As I look out the small portal window I realize…

that coming home is as big a pain as leaving. To summarize… I left Baghdad a couple of weeks ago and began what will be an extended redeployment and demobilization. This includes a week’s stop on the surface on the moon in the small country of Kuwait. There is so much nothing here, the US military set up what must be 400 jillion self-powered Magnum generator lights to brighten up said “nothingness.” At night Camp Arifjan is an awesome sight of tents, portable buildings and most importantly a Starbucks trailer lit up in the literal middle of nowhere. This is where I began my “decompression” known as Warrior Transition. In retrospect it is a good thing. Initially I was unexpectedly depressed at leaving “home” and having to travel yet again. That said nothing is more rejuvenating than a couple of days of sitting in Starbucks (i.e. good coffee as opposed to the less than fulfilling Green Bean coffee) and catching up on a few movies at the MWR tent. It gave me a moment to remember what I’ve been missing. And even more enjoyable was finally returning the 150lbs of battle rattle and the additional 4000lbs of unnecessary issued gear. Don’t get me wrong I am grateful for the entrenching tool and the extreme cold weather gear; I just think it may be a little better suited elsewhere, like the North Pole perhaps.

This was all a good start but my angst really set in when we were informed of the follow-on travel arrangements. Including customs quarantine and various other “delays,” my transit back to the states was going to take no less than 60+ hours to include - 6 terminals, 4 flights, 3 countries, 2 bus transfers, and a partridge in pear tree. This is military travel at its best. I suppose the one thing that will stick with me the most is a service members ability to sleep anywhere at anytime. I no longer see seats in a Passenger Terminal – they are luxurious sleeping accommodations.

Once back in the States I was and continue to be overwhelmed by the generosity of many and the impoliteness of others. In our first steps out of customs, we were all greeted by a long patriotic procession of well wishers giving out hugs, hand-shakes, and snacks. That and the 40 degree cold temperatures were my first episodes of extreme shock. But this was soon followed up with some sneers and comments from less than accepting folks who I suppose were a bit tired of uniformed personnel coming and going through “their” terminals. I continued my travels alone now separated from the larger herd. While waiting to board my next flight my name was called over the loud speaker to see the agent. “Sir – Thank you for your service and this lady would like to upgrade your ticket.” “Uh…” I stood there stunned and at a loss for words. “Thank you ma’am but that’s not necessary.” “I know its not… but you gave something for us… Let me give you something in return. I wont take no for an answer. Besides- You look like you can use a roomier seat to get some rest” Wow – Do I look that bedraggled? “Uh…Thank you for your kindness ma’am.” She went on to explain to me that most folks don’t have a way to express their gratitude and that having someone to personalize this experience helps humanize it…make it real. I slept for the next four hours in an almost fully reclined position. (Thanks Ms SB. - I will pass on your kindness to another trooper.)

I finally arrived at my destination where I was greeted by my girlfriend and several other close friends carrying a Texas Longhorn banner. I was still very tired and tried my best not to seem overwhelmed but I truly was happy to see familiar faces. After an impromptu breakfast I checked in to my next duty station and finally got some sleep – about 10 hours worth which is a lot seeing that my new pattern is 4 to 6.

And now? Well now I sit here going through the process of demobilization. I’m a lab rat getting pinched, poked, bled and briefed. It’s a slow process slowed even more by the Thanksgiving holidays. That said I have an infectious smile on my face and for probably the first time in my life I seem to be the most patient person in the room; a quality that I think has endured me to an obviously overworked staff. As others (who I may add were only on 4 and 6 month deployments) jump up and down screaming “hurry up hurry up…” I just wait in lines and say “Take your time - get it right… You see everyday is a gift: No ones shooting at me, I have a certain amount of freedom to travel, I don’t see any sand, and it’s relatively nice outside… I am just happy to be here.” Hmm… So it took all this to finally discover Zen.