Qatari Nights

so qatar's camp as saliyah is an interesting place to say the least...

it's more or less the middle eastern military post equivalent of las vegas, and apparently what happens in qatar stays in qatar. unless you pick up a disease; that travels back to the war with you.

troops are allowed three alcoholic drinks a day, which really, after five months being dry, quite does the trick. i'm pleased to state that i celebrated my 26th by setting three sheets to the wind (it's easy to exceed the limit with the proper assistance of one's friends and countrymen). of course, some folks take irresponsibility to an whole other level, like the fellow found face down in a toilet with his pants around his ankles in a perverse sort of genuflection; with a couple of shipmates looking out for him, this soldier failed to produce his own name, and then in some unidentifiable eastern european accent slurred a cheerful, albeit somewhat pained, "my pants, they come up now, ya?" i nearly sharted i laughed so hard.

here's where i comment on the massive difference between the army and the navy in terms of our liberty policies: it's part of naval culture that we can define the line between hedonistic excess, and prison, and then proceed to tread that line narrowly, but deftly. we're used to pulling into a port, getting cut loose, and thoroughly debauching ourselves--but with a weather eye out. one needs must be mostly sober to stand duty, after all (only mostly, though. it's not like a shut down reactor can cause any serious problems.). we also take care of one another. personnel on leave to camp as saliyah are not allowed to depart the premises without an escort, and the only real opportunities to experience anything of the nation are highly structured, chaperoned tours. as sailors, my mates and i (we rolled four deep from phoenix, hoping for a bit of trouble), were disgusted by the restriction. anyhoo, my point is that all the other soldiers in that head laughed at their fellow in distress, so it was sailors that picked him up, put his pants back on, and walked him to a rack. navy taking care of the army again? anyone see a pattern here?

nobody on leave to as saliyah wears a uniform, and rank effectively disappears like a furtive couple into a bunker for some heated fumbling in the humid dark. rank then comes out of the bunker with scraped knees and/or sand in her shorts, gives good order a high five, slaps discipline on the ass, and grabs a beer before heading back in for more. staggering.

i'd like to close with a shout-out to a slender young thing i saw my last night there. this girl, god bless her, when packing her rucksack--for the desert, mind you--said to herself, "hey, maybe i'll get some time off. i should take my leather pants!" awesome. especially given that she was effectively lap-dancing--to a disturbed (the band, not the adjective) song--on her [i must assume] lover with moves so no-shit professional she almost made me blush and turn away. almost.

the part i couldn't understand was how bored he looked.
stupid bastard.