Kuwait

Today is windy and the sand has a tendency to sweep up and swap its prickly fingers on your face. You stop a moment and close your eyes to escape the dirt and in the darkness, this place is all the more lonely. You open your eyes again and you are surrounded by desert colored tents, rows upon rows of sad slums where soldiers sleep because there is little to be done. Past tent city, McDonald's arches lighten up the grey sky and I suppose some find it comforting, this fast food chain may feel like home. Beside those golden arches are Pizza Hut and Subway, and soldiers line up to eat such treats when the blandness of the chow hall is just to much to bear. Nearby are the monstrous MWR tents with concrete floors and a constant line for the low speed Internet on ancient computers. If you'd like to take a nap, there are plenty of leather couches as long as you don't mind resting your head on a stranger's dried drool stain. Your ears will feel soothed if you don't mind the sounds of ping pong balls bouncing and pool balls rolling onto the floor. Three television sets are always on with some football game playing and the announcer's voice hums throughout the room whether at noon or 3 am. A loudspeaker, with volumes reaching around the entire base, calls for soldiers to prepare for flights at any hour and test alarm bells are annoying enough to make your ears bleed. "Make it stop already," you call out hopelessly.
Why would one frequent such a dismal place?
We are stuck here, on our way home or on our way to begin a deployment. Either way we are weary travelers with one dusty bag as our only possession. Either way we are already sick of the desert and that is our unfortunate fate, whether coming or going.