closed, so it's now or never to see a real mosque and take in the sights. Giddy doesn't begin to describe it.
I was told that I had to cover my body so my tattoos wouldn't show. I was also told I couldn't wear my KC hat or my Kansas tee shirt as both would attract too much attention and the locals would be offended by them. I was willing to do anything, even suffer in miserable heat in a long sleeve shirt, and defy my Jayhawk love, just to see this country. I lost another ten pounds from the experience.
Todd, hung over and ashamed, came along for the ride.
We took a cab to the biggest mosque in Bahrain. The trip to the world beyond the base walls was incredible. There is so much beauty to be found in a world of concrete and sand. That must explain Micheal Jackson's desire to live here for a year(before he was kicked out). It's very beautiful in it's simplicity.
Even though the entire exterior is puddy yellow stone, the Mosque's interior is beautiful marble and silk. The interior dome is made up of glass and an enormous chandelier which is covered with hundreds of candles spreading light everywhere. The place spoke of heavenly beauty and passion and you can see where people can get so worked up about a religion. Inside there were only a few people praying, but someone in the highest tower was praying out loud on huge speakers so the whole town could hear it. You could not escape the sound. Muslims pray five times a day and during that time, NOTHING happens. Nothing. They are very serious about their prayers. I felt like I was pissing people off by standing there taking photos.
Our cabbie informed us that there is no poverty, or drunks, or homeless people in Bahrain. The more I looked around, the more I could see that he was right. Everyone here has money, everyone. Owning a Mercedes here is the equivalent of owning a Mazda in America. That must be why you see so many Arabs in them when they come to America. They really must think we're cheap driving around in Hondas. Money is everywhere here. It's a very modern city with antiquated habits.
We didn't have much time to look around after we toured the Mosque so Todd and I went to the Bahrain National Museum, which was the closest thing to us and something that would certainly stay open past 1, the time that everything closes in the Middle East. Normally a small market or taking in some local flavor would be nice to see, but everyone spoke so highly about this Museum we just had to go...
[no more until I arrive in Amsterdam in three days]
invasion of bahrain
Episode #2
Bahrain drops.
The Muslim world views eating pork as one of the single greatest sin by man on this planet. Most of the people that are flying to Bahrain and, indeed, most of the people of Bahrain, are Muslim. The second greatest sin is marking or altering the body in any way. Tattoos are really bad. Tattoos are a great sin and it speaks of the evilness of the person that bears them. I am batting a thousand with my fellow passengers. I must look like hell on toast.
I pulled the only food I had with me to eat out of my bag - a 24 hour old ham and cheese sandwich. I was so tired from the flight that I didn't even think about the great insult it would be to eat it in front of my fellow passengers. The ham ripped apart practically in slow motion as I took big gnarly sinful bites. The corners of my mouth oozed out spicy mustard which probably looked like sin's foulness pouring out of me. The other passengers wouldn't have noticed me had I just not opened the bag of extra crispy potato chips. The loud CRUNCH of the chips seemed to echo through the terminal and drew every curious onlookers. Eventually everyone at the gate was staring at me. Even the other Americans that were concerned that my foulness might ruin things for them.
By the time I realized that I had completely offended everyone it was too late. I was indeed the living embodiment of all that they had been taught about Americans and our sinful ways. I must have been a sight to see. There is just something about me in foreign airports that demands attention. However, the crowd that gathered around me didn't seem interested in getting my autograph this time.
Thankfully Todd Justice arrived and released some of the tension. It was getting hard to eat the chips quietly and I felt guilty about every bite I was taking. Todd and I have been friends for many years and he will be the other half of this comedy tour. He's a big, bald, and an unabashedly loud Texan. He was just enough of a character to get the eyes off of my catalog of debauchery long enough so I could finish my meal.
He's a good man - direct, very tall. Funny. It's really nice to see him and to know that he'll be on this trip with me. I think touring with people you know is a lot more entertaining. He walks up to where I am sitting at the gate and in his own Todd way, he starts to unload a very colorful tale of his trip over the pond. Apparently he was stuck in a small seat next to a man with a powerful cough from what he called, "Peruvian Gator Flu," and a screaming baby, so he wasn't able to rest at all. I didn't have the heart to tell him about my first class pampering, but I'm a comic and incredibly impish, so I dug down deep and told him anyway. He was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. That quiet that says, "oh...Well goodie for you."
We got on the plane and sadly walked past first class into steerage. I was almost to the rear of the plane before I found my seat. I'm not much of a flyer and planes make me nervous on several levels. For one, I don't like the stagnant feeling in the air. Especially the air in the back of the plane away from the open door. I like air flow. I don't even like my windows closed when I drive or if I'm at home in -20 below temps. I like air flow. There were no vents on this plane. None. I hated it.
The only solace I received was when I looked back and saw Todd sitting further back. Just as he took his seat, the rear door of the plane opened and a woman in a coma, suffering from a deadly disease came in on a stretcher. They laid her out across several rows of seats and zip-tied her in...right next to Todd's face. To his left would be the only woman on the plane with a screaming baby. His face said it all.
I still couldn't sleep. 8 hours of flying and I watched every movie I could. We flew into night and Europe turned into the Black sea, then the eerie glow of Turkery, Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan. Their deserts were aglow with fires from refineries and random cities below us. It was beautiful even though you know that below are men and women dying and those flames are part of the reason.
We landed in Abu Dhabi for a brief stopover and most of the plane, including the ill woman, departed. The second they opened the rear door, a wave of heat that felt like lava pouring over me ran into me and I immediately began to pour sweat. I had been in my sweats now for close to 24 hours and I needed to change. However, the laws stated that we couldn't get off the airplane and by the look of the armed guards surrounding the plane on the tarmac, I could see that I was going to have to change in a one foot by one foot room of the toilet.
I put on some decent clothes but it didn't help. It was still seven million degrees on the plane. And there were no little vents to keep us cool. None. As in - They didn't build the plane with the little nubby vents that you twist for relief. It was stifling.
Todd was talking to some Americans in the aisle near his seat and when I got closer he introduced me to them. It was Geoff Bodine - NASCAR champion. He was out here on a tour just like us and he was just the nicest guy. He made you feel good and I guess that's why he's here, it's not like he's going to tell jokes or sing songs for the troops, he's a race car driver!
The last flight of the trip was less than thirty minutes. When we got off the plane, out of customs and out into the night air and it was over 100 degrees with perfect humidity. It was death. I was too tired to care or I would have collapsed and died.
We drove to the base through Bahrain. The city is a bit ragged and beautiful all at the same time. It looks like every Middle Eastern city that you've seen on TV and in the movies - Puddy yellow buildings, made of concrete and covered with matching yellow sand. Lots of fancy cars and brown people wearing white. I wish my first impression could have been better but I was in a coma and barely breathing.
For some reason we decided that we needed to eat something and so, for reasons I can't explain, I ate A&W burgers. I can't remember what it tasted like, but I ate it.
I went to bed - - at 2 a.m. Over 35 hours after I woke up.
The next day started for me before I woke up. Shitting was to become my new favorite past time.
Bahrain drops.
The Muslim world views eating pork as one of the single greatest sin by man on this planet. Most of the people that are flying to Bahrain and, indeed, most of the people of Bahrain, are Muslim. The second greatest sin is marking or altering the body in any way. Tattoos are really bad. Tattoos are a great sin and it speaks of the evilness of the person that bears them. I am batting a thousand with my fellow passengers. I must look like hell on toast.
I pulled the only food I had with me to eat out of my bag - a 24 hour old ham and cheese sandwich. I was so tired from the flight that I didn't even think about the great insult it would be to eat it in front of my fellow passengers. The ham ripped apart practically in slow motion as I took big gnarly sinful bites. The corners of my mouth oozed out spicy mustard which probably looked like sin's foulness pouring out of me. The other passengers wouldn't have noticed me had I just not opened the bag of extra crispy potato chips. The loud CRUNCH of the chips seemed to echo through the terminal and drew every curious onlookers. Eventually everyone at the gate was staring at me. Even the other Americans that were concerned that my foulness might ruin things for them.
By the time I realized that I had completely offended everyone it was too late. I was indeed the living embodiment of all that they had been taught about Americans and our sinful ways. I must have been a sight to see. There is just something about me in foreign airports that demands attention. However, the crowd that gathered around me didn't seem interested in getting my autograph this time.
Thankfully Todd Justice arrived and released some of the tension. It was getting hard to eat the chips quietly and I felt guilty about every bite I was taking. Todd and I have been friends for many years and he will be the other half of this comedy tour. He's a big, bald, and an unabashedly loud Texan. He was just enough of a character to get the eyes off of my catalog of debauchery long enough so I could finish my meal.
He's a good man - direct, very tall. Funny. It's really nice to see him and to know that he'll be on this trip with me. I think touring with people you know is a lot more entertaining. He walks up to where I am sitting at the gate and in his own Todd way, he starts to unload a very colorful tale of his trip over the pond. Apparently he was stuck in a small seat next to a man with a powerful cough from what he called, "Peruvian Gator Flu," and a screaming baby, so he wasn't able to rest at all. I didn't have the heart to tell him about my first class pampering, but I'm a comic and incredibly impish, so I dug down deep and told him anyway. He was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. That quiet that says, "oh...Well goodie for you."
We got on the plane and sadly walked past first class into steerage. I was almost to the rear of the plane before I found my seat. I'm not much of a flyer and planes make me nervous on several levels. For one, I don't like the stagnant feeling in the air. Especially the air in the back of the plane away from the open door. I like air flow. I don't even like my windows closed when I drive or if I'm at home in -20 below temps. I like air flow. There were no vents on this plane. None. I hated it.
The only solace I received was when I looked back and saw Todd sitting further back. Just as he took his seat, the rear door of the plane opened and a woman in a coma, suffering from a deadly disease came in on a stretcher. They laid her out across several rows of seats and zip-tied her in...right next to Todd's face. To his left would be the only woman on the plane with a screaming baby. His face said it all.
I still couldn't sleep. 8 hours of flying and I watched every movie I could. We flew into night and Europe turned into the Black sea, then the eerie glow of Turkery, Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan. Their deserts were aglow with fires from refineries and random cities below us. It was beautiful even though you know that below are men and women dying and those flames are part of the reason.
We landed in Abu Dhabi for a brief stopover and most of the plane, including the ill woman, departed. The second they opened the rear door, a wave of heat that felt like lava pouring over me ran into me and I immediately began to pour sweat. I had been in my sweats now for close to 24 hours and I needed to change. However, the laws stated that we couldn't get off the airplane and by the look of the armed guards surrounding the plane on the tarmac, I could see that I was going to have to change in a one foot by one foot room of the toilet.
I put on some decent clothes but it didn't help. It was still seven million degrees on the plane. And there were no little vents to keep us cool. None. As in - They didn't build the plane with the little nubby vents that you twist for relief. It was stifling.
Todd was talking to some Americans in the aisle near his seat and when I got closer he introduced me to them. It was Geoff Bodine - NASCAR champion. He was out here on a tour just like us and he was just the nicest guy. He made you feel good and I guess that's why he's here, it's not like he's going to tell jokes or sing songs for the troops, he's a race car driver!
The last flight of the trip was less than thirty minutes. When we got off the plane, out of customs and out into the night air and it was over 100 degrees with perfect humidity. It was death. I was too tired to care or I would have collapsed and died.
We drove to the base through Bahrain. The city is a bit ragged and beautiful all at the same time. It looks like every Middle Eastern city that you've seen on TV and in the movies - Puddy yellow buildings, made of concrete and covered with matching yellow sand. Lots of fancy cars and brown people wearing white. I wish my first impression could have been better but I was in a coma and barely breathing.
For some reason we decided that we needed to eat something and so, for reasons I can't explain, I ate A&W burgers. I can't remember what it tasted like, but I ate it.
I went to bed - - at 2 a.m. Over 35 hours after I woke up.
The next day started for me before I woke up. Shitting was to become my new favorite past time.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
invasion of bahrain
Episode #1
Too Tired to Post
Monday Morning and I am all nerves. I woke up early because I wanted to get in a good walk and take care of some other errands before I went to the airport. It's never a good idea to have this much to do before a flight, but timing isn't always on your side.
I got some American dinero out of the bank and picked up a package at the post office that had my KC Royals hat in it. I need that hat to keep the heat off and I want to send a message to everyone in the Middle East and Africa that I am not afraid of who I am. Especially if who I am is someone who favors a bad baseball team. Never be ashamed to express your love.
The airport security tags me for not checking any luggage on a trip to the Middle East. Every part of me gets a healthy licking and pawing over before they let me on the plane. I am expecting a lousy flight with no food so I forage as much chow as I can. In my haste, I grab a ham and cheese sandwich and some extra crispy potato chips.
A mix up with the airline has blessed me with the greatest single gift of all time - A first class plane ticket for a 9 hour flight. And it's a front row seat so there is nothing but acreage in front of me. I get a thick, fluffy pillow and blanket. A gift bag with an eye cover, fresh booties, lip balm, tooth brush, a selection of over a hundred movies, and a seat that reclines to a completely prone position and it massages your back - For nine wonderful hours.
I chose not to sleep thinking the best plan of action was to stay awake through the next day and sleep when I get all the way to Bahrain. It's a foolish mistake that I will pay for later, but I was confused by the ever-so relaxing back massage. Instead of sleep, I watched five or six movies. Most of them were good.
I landed in Amsterdam at 7 a.m. Amsterdam has always had the misfortune of being the first place I see in Europe when I'm terribly jet-lagged. This time would be no different. The sun is bright and I have 7 hours before my connecting flight so I have some time to tour.
I put my bag in a luggage locker at the airport and all I take with me is my passport, my money and the receipt that allows me to get my stuff back. I am wearing my sweat pants, my hoodie and my KC Royals hat. I scream, "AMERICAN!"
I was warned that Amsterdam was the pick pocket capital of the world and I am wearing an outfit that only has two pockets in it, both of which are wide open, easy targets for the best pick-pockets in the world. My nerves are even more rattled by the fact that I am just entering the natural time of sleep and I don't stay awake against my will well. I look haggered and strung out, but I am in the right town for it.
I catch the train in to Amsterdam in the basement of the airport and I get off the train at the exact same train station that I left Amsterdam in on my last trip here. So it's sort of a "coming home" feeling and a good omen for me. I ask for directions to Anne Frank's house figuring that I only have time to see that before I need to get back. It's the first time my accent has fallen out here and suddenly I feel eyes upon me. If they want my goods, it's gonna be a fight.
I am walking Amsterdam at 9 a.m. There is a bustle of early morning activity and a lot of sexy Europeans on bikes riding around. The more I look at these people the less I think "pot head" and the more I think "sex pot." Europeans always look like they could either break out in to a massive orgy at any second or that they are going to spit on you. Kinda sexy either way you look at it.
Anne Frank's house is famous for its seven hour wait to get in. Most restaurants could only dream of this kind of turn out. There isn't a soul there. I get in and I am out in less than thirty minutes. Not that I didn't appreciate it, I just didn't get into it. For one - no photos. Two - Anne Frank's house is bigger than mine. I was under the impression that the lived in a tiny little box. This thing had two stories and a beautiful view. I guess I was just too tired to fully get the point.
I was back at the airport at 11. I picked up my gear and found my gate. No security checks, nothing. I get to the gate and it's mostly Middle Eastern folks and a few rich white fellas, so I know I must be in the right spot. I'm famished after my morning so I reach into my bag and grab
Too Tired to Post
Monday Morning and I am all nerves. I woke up early because I wanted to get in a good walk and take care of some other errands before I went to the airport. It's never a good idea to have this much to do before a flight, but timing isn't always on your side.
I got some American dinero out of the bank and picked up a package at the post office that had my KC Royals hat in it. I need that hat to keep the heat off and I want to send a message to everyone in the Middle East and Africa that I am not afraid of who I am. Especially if who I am is someone who favors a bad baseball team. Never be ashamed to express your love.
The airport security tags me for not checking any luggage on a trip to the Middle East. Every part of me gets a healthy licking and pawing over before they let me on the plane. I am expecting a lousy flight with no food so I forage as much chow as I can. In my haste, I grab a ham and cheese sandwich and some extra crispy potato chips.
A mix up with the airline has blessed me with the greatest single gift of all time - A first class plane ticket for a 9 hour flight. And it's a front row seat so there is nothing but acreage in front of me. I get a thick, fluffy pillow and blanket. A gift bag with an eye cover, fresh booties, lip balm, tooth brush, a selection of over a hundred movies, and a seat that reclines to a completely prone position and it massages your back - For nine wonderful hours.
I chose not to sleep thinking the best plan of action was to stay awake through the next day and sleep when I get all the way to Bahrain. It's a foolish mistake that I will pay for later, but I was confused by the ever-so relaxing back massage. Instead of sleep, I watched five or six movies. Most of them were good.
I landed in Amsterdam at 7 a.m. Amsterdam has always had the misfortune of being the first place I see in Europe when I'm terribly jet-lagged. This time would be no different. The sun is bright and I have 7 hours before my connecting flight so I have some time to tour.
I put my bag in a luggage locker at the airport and all I take with me is my passport, my money and the receipt that allows me to get my stuff back. I am wearing my sweat pants, my hoodie and my KC Royals hat. I scream, "AMERICAN!"
I was warned that Amsterdam was the pick pocket capital of the world and I am wearing an outfit that only has two pockets in it, both of which are wide open, easy targets for the best pick-pockets in the world. My nerves are even more rattled by the fact that I am just entering the natural time of sleep and I don't stay awake against my will well. I look haggered and strung out, but I am in the right town for it.
I catch the train in to Amsterdam in the basement of the airport and I get off the train at the exact same train station that I left Amsterdam in on my last trip here. So it's sort of a "coming home" feeling and a good omen for me. I ask for directions to Anne Frank's house figuring that I only have time to see that before I need to get back. It's the first time my accent has fallen out here and suddenly I feel eyes upon me. If they want my goods, it's gonna be a fight.
I am walking Amsterdam at 9 a.m. There is a bustle of early morning activity and a lot of sexy Europeans on bikes riding around. The more I look at these people the less I think "pot head" and the more I think "sex pot." Europeans always look like they could either break out in to a massive orgy at any second or that they are going to spit on you. Kinda sexy either way you look at it.
Anne Frank's house is famous for its seven hour wait to get in. Most restaurants could only dream of this kind of turn out. There isn't a soul there. I get in and I am out in less than thirty minutes. Not that I didn't appreciate it, I just didn't get into it. For one - no photos. Two - Anne Frank's house is bigger than mine. I was under the impression that the lived in a tiny little box. This thing had two stories and a beautiful view. I guess I was just too tired to fully get the point.
I was back at the airport at 11. I picked up my gear and found my gate. No security checks, nothing. I get to the gate and it's mostly Middle Eastern folks and a few rich white fellas, so I know I must be in the right spot. I'm famished after my morning so I reach into my bag and grab
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