Social Stew
We sat in the connex, day in, day out. There wasn't much to do. Some slept. Some watched movies. Dave and I listened to music, read online books, and walked alot. Our favorite place was out by the edge of the camp. Looking out, it seemed like we were on Mars. The desert was reddish brown, with clumpings of rocks emerging out of nowhere.
We would hike past the tents, past the Oasis, out to an abandoned guard tower below the ridgeline. You could see the planes taking off from the airfield, and could see the Chinooks flying overhead, pallets swinging below them in the airstream. The first walks were in our early days. It was odd being here, we both knew it. There were no WMDs. Again, tell me why we are here? I questioned it, Dave questioned it. Few others did. We were surrounded by GW cheerleaders, eager to cash their checks, eager to profit from our tragic mistake. Our leaders were mostly exmilitary, and our reasons for being here were not to be questioned.
I asked him about the birds one day. Innocuous at best, but that is how it all started. There were only two types of birds that I saw regularly, the camp being rather short of vegetation and water. The next day, I got an email with pictures of the two birds. I wish I had kept it.
I had originally sat next to Ray, who had a tendency for fantods like no one I had seen. Ultimately, in a complete meltdown, exclaiming "shit rolls downhill," he dramatically gathered his things, pulled a nail out of the wooden shelf with his bare hands, and moved down to the end of the trailer. So Dave moved in next to me. It was nice to have some intelligent conversation. Finally.
Day in, day out. Twelve hours a day. Every day. We worked, we slept, we ate. Together. We learned just about everything there was to know about eachother. Sometimes that is not a good thing. But I formed an immediate bond with Dave, who was able to analyze things, was able to form an actual thought on his very own. Not like the others, who watched their DVDs until their eyeballs fell out of their skulls and drool ran down their chins. When one was sick, we all got sick. When one was happy, we were all happy. When one was bitchy, so were we all. Day after day, we morphed into one.
So we walked each afternoon, trying to pass some time in the endless days that stretched out before us, trying to get out of the stew of the connex and breathe some air. At first, we would speak of general things. Ultimately, we spoke of the deepness within, our demons, our spouses, our lives, our failures, our successes. It became our escape from the mundane, our way of blowing off the idiocy of the masses.
Beneath the guard tower, amidst the sun and wind, we formed a bond that I believed could never be broken. We sought solace among the desolation, comfort within the constraints of our other relationships. I would look into his eyes, and see pain...pain that he didn't acknowledge, pain that he had made a life avoiding. We could talk about it. We could talk about anything.
We would hike past the tents, past the Oasis, out to an abandoned guard tower below the ridgeline. You could see the planes taking off from the airfield, and could see the Chinooks flying overhead, pallets swinging below them in the airstream. The first walks were in our early days. It was odd being here, we both knew it. There were no WMDs. Again, tell me why we are here? I questioned it, Dave questioned it. Few others did. We were surrounded by GW cheerleaders, eager to cash their checks, eager to profit from our tragic mistake. Our leaders were mostly exmilitary, and our reasons for being here were not to be questioned.
I asked him about the birds one day. Innocuous at best, but that is how it all started. There were only two types of birds that I saw regularly, the camp being rather short of vegetation and water. The next day, I got an email with pictures of the two birds. I wish I had kept it.
I had originally sat next to Ray, who had a tendency for fantods like no one I had seen. Ultimately, in a complete meltdown, exclaiming "shit rolls downhill," he dramatically gathered his things, pulled a nail out of the wooden shelf with his bare hands, and moved down to the end of the trailer. So Dave moved in next to me. It was nice to have some intelligent conversation. Finally.
Day in, day out. Twelve hours a day. Every day. We worked, we slept, we ate. Together. We learned just about everything there was to know about eachother. Sometimes that is not a good thing. But I formed an immediate bond with Dave, who was able to analyze things, was able to form an actual thought on his very own. Not like the others, who watched their DVDs until their eyeballs fell out of their skulls and drool ran down their chins. When one was sick, we all got sick. When one was happy, we were all happy. When one was bitchy, so were we all. Day after day, we morphed into one.
So we walked each afternoon, trying to pass some time in the endless days that stretched out before us, trying to get out of the stew of the connex and breathe some air. At first, we would speak of general things. Ultimately, we spoke of the deepness within, our demons, our spouses, our lives, our failures, our successes. It became our escape from the mundane, our way of blowing off the idiocy of the masses.
Beneath the guard tower, amidst the sun and wind, we formed a bond that I believed could never be broken. We sought solace among the desolation, comfort within the constraints of our other relationships. I would look into his eyes, and see pain...pain that he didn't acknowledge, pain that he had made a life avoiding. We could talk about it. We could talk about anything.
posted by akantha at 1:49 PM
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