One of my mistakes in the comedy biz is that I’ve never been good about staying on top of bookers (depending on how you interpret that, it’s actually two mistakes). I don’t know what the fine line is between following up and being a pest so I tend to err on the side of caution, which is why it took me so damn long to book the Afghanistan tour. But I’m trying to be a little more aggressive when it comes to gigs I really want so I just checked in with him again and he reiterated that we’d do a tour but that he didn’t have any open slots until next year. Of course I was bummed that I’d have to wait so long and then I was totally ashamed. Ashamed because my initial thought was, “Next year?! With my luck the war will be over by next year.”

What I learned is that I’m both incredibly selfish and unbelievably optimistic. And what all of you need to learn is that if you vote for McCain then my selfishness wins. Don’t let that happen.

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Corby Carter was the main point of contact for the trip. He’s based in Germany and handled all our arrangements to, from and through Ramstein Air Force Base. He’s the one that had to listen to me giggle every time I saw the word ahsfart.

Sergeants Stovall and Allen are a couple of saints. They’re the ones who had to babysit us through our countless flight delays at Bagram. Sometimes that meant getting up at 3 am then again at 6 am then again at 9 am to check flight availability. In between they had to pick us up for meals at the DFAC and Sgt. Stovall was kind enough to accompany me to the bazaar. Sgt. Allen’s wife is stationed at Kandahar base and they have a one-year-old son living in the states with family. Stories like that made me appreciate the soldiers’ sacrifices all the more.

Captain Jen Mack was our MWR (Moral, Welfare and Recreation) contact at Camp Eggers. I don’t have a picture of her but she looked like she was about 23 so either she’s very youthful looking or she zoomed up the ranks to Captain. She gave us the option to either sleep in the soldiers’ quarters or to share a private room together. For some reason I agreed to the private quarters even though I thought Ira looked like a snorer (which he confirmed to be true) but luckily some other people’s stuff was in the room so Capt. Mack arranged for us to be in the ultra-VIP quarters where we had individual rooms, each with its own toilet and shower! To most people reading this the exclamation point may seem funny but out there, that was the sort of luxury that made me do a happy dance.

These toasts went out to Andy, Courtney and Gaylord from Camp Blackhorse. They were three of the very cool soldiers on one of our convoys. The fourth member of our convoy was Steve who took me to dinner at the hot interpreter’s place, which was one of the highlights of the trip for me (and no, not simply because he was hot).

Callie, Max and Sgt. Perry were the MWR folks at Kandahar. I should have a picture of them because they took me on a meet-and-greet where Max, the photographer, took about a million pictures but unfortunately I never got any of them. Max and Callie took me on the tour of the base in which the little Afghan girl opened our door. There was also a cute Canadian soldier along for the ride and I swear I couldn’t help but laugh every time he said “out” or “about” or “eh?” I don’t know why that’s so funny to me but it is- I really need to grow up. Sgt. Perry took me and Ira to some little shack where I smoked my first Cuban cigar, which the Dutch sell. Seriously overrated (the Cuban cigar, that is. Sgt. Perry was great as I’m sure are the Dutch).

Johnny Johnson was our man at Camp Jalalabad (I still love that word). This was one of the bases that never gets entertainment so things weren’t exactly smooth. They didn’t have a microphone (luckily Ira brought one) and the show was in the DFAC with a 6:30 start time so people were still eating. But it ended up being a good crowd and afterward Johnny let me use the Internet connection in his office. Sure, it took me 45 minutes to send TWO emails, but that’s how it is out there.

This toast went out to the Persco folks at Manas in Kyrgyzstan (I don’t know what Persco means but they handle the flight stuff). Ira had some kind of problem with his ATM card and couldn’t withdraw money throughout the entire trip. When we got to Manas, we each had to pay $35 for a visa and I only had $50 on me so I couldn’t cover his and one of the girls paid for his visa with her own money. I didn’t think it was cool to have her pay and I knew the tour booker wouldn’t be happy about that so she agreed to take me to the nearest ATM, which was at the commercial airport next to the base. It was kind of a hassle getting on and off the base and through the Kyrgy security at the airport so it was all very generous of her. And yeah, that’s what I was doing until 4 am the night before Ira caught a flight out of Manas, after which I was stranded there for five days.

Sgt. Bennett was the manager of the bar called Pete’s Place in Kyrgyzstan. When he learned I was a standup comic, he asked me to perform in between a country band’s sets the next night so I agreed to do it. He then cleared it with his boss who asked him to find out if my material was appropriate. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond because people have wildly different ideas of what’s appropriate. For the Afghanistan portion of my trip I was told I couldn’t do a lot of clean material that touched on controversial topics however, I could do all the dick jokes I wanted. But usually when a booker wants a clean show it’s the other way around. I checked back the next afternoon to see if it was a go and he hadn’t been able to contact his superior yet so he said for me to do my set and he would take responsibility if there were any problems. I wasn’t too keen on that and when I arrived at showtime, the room was packed with soldiers shooting pool, watching videos and playing cards. And there was a large contingent of Italian soldiers who had just arrived- not exactly the ideal setting for a comedy show. I was just about to back out of the show when Major Friersen came along…

Maj. Friersen wasn’t the person in charge of the bar but he was a higher rank than the person in charge and he gave the go ahead for me to perform. And he was so full of enthusiasm and appreciation that I’d be performing that I could hardly back out. So I reluctantly did my set and surprisingly the room quieted and the show went much better than I expected. Afterward, Maj. Friersen personally took the time to accompany me to the PAX terminal and beat them down to get me on a flight (now that I think about it, maybe he wasn’t assisting because he liked my show but because he hated it and wanted to get me the hell out of there. Hmm…). I want to add that high ranking officers are supposed to have reps for being hardasses but in my various tours I’ve met quite a few Majors, Colonels and even a General and they were all extremely cool guys.

In closing, thanks to all the soldiers who assisted me personally and most of all, thanks for all you do for our country!!

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2008. |
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Before I get to the European portion of my trip, there are some things I left out of my other recaps for various reasons and I’ll include them here.

One aspect of military tours I really love is getting to do things I never would have had the opportunity to do otherwise. Probably the coolest experience for me this time around was shooting an M4 semi-automatic weapon. A can was set up about 30 yards away and I plugged away at it, hitting it on each of my first three shots. Here you can witness my prowess with the M4:

I was pretty proud of my shooting, especially considering the only other time I’ve ever shot a gun was at a gun club and after firing off about 10 rounds I had to ask where they went and learned that because of the kickback I’d been hitting the ceiling.

Another unique experience I had was driving a humvee. The soldiers wanted me to go full speed through the mud puddles but I knew with my luck I’d somehow flip the truck and have to explain that. So I left the crazy maneuvers to the experienced drivers but I still had some fun doing a little off-roading (actually, the roads are so ripped up in Afghanistan that even on-roading is the equivalent of off-roading).

Soldiers in war zones have some tight rules, including no sex, no booze. But of course that doesn’t stop them, they just keep it on the down low. Here’s a picture of me and Ira partaking of a bit of Stoli. I think it was the only time Ira smiled the whole trip.

A few times the topic of the military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy came up and I was pleased to find that most of the guys I talked to said they didn’t care if someone in their unit was gay and a couple guys said they knew at least one who had admitted to being homosexual. But there was one soldier who spewed some “fags go to hell” comments. It took a lot of restraint on my part not to lash back but unfortunately the law of the land prevented me from trying to enlighten his ignorant ass. There was one civilian contractor who was obviously gay and he went out of his way to make anti-gay comments. I understand he can’t tell but going to lengths to lie just seemed silly to me.

At the end of the Afghanistan portion of the trip one of the soldiers asked me what I’d missed while I was gone. I told him I missed “Lost” and I really wasn’t joking. A few weeks away from family and friends is nothing for me but knowing there were new episodes of “Lost” that I couldn’t watch was pure torture. I also missed ice. I’m a big fan of ice and a lot of the bases didn’t have any. None. I wish there was some way to pack that.

All right, that’s pretty much it for Afghanistan. Paris (recap) is calling.

© Jenée for Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots, 2008. |
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I spoke to the flight agents and learned there weren’t any flights going anywhere for four days.

With four days to kill, I spent that time trying to find other travel options, taking advantage of the cheap beauty salon and hanging out at Pete’s Place, the rec. center/bar- yes bar! Beer and wine were served at Manas but there was a limit of two drinks per 24 hours, which they were very strict about. But at least they had 7% beer in 24 oz bottles so it was probably the equivalent of 4-5 American beers with which to drown my sorrows.

Manas serves as a sort of transitional spot between US bases in Europe and the Middle East so there’s a lot of traffic going through there. During my stay I met two other entertainment acts passing through on their way in. The first was a group of NFL football players. One thing I’ve learned from seeing them and from living in Hawaii during the Pro Bowl is that if you want to gather a bunch of black women in one spot, advertise NFL football players. In Hawaii, I’d see a handful of black women throughout the year but Pro Bowl week bunches of them suddenly appeared like snails in the rain. I don’t know where they were hiding in Manas but they came out in full force for the NFL.

This hottie with me is Luis Castillo from the San Diego Chargers. His group was about to do roughly the same tour I did so I gave him the lowdown on what to expect and he was pretty freaked about the possibility of going on a convoy (I love it when I can incite a little fear in a 250 pound tank). When he expressed his anxiety it was the first time I realized I hadn’t been scared or nervous for even a second of my trip- which has to mean something is seriously wrong with me- but I think it allowed me to enjoy the whole trip all the more.

The second group of entertainers I met was a country band called Pete Ford and Texas Hold ‘Em. The manager of the rec. center had asked me to perform and I gladly accepted so I did a 30 minute show in between the band’s sets. Afterward I hit it off with the band and we seriously discussed the possibility of me joining them for their tour, which was taking them to Kuwait and United Arab Emirates. The idea of a last-minute road trip through the Middle East amused me and I definitely would have done it if we’d been able to coordinate it in time but when my flight on day five wasn’t further delayed I had to take it and settle for Paris instead. Finally!

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This morning we flew back to Bagram then caught a flight to Jalalabad. This first picture is of the airport just outside the base limits and the second is an aerial view of the first grass I’ve seen since I’ve been here. If you look closely you can see that every section of land is cordoned off by a wall- it’s like that all over Afghanistan. Some of these lots have properties on them but most don’t and I can’t quite figure out why so many barren sections of land have walls around them.

On some flights they ask us what our blood type is. That’s it- passport and blood type. I don’t think there’s any good reason why anybody needs to know my blood type, sort of the way I can’t think of any bad reason why someone needs to know the size of my ring finger. Then when I tell them my blood type is AB negative they say, “Oooh, I never hear that one.” That definitely can’t be good. Whatever their reason is for asking, I’m inclined to believe there’s safety in numbers when it comes to blood type. I guess I’ll just have to hope it’s never essential information.

Last night we were told our departure from Jalalabad would probably be in the afternoon so I stayed up late attempting to get online. Around 2 am I finally hit the sack. Three hours later there was pounding on my door telling me my flight was leaving in a few minutes. The military just loves to keep you on your toes.

Luckily the flight was a short one and we arrived at Salerno less than an hour later and I crashed for the rest of the day. Most of the bases have bazaars hosted by the Afghans on Fridays but I learned that Salerno has a daily one. When I awoke I headed over to it only to find it had closed just 15 minutes earlier. The area was nearly deserted except for one soldier and an Afghan national kicking back on lounge chairs. The soldier asked if I was wearing a pareo, a term that tipped me off to the fact that he’s a Hawaii boy. I joined them and we talked about Hawaii and told the local how beautiful everything there is. I’m sure that’s just what a guy with virtually no hope of ever visiting America, much less Hawaii, wanted to hear. I need to be a bit more careful about comments that could be construed as “rubbing it in.” I do the same thing when I meet mothers who have infants at home. They probably don’t need to hear me say, “Oh- that must be so difficult,” but I haven’t figured out how to put a positive spin on that one. Perhaps I should go the “at least you don’t have to change any diapers” route.

After soaking up the sun for awhile, the soldier and the Afghan invited me over to a bread shop for some tea and non (sp?), which is the local bread. At first they suggested I ride in a car with the Afghan dude but even I had enough sense to figure out that probably wasn’t a good idea for either one of us. Maybe it wasn’t even a good idea to ride with the Hawaii boy but he was pretty good looking so even if he got out of line, I wouldn’t have put up a struggle.

The bread shop is a rickety little building on base that contains a few items for sale and one table where I sat with the soldier and three Afghans and ate some cinnamon non. Once again, it was great talking to some locals. They echoed comments the interpreter made a few nights earlier about how the people feel safer having us (the American soldiers, not the comedians) here and how our troops are rebuilding their communities and teaching them the skills so that they can continue that growth on their own. I’m well aware that the nationals I’ve spoken to are benefiting mightily by the American dollar so perhaps their opinions aren’t representative of the average citizen but speaking with them has reminded me that we’re not just here for war but for humanitarian reasons as well.

When it was time to take off they told me my non was on the house. Normally I’m a big fan of free shit but it’s kind of hard to accept it in a nation where the average monthly income is $45. So I left them some cash and headed out then noticed the sign outside that said, “Eat here at your own risk.” Later I noticed that the Afghan in the picture copped a feel so he made out pretty well on the deal. At least my dad can take some joy in adding to his “Middle Eastern men who have groped my daughters” picture collection. Yeah, my sister also fell victim to some guys in turbans with wandering hands- and her grin was even bigger than mine.

Salerno is located about five miles from the Pakistan border and the soldiers haven’t been shy about mentioning that it suffers mortar attacks on nearly a weekly basis. Because it’s such a hotspot (as is Jalalabad), there are no street lights on at night. I was told that only colored flashlights can be used because the enemy can see white ones. Meanwhile, the tent where we were to perform was lit up like the Fourth of July. All that was missing was a bullseye under the microphone stand. A lot of the guys don’t carry any lights so it’s like Night of the Living Dead with bodies suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Right before the show, the guy in charge told me it might be a short show because they’d just fired a bunch of Afghan workers and that tends to piss people off then he opened the show with an instructional on what to do/where to go in the event of a mortar attack. Way to get the crowd pumped before a comedy show. The show went off without any incident and in the morning we head back to Bagram for our final show.

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On the outskirts of the base are some trashed buildings where some Afghan nationals still live. We drove by it just slow enough for a six-year-old girl to open the door of our SUV. For all I know it was a suicide-bomber training exercise but luckily she wasn’t packing any heat.

Today we were up bright and early to catch a flight to Bagram then another one to Jalalabad (which is poised to overtake “falafel” as my favorite word). The way things work here is you have to check in for flights three hours ahead of time and get your baggage weighed but they don’t actually take the baggage nor do they allow you to leave it unattended. That means you’re stuck in the airport until your flight leaves, which could be any moment- or never. I’m such a sucker that I still believe it’s going to be “any moment” so I stare at the walls rather than reading a book or watching a movie. Today while waiting, we were taken to a section of the airport terminal known as the “Taliban’s Last Stand.” Apparently this was the last Taliban stronghold in Afghanistan, which the coalition put an end to with a couple of fat bombs. Personally, I don’t think such force was necessary. I think they could have just promised the Taliban rides on the next planes out and they would have surrendered before a flight became available. I know I would have. Instead we spent half of a beautiful day hanging out in the airport only to be told there were no more flights so we would be stuck here another day and miss a second show.

I spent the rest of the afternoon doing laundry then I checked out a concert the British put on this evening. It was held on the Boardwalk, a huge courtyard, and featured a pretty good cover band with a Chris Daughtry lookalike for a lead singer. It was bizarre to attend an outdoor concert with a couple thousand people and not catch even one whiff of weed. The show included four dancing girls in skimpy outfits gyrating with one another- just what a bunch of guys forbidden from having sex for a year need to see.

Some guy let me use his cell phone to call home. Unfortunately, I only know two phone numbers offhand so I didn’t get to take full advantage of it. This picture is actually of a walkie talkie with a three foot antenna but it looked so much like my first cell phone I had to get a picture with it.

The distinguishing characteristic of Kandahar is the signs. They’ve got signs for everything and I thought I’d show you a little sample.

The good ‘ol “What colour is your urine?” sign is displayed on all the bathroom stalls. I thought it sounded like a fun game to play but none of the other women wanted to take me on. I guess they could tell by looking at me that I was a contender. And rightfully so- I won! They’re going to have to stop drinking water pretty early in the morning if they want to compete with the Burnt Sienna color palette I’ve got going on.

This sign hangs in the Luxembourg D-FAC (dining facility). There’s a whole Silence of the Lambs thing happening here (“It puts the lotion in the basket…”). The only thing stranger than the pronoun usage is the fact that Luxembourg is represented on a military installation.

I’m guessing this operation began during the writer’s strike because this has to be the worst-named operation in history. What’s next? Operation GotMilk? Operation Wedgie?

The thing I love about this sign is the way it tells you to find shelter after the attack has ended. It’s a good thing the military doesn’t have any signs offering sexual advice. They’d probably tell guys to put condoms on after they come.

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Today we rode in a convoy to Camp Blackhorse, another small base around Kabul. The only live entertainment they’ve had in the last year was a military band that played Celtic music so, needless to say, we were well received.

Prior to the show I joined one of the soldiers and a local interpreter for a traditional Afghan meal. The food didn’t scare me- it was actually quite good- and it was great to learn about the culture from a native. Not only that, he was seriously hot in a sweet, smart, has-no-idea-how-much-pussy-he-could-get-in-America kind of way. He told us how he fell in love with a woman but her father wouldn’t let her marry him so now he’s engaged to a woman that was arranged for him. He said that’s still very common in Afghanistan (even among cousins) and although he claimed he’s fallen in love with his fiancé, I thought I detected a bit of disappointment. If there had been any alcohol on the table, I totally would have tested his affections for her.

Naturally I had to ask him how familiar the Afghans are with American films and movie stars. He said they mostly watch action films and enjoy stars like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jean-Claude Van Damme. That made me laugh- I’d forgotten what a big star Van Damme used to be. Coming here is like stepping into a time warp. But he said they’re not totally behind and many enjoy the show “24″ and would trade 72 virgins for Angelina Jolie in a heartbeat (okay, that’s not how he put it but you get the point).

He also expanded on the concept of “Brotherly Love Thursdays,” which I’d heard about from a lot of the soldiers. They had told me that the women here are primarily for reproduction and the men turn to each other for a good time. The interpreter said the practice is not as prevalent as the soldiers suggested but that it’s also not unusual for men to be with other men- or more specifically with boys. I didn’t care to get further details after hearing that.

This was the first location where I was housed in the regular soldiers’ quarters with two roommates. The accommodations were tiny, the tampons were plentiful. I swear, I stepped into the bathroom and thought this was a shrine to the tampon gods. Apparently a lot of companies donate items to the soldiers. Too bad it’s stuff like tampons instead of high speed Internet and toilet seat covers.

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After two days of flight delays, we finally got out of Bagram via convoy. I was excited to check out the countryside only to have the driver instruct us to keep an eye out for a particular Toyota Corolla suspected of being an IED (improvised explosive device). Nice- I travel halfway around the world only to be told to keep my eyes peeled for a car I can see every day back home. As we drove past little kids they’d give us a thumbs up, which I thought was really cool. Apparently some of them flash other fingers as well.

For most of the drive there really wasn’t much to see other than the occasional mud huts the locals live in and lots and lots of dirt. Forget about seeing the ocean- I’ll bet many people in these parts live their whole lives without ever seeing grass.

We drove to Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan, where they don’t quite grasp the concept of driving lanes. They just put their cars wherever they can fit. Supposedly our military has the right of way but I didn’t notice any special treatment being given to us in the madness. It was actually kind of fun. At least, it’s fun when you’re in an up-armored vehicle but in a regular car, probably not so much.

We stayed at Camp Eggers, a small base with only about 400 soldiers but probably half of them came to our show. I have to admit, it wasn’t my greatest performance. Prior to coming here I was told I couldn’t discuss a variety of topics including sexual harassment, religion, homosexuality, the Bush administration and a couple other things. In other words, I couldn’t do half my usual act. A few times I got to bits I wasn’t allowed to do and sort of blanked on what came next, which meant there were some awkward transitions. If it were a comedy club I wouldn’t care too much about some flubs but out here I feel bad if I don’t give the troops the best performance I can. Tonight will be the first night since I’ve been here that I can sleep eight hours in a row so hopefully that will help me get it together before the next show.

After the show, I hung out with a bunch of soldiers around a campfire. The conversation was good, though sitting around a campfire where people are chugging near beer just isn’t quite the same but they make the best of it. I think I’ve mentioned before here that the big difference between overseas military shows and comedy club shows is that the soldiers don’t just enjoy the shows, they appreciate them. Many of them make a big deal about us coming out here, which makes me feel guilty because my reason for being here is hardly selfless. It’s a great adventure for me for a couple weeks then I get to go home.

They’re all here for 6-15 months with only two weeks of R&R to visit with their spouses and children. Afterward they go home for a few months then they get deployed to Iraq or some other fabulous locale. And not just men, there are plenty of women here who are away from their young children for such long periods. I mention all this because even though I’ve done the overseas gigs before, when I’m home I don’t think I’m as conscientious as I could be about thanking soldiers who have returned from deployment but I will make a greater effort to do so when I go back and hopefully some of you reading this will as well.

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Today we checked in at 5:30 am for our 7 am flight and I was quite pleased that it was actually on time. We took off in an eight seater plane for a ride I was told would take about 10 minutes. Twenty minutes later we landed- at the same place we’d just left. Apparently there were some mechanical problems so we were told we’d have to wait until 1 pm to depart. At 1 pm it started raining and the flights were cancelled, meaning we’ll have to spend another night at Bagram and miss our first scheduled show. I guess we should consider ourselves lucky that we were able to return to the base without incident, unlike Senators John Kerry, Joseph Biden and Chuck Hagel whose helicopters had to make emergency landings in the mountains then travel by motor convoy back to Bagram.

I only took one picture all day (of this Coke can) partly because all I’ve seen today is the waiting room at the PAX terminal and partly because it’s so dry here I’m just a shriveled up mess and far from camera ready. I swear my hands look like those of an 80-year-old woman and my face isn’t faring much better. I’m starting to think those burkas aren’t a bad idea…as long as they’re brown. There’s really no point in wearing any other color since everything ends up brown at the end of the day. Even with the rain this place is just one big dustbowl.

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