BBQ . . . . . Afgan Style. . .

BBQ …Afghan Style…

I was recently was talking to my Better Half…and I was being scolded for being tardy with my blog…my comment “Honey…haven’t you been watching the news…bad people are trying to blow up Kabul…I’ve been a little busy.”….she informed me..the war could wait…do your blog!...so here it is…

I was making good time on my crocodiles…I had firmly placed my feet between the shoulders of my two behemoths (cuff n link)…the better half is waving to me from an island..she is wearing her red flannel jammies with the built in footies..…I can almost hear her…..shhhhhh….

BAM BAM….DUMB ASS…WAKE UP…I respond accordingly…GO AWAY….

You’re sleeping the day away (it is now 10am…got off night shift at 7am)..you can sleep when you’re dead (what a ridiculous saying!)

I pull myself out of my bunk…walk over to the door…open it…oh it’s the Coin Bitch (let me explain)...Billy is from Texas…he’s Texan thru and thru…from his 250 pound frame…twangy accent..crooked smile..and Texas tattoo the size of a salad plate…that’s Billy

He is sort of a celebrity…Billy detained an eastern European dude who looked exactly like one of the terrorist we are looking for….blonde hair..big head..blue eyes…pointy ears…oh great!...I just described me!

Anyway…he grabs this guy out of the car and sits on him…poor guy…as it turns out his credentials check out and he really is who he said he was…but when you don't speak Albanian..it sort of gets lost in the translation..anyway the bosses at the top were extremely impressed with Billy’s alertness…even if it was the wrong guy….so we had a ceremony and Billy got a coin…Billy is now fondly called the Coin Bitch…I think I am going to get him a T-shirt with that printed on it…I just haven’t found a t-shirt the size of a small family sedan to print it on…

Back to reality…In the doorway…Billy is grinning…come on…let’s go to Eggers….I reply…no…he replies..we’ll take the new guy….you mean the one who said he would never leave the compound because its not safe out there….yeah…I’ll be dressed in five minutes..…

We now proceed to the new guy’s room…he has violated the first rule of all security professional…always lock your door because people like Billy and me will bother you when you least expect it…this poor kid had only been in country less than a week…and didn’t like what he saw….Billy and I feel it’s time for a little shock treatment to get him “up to speed”…it’s the least we can do…being fellow comrades and all..

We open the door and he sleeping like an angel…Billy grabs one leg and I get the other…we commence to drag him out of bed..one small problem…my leg somehow got on the other side of the bunk post and we were sort of breaking him like a chicken wish bone…about this time..he woke up..screaming….which actually is a good sign…I think…I immediately tried to calm him…”you can sleep when you’re dead!”….for some reason this comment sounds better when I’m saying it……

As I said earlier..Billy easily goes 250 and I am a svelte 225..our victim weighs around 160…I’ve had rucksacks weigh more than this kid…our victim is holding on to the bunk as it skids across the floor…we’ve almost got him in the hallway except the bunk wont fit thru the door…so this is when we attempted to mentor and coach him… “get up girly man…put your big boy pants on…does your Va Jay Jay hurt…..cluck cluck!!”……you all know how this goes…like getting you brother to canoe down the calm river with you..which turns into rapids..which turns into a waterfall…something like that..

Finally..I pull out the big guns…okay chicken boy…you can drive….really?...yes really..now get dressed! We will meet you in 5 minutes at the parking are…and clean this room up…it’s a mess!!

As we’re walking down the stairs Billy whispers to me…are we really going to let him drive?....are you kidding!!...Billy felt better…

Somehow we had acquired the Surf…it’s similar to a Toyota suv…but on the outside of the vehicle there is a big word “Surf” on the side of the vehicle…go figure…going on this foray is four old timers and the new kid…as promised he shows up on time…like a lamb to the slaughter…he walks up and immediately heads for the driver side..my boss blurts out…”what in the world are you doing?”….Jack said I could drive….boss replies…”well there’s two things wrong with that…first..you haven't been thru the driver’s training course and second…never listen to Jack…now get in the back! I get the look… but its from a new guy so it doesn’t count…Billy and I put him between us in the backseat..

The boss starts the suv…we start rolling forward….brakes!!......okay..who has a weapon…front guy shows his pistol…Billy shows his pistol…I show my hands in my best Karate pose…Boss’s response....”you’re kidding me right”…I show my pistol….now the new kid’s eyes get huge…”I don’t have a pistol!!...Billy explained….don't worry…we have plenty….this didn’t seem to calm him….we also explained to him that historically vehicles are taken out by massive improvised explosive devices (IED’s) and not small arms fire…this also didn’t calm him…okay…hold mine you little wussy baby!!...(very professional dialogue as you can see)

The ride to Eggers was uneventful…we only had eight or nine close calls…about the norm….as we pull into Eggers…we are promptly informed that our vehicle did not have the proper plates to enter the compound…what made this so funny was the fact that we had NO plates on the vehicle…

We are told we must go to the “special” gate and get a “special” pass….of course we are not near the “special” gate…so off we go…we drive about a mile and to our surprise (not really)..there is a detour…then another…and one more…we are now a gadzillion miles from the “special” gate and that’s as the donkey trots….so we decide we really didn’t want to go to Eggers anyway…Boss…”hey guys..lets get some steaks and have a BBQ”…who am I to say no to a BBQ….let’s go!!

Jumping three concrete medians…and going the wrong way on two traffic circles…we end up out side an un-assuming building with a sign… “Fat Fred’s Meat Forest”…..really..I can’t make this stuff up….the shop is owned by an American…but run by Afghans..its on a four lane highway with no parking…we pull up on the curb…slash sidewalk…we leave the suv running with one old timer and the new guy…the rest of us pile out and trot into the shop…we are greeted by three great guys who are only too proud to show us their products….after a small debate…we decide on the sirloin steaks….they bring out a quarter of a cow and commence to carve off our steaks….Holy Moly!!!...close to two inches thick and the size of a hubcap off of a 1958 Buick Road-master… I begin salivating…

We pack our trophy meat into a bag and head back out to the suv….and then I spot him…he’s on the other side of the road…..he has a cart loaded with hundreds of those skinny long balloons…you know…the ones you saw at the rich kid’s birthday party where the clown with a hangover made little animals from them….I had the strongest urge to make a crocodile…..or poodle…

I get halfway across the road and I’m waving a dollar bill….this is like a flame for a moth…..the man quickly pushes his cart out into the road and we begin to barter…I knew I would get at least three or four…but I want more!!

We now have traffic backed up for half a kilometer and my boss has now threatened me with KP duty if I didn’t “get my ass back here now!” (party pooper)…I returned empty handed…jumped into the Surf…and off we go…another five or six close calls and we are back at camp…

The charcoal had been left out in the rain….so we did what every man would do…..diesel….lots of it…gas was also an option…it just so happened that the diesel was closer (economy of effort.. right guys)

Now in our defense…we think we only put a quart on the charcoal…but I wasn’t there when the first quart was put on…so I put a quart on….and I think Billy might have put some on…so I can say with some authority that the following incident was Billy’s fault..

When we finally threw the lighted stick onto the grill and witnessed the fireball and heard the woosh from all the oxygen being sucked out of the air…I was particularly impressed with the way the shade screen on the gazebo melted back…simultaneously…the Ghurka in the far gun tower sounded the fire alarm…personally I think the Ghurka over reacted… and when Billy and I got up from the ground.. we discussed his premature use of the alarm..then started throwing dirt on the rose bush across the road which had caught fire…

After just an hour..we were able to get close enough to the grill to burn..I mean grill our sides of beef..I’m sure the glow from our grill could have been seen from space….it could have been used for some type of navigational aid for aircraft transversing our area…

I drag my charred meat off the grill and without a plate or utensils…I eat my side of beef with my bare hands…now this is real man food…I also noticed I no longer had any hair on my knuckles or forearms…from my elbows down…I’m as bare as a new-born baby….I really don’t mind…except the new guys even thinks it’s funny….no balloon for him!

Grillmaster signing off…