It's A (Tent) Life

Night 3 in my tent on a military base. The wind is blowing, and there is lightening in the distance. We are basically in the desert, so I expect there will be little rain to show for all this blow.

There is some doubt that I will survive the night. Screw the Taliban—the guys around here will shoot them in a Kabul minute. The real danger for me is this mattress—which is sitting atop a cot. Your normal mattress is about 36” wide. Your normal cot is about 24” wide. So while I am appreciative of the extra padding, the fact is that last night I rolled over toward the edge of the mattress, it gave way, and I awoke and caught myself just before crashing to the floor.
I think that was the only time in the last 3 days that I dozed off. Otherwise, I have been spending sleepless nights. I don’t know why.

Ok, truth be told, I do know why. The fact is that I am filled with angst with the thought of going to pee at night, getting lost, and winding up being shot by some crazy Italian soldier.

This is not just idol paranoia. I think it is very possible—some might say likely. First of all, the Italians never shoot at anyone, so they are due. They also have wine on base, so they are loopier than normal.

Secondly, I broke my glasses. Problem. Only the left lens remains intact, which isn’t good when you are right eye dominant. I am blind as a bat without my specs, which I wear even in the dark. Without them, well….think Stevie Wonder.

Next, this is a blacked out base, and I don’t have a flashlight.

Finally, the bathroom is out the tent, past the humvee, around the Jersey barrier/blast wall, and through a cut in the wall. If it were midday, without my glasses I would have to feel my way along. In the pitch black of an Afghan night, I am Mr. Magoo.

The nightmare scenario came to pass last night. I tried to ignore the call, but no deal. So I roll over to get up, and of course the mattress gives way, resulting in my first brush with death.

Using my 4 am lightening reflexes, I steady myself.

I grab my glasses—make that my glass—and slip it on. Suddenly I am Colonel Klink.

I reach for my flip-flops, but the damn things are hiding in the dark. I am forced to slip my hiking boots on, which was lucky, as they would shortly save my life. Unable to find my shorts, I decide that, if captured by the Italian Army, I will simply have to bear the indignity of being seen on Roma TV-9 in my skivvies.

I begin to feel my way out of the tent. About 29 seconds/5 feet into the trip I kick the metal pole support in the middle of the aisle. Luckily, my hiking boots are on, and tragedy is narrowly averted.

I shuffle out the door to—black. There are a few stars out, and as my eyes adjust I can see vague shapes. Then I realize I am not looking out of my left eye—so I take my hand to cover my right eye, stick my left arm out to feel for barriers, and slowly shuffle my way around the corner, where I am greeted by a sliver of light from—Eureka!!!—the bathroom. The rest of the way is no problem, and it only takes me about 45 minutes to shuffle over.

Blinded by the light, I now return to vast darkness of Afghanistan. As those that have climbed Everest, the hard part is often times getting down.

I feel my way back, ducking once when I thought I heard someone singing what sounded like an Italian opera. Somehow, I make it back to my tent, only to realize that I did not leave my light on, so I have no idea where my tarp enclosed cot/mattress/killing machine is located. I find my way to the table in the middle, then feel my way down to what I believe is my space, which, amazingly is mind. Yes, sometimes even a blind pig (farmer) can find a cot.

As I snuggle under the covers, still shaking with fear from the near-death encounter just experienced, I hear the unmistakable tinkle of someone peeing in a Gatorade bottle next to me.
Damn, why didn’t I think of that?

Well, tonight I have, and I hope I sleep well. And the next time you see those cool ‘G’ commercials for Gatorade, you can think of me….