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.