I’ve got a few days in northern Afghanistan and then more travel, but while I’m relaxing a bit let’s recap the last few days in great detail, written in real-time as I lived through it:
(Please note: Even as this was going on, it was pretty funny. Me and a handful of the rest of the small Afghanistan-bound crew kept laughing as something else went wrong. So I’m OK, Mom.)
Saturday, 0700 hours Germany time: Wake up, call about my 10am flight. Find out it has been canceled. Go looking for breakfast.
0800: After checking my e-mail, decide to check on the flight again. The terminal officials tell me the flight is still on, but I need to be there by 9am to get on.
0858: Arrive at the terminal with my three bags (total weight: around 75 pounds).
0930: Find out I’ve been bumped from the flight. Flirt with the young soldier who said she liked my Ohio State hat and new haircut. Still bumped from the flight. Told to come back at 1430 to see if I can get a seat on the 1630 flight.
1200: Seats for the 1630 flight open up and are gone in 20 minutes. Luckily, and because I didn’t trust them, I never left the terminal. I’m number six on the list.
1530: Just realized this isn’t a 1630 flight. It’s an 1830 flight, with a 1630 boarding time. I still haven’t left the terminal.
1629: Just realized that there’s no way this thing will board at 1630.
1730: Get into the boarding terminal, see that this flight is run by ATA. Consider quitting rather than board an ATA flight. Get on anyway.
1830: Pilot announces we’re ready for takeoff.
1850: Plane moves for the first time, backwards about 20 feet, then stops.
1910: Plane moves for the second time, forward into its original parking spot.
1930: Plane moves for the third time, backwards about 20 feet, then stops. This is pretty much standard ATA operating procedure.
1950: Plane actually leaves the ground.
1951: Right after takeoff, on the way up, a stream of freezing cold water spills from the overhead compartments onto my shoulder, and someone about 15 rows back is hit with a falling piece of ceiling. The male stewardess tells both of us not to worry about it.
2320: Land on the ground in Turkey. The entire plane is emptied so they can refuel and put out clean pillows and headphones, at which point we’ll all get back in our exact same seats.
0050, Sunday: After a 45 minute immigration process, we return to the plane.
0120: Upon takeoff, a stream of freezing cold water spills from the overhead compartments onto my shoulder. I use my new, clean pillow to sop up the water.
0520: Land in Kyrgyzstan. Local time is actually 0920, but since I’ll have to reset my watch again in a few hours, I’m sticking with German time.
0700: Finish immigration processing in Manus. Go to the flight terminal. Told that a plane with 90 open seats is leaving for Afghanistan in one hour. But if I wanted to be on that flight, I needed to be in this terminal 30 minutes ago, instead of somewhere else.
0800: Plane takes off with 90 empty seats. Forty other Bagram-bound passengers and I are told the next flight will be at 1430 Germany time, but seats will go up at 1230.
1200: Check on the flight, find out it has been cancelled. Next flight will be in 24 hours.
1330: After getting a tent, lie down to take a nap.
1331: Another Buckeyes fan who I befriended on the plane (I love my Ohio State hat) runs into my tent to tell me they opened a new flight, but they haven’t announced it.
1332: I’m across the base pleading for a seat on the flight. I’m now number two of 18 seats.
1430: I grab a quick dinner at the base dining hall. On the menu: Lobster tail, fried shrimp, ribs. I skip the ribs to leave room for mint chocolate chip ice cream for dessert.
1630: Board the bus to get on the flight. Drive out to the airstrip, find out the cargo plane has mechanical problems. Return to the terminal.
1800: Get back on the bus to return to the airstrip.
1830: The C-17 takes off. I’m sitting on the side of the plane, looking inward at a pile of our luggage.
1835: The C-17 levels off. I’m sitting on the side of the plane, looking inward at our luggage now strewn across about 30 feet of cargo plane floor.
2030: We land at Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan, my final destination … for the weekend. More travel to come later in the week, but now maybe I can find a bed and a shower. Local time is 10pm, because they have to be 30 minutes off from the rest of the world.
That’s traveling with the military, kids: 37.5 hours to get from Germany to Afghanistan. A little less than 10 hours actually in the air, and much of the rest waiting in terminals, traveling to terminals, and trying to get out of terminals. I’m no worse for the wear, but I am considering Hertz rent-a-car for my trip back next month.
And while I'm not one to turn down a compliment, that's ridiculous. 
*** When they announced there was a special guest, I could have sworn it was the Registrar of Alabama there to confirm that Taylor is actually 47 years old. Dude has more gray hair than Sean Connery, but I'm supposed to believe he's 29? C'mon. I sat through a whole season of 24, and I can't swallow that. Even my hair isn't that bad. 
Chapter one: Italy is the one that looks like a boot. You'll need a plane to get there. It'll cost more than re-reading that novel, you know. 
How can you identify great literature at a glance? Usually, it's based completely on events that happened within the last few weeks. 
A box of hammers. As in, that's as dumb as...
Michael Irvin. 
