Yesterday over at the MoD, we were on our way back to USS EGGERS (LHD-1369) when we got diverted to swing by another office to pick up some documents. I had just been to two meetings, which works out to two or more cups of tea. The chai was well advanced on the journey to its inevitable destination by that time. I made a quick assessment that I couldn’t take a third cup without significant discomfort. However, the porcelain conveniences at the MoD are notoriously primitive.
I turned to my ‘terp and said in Dari, “R—, where is the bathroom?”
“Sir,” he replied in a tone he might have used to prevent me from walking up to an IED, “can’t you wait??”
“Neh. It cannot be denied.”
“If you must, it is there–” indicating a dank room off the corridor. As if the smell didn’t give it away. “Please be cautious. It is not good.”
Mustering more courage than I thought I possessed, I proceeded. The effluvium, the vapors, the entire scene staggered me. Yet, I persevered. Stand steady, I said to myself, and think of the mission.
And they ask me why I drink.
