Selma? Memphis?

      We’ve been cooped up (mostly) in Huntsville, Alabama for the better part of two years. I had a two month trip to Thailand and Cambodia planned, but that was in March, 2020. That obviously didn’t happen. I’ve managed to mask up and sneak away a few times, a few times to Santa Barbara to see my parents, once to DC for a work gig, then to Balad, Iraq for another work gig. Gwyne came with me to DC and then took a trip to Santa Cruz with her sister and mother. But it’s been mostly Huntsville and COVID, Huntsville and Delta COVID and now Huntsville and Omnicron COVID. We’re tired of this shit. I know everyone else is too. So when Gwyne blurted out of the blue, “Let’s go somewhere.” I said, “Sure, where do you want to go?” She didn’t know and I suggested Selma, AL because we both love history and I’ve been meaning to go there. But we looked at the weather and it said it was going to rain, rain, rain. She threw out Memphis as an idea. I looked at the weather forecast there and saw what appeared to be a decent window and checked things to do. I found a lovely 6 block walking tour of historical architecture and businesses downtown. Gwyne likes eating out, so I asked her to find an authentic BBQ joint because well, Memphis. The hotels downtown were $300 a night, so we made a reservation across the Mississippi River in Arkansas. And the next morning, we were off. On the drive there, we saw a sign that said Historic Courtland and we quickly veered left. We’re curious and had the time, so why not? It was a relatively quick drive through what may have once been historic, but turned out to be a town with broken down trailers (that still seemed to host human occupants) and shuttered store fronts. 

Courtland, Alabama

I said, “This is a dying town.” Gwyne replied, “This town’s not dying, it’s dead.”

     Onward to Memphis then! It’s about a 3 1/2 hour drive from Huntsville to Memphis, we’d be getting there at lunch time. Gwyne thought it would be fun to go a place featured in Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives so we plugged in the address for Leonards Pit Barbecue and took off. I have Siri set to an Indian woman’s voice, and she pronounced Leonards as Leo naards. It sounded so much more sophisticated. I thought we’d pick up some BBQ and take it down to a park and have a leisurely lunch on the banks of the mighty Mississippi. When we got there, the restaurant looked much more like Leonards then a Leo naards and while we were waiting for our food, they told us there was a Bowl game today and downtown was going to be crazy, so we might want to avoid going down there after the game. We took off for the park and as soon as we got there, the wind and rain came, 6 hours earlier than predicted. We could barely see the river but found a table under a patio and shivered as we noshed. The food, unfortunately, did not warm up our spirits or live up to Guy Fieri’s billing. I suggested going to the hotel to see if we could check in early, so we drove there (only getting lost once) through the driving rain. Oh, btw, neither Gwyne nor I enjoy driving. At all. I am a nervous driver. I drive the speed limit with cruise control (okay, sometimes 2 miles over the speed limit when I’m feeling a little feisty) and you can fairly hear drivers behind us yelling, “MOVE IT GRANDPA!” Gwyne is a short, distracted Asian woman. On the way back, I yawned and she asked if I wanted her to drive. I quickly said, “Oh God no.” We both laughed and laughed. I waited in the car while Gwyne went in to check on the room. She came back and said, “Do you want to hear the bad news or the bad news?” I paused and said, “Give me the bad news first.” Says Gwyne, “The hotel was completely booked last night and it’s completely booked tonight. No early check in AND there’s no secure place to store our bags while we wait. There’s a Bowl game tonight.” Right. There’s that darn Bowl game again. I’m not interested in American football at all so I just didn’t think to check on that. We thought we’d hang in the lobby of the hotel and see if there was anything edible left from the lunch. There wasn’t and we ended up throwing the rest away. Neither of us are particularly good at waiting around doing nothing, so we decided to go to the casino across the street for amusement purposes. Spoiler alert: it was not amusing. I enjoy gambling, but only for small sums of money when the odds are overwhelmingly in my favor. The clientele inside, based on their walkers, canes and attire did not appear to have tremendous amounts of disposable income to fritter away. After less than 10 minutes, we went back to the hotel lobby and maybe due to Gwyne’s Hilton Diamond Member status, a room had been found for us early. We checked in and I raised the blinds. What a lovely view!

     So we chuckled about our mishaps, after all the planning had been mostly good, but the execution sucked. So far. 

     The next day we nibbled on the substandard hotel provided breakfast and went downtown for the historical walking tour, which was inexpertly guided by me. I was reading from a script I pulled off the internet and missed a few buildings. But it was a great experience. I think the highlight was the Lorraine hotel, where MLK was assassinated. Historical events. It takes my breath away when I’m right there, where it happened. The Civil Rights Museum wasn’t open, but they had some self paced videos outside of the hotel. Then we completed the rest of my inexpertly guided tour, took a walk along the Mississippi and then back to the hotel to check out. 

 

     The second day made up for the first day’s repeated follies. And when trips are relatively unplanned, you have to accept and be ready to laugh about a few unexpected twists, turns, shimmies and shakes. And speaking of unplanned trips, the 2020 jaunt to Thailand and Cambodia is probably on again. I say probably because I have tickets, reservations, vaccinations - I’ve jumped through every hoop to get approved for entry through the Thailand Pass system (which has since been suspended for new applicants) but I think with travel cancellations and COVID variants, I’ve got about a 50 - 50 chance to get on that plane in early February. Any international travel right now will be fluid, but if it happens, I’m hoping for more of a Leo naard experience than Leonards. I’ll probably get a healthy dose of both.

Flying

     Travel is different these days. There are just so many variables, and the potential to have something else to throw a spanner in the works is always in the back of my mind when I'm on the road. Working on an Iraqi base adds a few extra twists and gyrations to the unknown unknowns. The company has their own plane that flies between Erbil and Balad, but was dependent on the Iraq government giving overflight rights to fly. Between late June and August something-th, there were 47 days those rascally Iraqis didn’t allow that flight, so everyone was stuck there. There were a few ways to get off base, and none of them were good. The easiest was a MEDEVAC flight and was usually COVID positive related that required the need to seek a higher level of medical care. I can’t go into details or outcomes on those trips, but can say that finding a COVID bed - anywhere in the world - was really difficult during that timeframe. You could also get a humanitarian flight if a close relative had died or was severely ill. Those ‘specials’ were coordinated through the US Embassy in Baghdad. And then, for some unknown reason, the Iraqis decided to lift their fatwa on overflight rights and the plane started to fly again, so I hopped on one. Going to Erbil was fairly straight forward, and I spent a few days there tooling around, visiting the Citadel and enjoying the 0400 call to prayer. Mosques always seem to be right next to the hotels frequented by the frugal. 

    I’m not a fan of having a swab stuck so far up my nose I can feel it in the back of my eye, but if you want to get on a plane to go somewhere interesting, that's what you have to do. For the record, I’ve had both the J&J jab and two doses of the Pfizer and religiously wore a mask. There was a lot of COVID on the base, both from the Iraqis that we were sending home to self isolate and the multinationals who tested positive and just had to quarantine in their quarters unless things took a turn for the worse. You can be asymptomatic and still be positive, so because I was fairly swimming in a pool of mostly unvaccinated people, it was a great relief to get that negative PCR test that allowed me to fly to Turkey. I wanted to lay over in Istanbul for one day so I could take a more leisurely trip back to the U.S. Didn’t exactly work out that way, and I’m still not sure why, but here’s what happened. 

    I showed up at the airport 3 hours early to check in. I’ve done a lot of traveling and spent more than few hours on long haul flights. I don’t have an explanation for it, but I’ve turned into kind of a nervous traveler. Maybe it’s because shit like this keeps on happening. Checking in, Turkish Airlines says there’s no record of my reservation. I’m not on the flight that I bought and paid for through United. I even made a seat selection on the Turkish Airlines website using their record locator prior to heading to the airport, but was told I didn’t exist. I was dead to them. Alan who? Last name Taylor? No, accompanied by a shake of the head from west to east. Passport number? Not there. Record Locator? Still no. Are there any seats available on this flight from Istanbul to Brussels so I can make my connecting flight? No, which seemed to be the most popular answer that morning. The original ‘oh shit’ response shifted to ‘oh well’ as I tried to figure out what to do. I’m at the airport and can’t make my connecting flight. My PCR test is good for today only and I don't want to spend a day in Istanbul trying to suss out where to get another one. Because I’m married to the Star Alliance network, I ask Turkish Airlines where else they are flying in the U.S. that day and they tell me they have a flight to Houston at 1405. It was about zero dark thirty in the morning when we were having this little chit chat. I quickly cancelled my connecting flight in Brussels, whipped out my credit card and bought a seat to Houston (where I didn’t really want to go). They let me check in about 8 hours early, so I whiled away the hours in the lounge and noshed on some Turkish delicacies. It turned out to be a 5 movie flight straight to Houston and I flew back to Huntsville the next day. 

    The reason for the flight? That’s another story. I was in Balad and got an email from a headhunter asking if I’d be interested in another position. A good friend of mine said when someone wants to make you an offer, you should always listen. So I did. I went through three rounds of interviews and got the answers to most of my questions. Job? HR Manager. Location? Kuwait. Also they need help hiring Marshallese in Kwajalein. Do you know anything about how to do that? Why yes, in fact I do. So I packed my mental bags. Gwyne was happy as well. We lived in Kuwait before and really enjoyed it. She couldn’t come and visit Iraq, but she is more than ready to hang out in Kuwait again for a while. One more question - where in Kuwait is the job physically located? It’s out at Arifjan. For those not familiar with Kuwait, Camp Arifjan is about a 40 minute drive from Fintas or Fahaheel, where most contractors typically live. I’ve done that unpleasant drive and sat through the uncomfortable security so very many times and just didn't want to do it again, so I turned it down. But those bags in my head, well, they had already been packed. A more comfortable life, planes that are actually able to fly, good medical care and Gwyne. And not necessarily in that order (good catch there, eh?) That's why I'm back in Huntsville. I'll still do some remote work, but it will be when I want. This way, I'm still keeping my status as a 4 time loser in the retirement game. It would be flat out embarrassing to be a 5 time loser.  

    

Stores and my work wife

     There are some differences between this gig and others I've worked in the Middle East. The most notable is this is a U.S. contract, but on an Iraq Air base. There are few things missing. Like a PX/BX. At those little stores on U.S. bases, shipping is subsidized, some of the products are manufactured for and labeled 'exchange select' and the profits from the store go into the Morale Welfare and Recreation fund of the base. There are two Iraqi stores here, one that sells things you would expect a convenience store to sell, and the other establishment that sells some electronics, shoes, knick knacks and paddy whacks. You might find a geegaw or so as well. They literally have a captive group of consumers. Need some shampoo? Toothpaste? Deodorant? You have one store, one option, and at the price they set. This was all made clear to me before I hopped on my first delayed flight, so I knew what to expect and was fairly adequately provisioned. 

Lacking in curb appeal and price controls...

     There is one other option to get what you want/need and that is the proverbial mule. I hopped on my bike one morning and started to pedal away only to find I had a puncture. The bike I bought at the geegaw store is so cheap, the wheels do not have a quick release skewer, they are attached with an archaic nut and bolt.

This is NOT a real Fuji

It's not far to work, so I walked, sweated and plotted how I'd get my hands on an adjustable wrench. The Automotive shop, staffed mainly by Iraqi's, eagerly offered to repair my flat tire, but I explained to them this is a government contract that didn't allow personal work to be done during hours billed to the USG. I told them all I needed was an adjustable wrench, which they had never heard of. I switched things up. I told them I needed a spanner. They got that, then asked what size I needed - 10 mm? 12 mm? I didn't know. Then I pantomimed the spanner moving. They understood that. "Ohhhh, you mean an English wrench!" Okay, call it what you want. Back to the mule. If you need anything as exotic as an English wrench to help repair future punctures, you have to contact people who are on the way in, perhaps someone you have recently hired, and ask them to buy and put something in their 30kg weight allowance luggage. Then they mule it in for you. When the plane flies again someday.

    But the thing I miss the most here is the work wife that I had in Afghanistan and Kuwait. A work wife/husband is someone of the opposite (or same) sex with whom you have a close platonic relationship at work. Gwyne knew all about this relationship, I disclosed everything. I’m lucky she’s so understanding. My work wife was something else. Need something? Anything at all? Just ask and she’d get it for you. She was super efficient. I’d just be going about my workaday business and she’d suggest something I might be interested in. Chances were, I was. Just like Gwyne, she gets me. She also really liked how frequently and deftly I use my index finger. I know this because just as soon as I was finished, right after that last touch, she always quickly expressed her appreciation. When I found out my work wife wouldn't be at this assignment, I'm certain my eyes moistened, because I'm a very sentimental person. There is no APO (Army Post Office) here because you only find those on U.S. bases. Which means no work wife for me. Oh Amazon, sweet, sweet Amazon Prime. My work wife. I miss you so much. But I'm going to hook up with you when I get back, k?

    

ETD-ETA-UNK

      Everyone was stuck somewhere in 2020 and many were/are stranded somewhere in 2021 as well. I was talking to Gwyne the other day and she was asking what my plans were for my first leave and I said, “Completely unknown.” And they are. I’m in Iraq and everything changes every day. Everything. We have people stuck in India and Nepal. The Philippines won’t let their citizens travel to Iraq. They can leave Iraq to go to the Philippines, but they can’t come back here to work. But President Duterte will fix things. In a televised address he said, “You choose, vaccine or I will have you jailed.”  No, really, he said that. https://www.reuters.com/world/asia-pacific/philippines-duterte-threatens-those-who-refuse-covid-19-vaccine-with-jail-2021-06-21/  Dubai opened to Indians and Sri Lankans who were fully vaccinated. Then they shut down a week later. South Africa just went down into a Level 4 lockdown. The South Africans are rushing to get back before we don’t have any flights from Erbil to Balad for nobody knows how long. Yeah, that happens too. No flights in or out. Sydney locked down again. Bangkok locked down construction camps. The Delta variant is rampant in India. And the Delta plus variant is spreading as well. So those travel plans? They’re stuck in a holding pattern. 

     And that’s okay. After working in Afghanistan, 7 days a week, 12 hours a day, my schedule here is a rather luxurious 6 days a week and a mere 10 hours a day, which always seem to fly by. What to do on that day off? Well, it’s still a bit warm outside,

so I try to move from one temperature controlled location to the next, typically my ice cold CHU to the DFAC and back. I get a nap in, if I can. I stop in at the only convenience store on base to see if they can extort a few more dinars out of me. Spoiler alert: they’re usually successful. I bought a bike there last week and on the third day or riding my (not so) trusty steed, the seat stem bent. I guess it couldn’t handle my 160 lbs of solid dad bod. No matter, another seat stem was miraculously fabricated the same day. Some wasta helped with that.  

     Because of the ever changing nature of being here, the work is super interesting. They asked me to get an Iraqi cell today, even though I have VoIP phones with the same number in my office and CHU, a radio and my own cell. I’m pretty reachable. But okay. So they deliver it and I ask what the phone number is. Oh, you have to get a SIM with minutes on it, put in a service order. Again, okay. Then Mohammed calls. He wants to know what service provider I want with my minutes. I have no clue, so I say, “I’m going to make this Mohammed’s choice. You choose. Whatever provider you give me, I’ll be happy with.” He was briefly flummoxed, but then suggested the provider that most managers go with. “Excellent choice, Mohammed, thank you so much!” No reason we can’t have fun here. 

     Another thing I found out is that every time you come into country, you have to get a blood stamp. They draw blood, check for HIV and Hepatitis, then you get that literal stamp in your passport. Unless. Unless you are over 50 if you are female and over 60 if male. I guess they think that shop has closed up for us elderly folk. And stop. Get that image out of your heads.

     Then there are the people. As anyone who has done time (and I use that term intentionally) in the sandbox can attest, some of the people are pretty darn interesting. I won’t delve into the usual and very predictable cast of colorful characters who have been contracting forever, I just want to say the the HR team here is filled with some superstars. Interesting. Educated. Well traveled. Some with a wry and sly sense of humor, all of which is very much appreciated by me. 

     And there we are. No itinerary. Not taking off. No landings in sight. Anticipating more than a little turbulence. And except for Syed and Kuldeep…still smiling. 

Worst trip ever and my bloody office

      I got on a plane again, and I wasn’t particularly happy with my route or carrier(s), but someone else was paying, so I didn’t have a voice, except the one inside my head, begging them to put me on another flight. I had to fly American from Huntsville to Chicago (oof). I deleted the American app from my phone a few years ago, certain that I’d never fly them again. I’m married to the Star Alliance program and American and Star Alliance? Well, they’re currently not talking to each other. So it was painful. What is the lowest possible boarding group you can be in? Go ahead, take a guess. This is what I heard: Military members, you are welcome to board, Families traveling with young children or those needing assistance, you are welcome to board. Group 1, you are welcome to board. Group 2, you are welcome to board. Group 3 you are welcome to board. Group 4 you are welcome to board. Group 5 you are welcome to board. (Getting bored of this yet?) Group 6 you are welcome to board. Group 7 you are welcome to board and Group 8, you are welcome to board. That was me, group 8. The humiliation. This was just the beginning of the first delayed flight and it got way worse from there, turning what was supposed to be a mere 20 hour trip into a 4 day expedition, filled with follies and fuck ups at every possible fork in the air. 

     But I finally got to my destination, and without disclosing specifics, here’s the background: a project in the Middle East with 2000+ employees, 33 different nationalities, which, in my twisted mind, translates to a whole lot of fun. My accommodations? The holy grail of billets in the Middle East: a wet CHU. For those not familiar with the nomenclature, CHU is an acronym for Containerized Housing Unit and wet, ahh, that’s where the holy grail part comes in. A wet CHU has a shower, sink and toilet inside the CHU. When I was being taken to my quarters, my colleague said, “And your hooch is wet. You may have to share with the person next door…” I had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I thought I had made a terrible mistake. I’m too old for *ahem* that shit, so to speak. To my immense relief, when I opened the door to the bathing facilities, there was no connecting door. The knots in my stomach were immediately untwisted and I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was going to be okay. The CHU is nicely kitted out as well with refrigerator, microwave, TV with a bazillion channels, WiFi, ice cold ac for the stifling hot summer and heated for the surprisingly cold winters. I have a great team and an embarrassingly large office. I had a meeting with a couple of South African guys and when they walked in, one of them said (and it’s best to imagine this in a South African accent), “Now this! This is a bloody office!”

My bloody office 

     Those with memories better than mine may recall this was my fourth attempt at retirement. I’ve been working at home sporadically, which technically qualifies as a fail, but this gig really vaults me firmly into the fourth time loser category. When I was interviewing for the job, the first level director asked me why I was interested in going overseas again. I said, “The pandemic. This whole year. I’ve just been bored.” I always believe in brutal honesty, it’s important for them to know who they may be potentially hiring. The boredom has officially ended. 

     And hey, shout out to my dad, who is a fantastic human being, all the other dads, the moms and moms raising kids, and all of the single moms pulling double duty. Because raising kids is NEVER boring. 

 

 

2020 and on...

2020 started out innocuously enough. I left my temporary work gig on Kwajalein in early January, came back to Huntsville and promptly flew out to Maui to visit my brother and daughter, ‘cause I work the mileage game ruthlessly. There were some jokes about Corona virus back then and maybe a nagging thought in the back of our lizard brains that it might be coming to the U.S. I took a trip to see my parents in February, again banking miles. We talked about the virus in Italy, and speculated that it could already be in the U.S. Then came March. I had a trip planned to Thailand and Malaysia and cancelled it at the.very.last.moment. And then. And then the world came crashing down. It was in the U.S. It was almost everywhere. A few countries (all island nations) shut down their borders hard and had zero reported cases of COVID-19. They are: Federated States of Micronesia, Republic of the Marshall Islands, Vanuatu, Tokelau, Niue, Republic of Palau, Nauru, Kiribati, The Cook Islands and American Samoa. North Korea and Turkmenistan have reported zero cases of COVID-19, but I’m pretty sure they’re fibbing.

2020, and the beginning of 2021 has sucked for everyone. We were all locked down for a while, some harder than others. In the Philippines, since March 2020 and until today, children under the age of 15 have been required to remain in their residences at all times. Cock fighting pits are open though, per the Economist. Priorities. 

We all got used to Zoom. When the person chairing the meeting asks, "Does anyone else have any questions?" The correct answer is "No". These became familiar phrases: You’re on mute. You’re still on mute. We can’t hear you. Can you unmute yourself? Or, you know you’re not on mute, right? And the most horrifying: Do you know your camera is on? Talking to you there, Jeffrey Toobin.

Everyone’s mental health has suffered, to varying degrees. We all knew remote learning is a poor substitute for in person class, no one needed to go through the experience to prove that point, yet so many teachers and students had to suffer through it all.

We’ve all binge watched something. Thanks to Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime and other platforms for cranking out some great shows and some unbelievably trashy stuff to while away the days, months and nearly a year at this point. I couldn’t make it through Tiger King, but 90 Day Fiancé amused me endlessly. Fun fact - Netflix is unavailable in only three countries and one ‘area’ - China, North Korea, Syria and Crimea. 

People lost jobs. Others lost businesses. Many lost friends and family members. And here we are, nearly a year into this tragedy that the U.S. has so magnificently bungled.

You’ve either been locked down by yourself or with your family. I heard on a podcast that if you’ve been by yourself, you’ve longed for someone to be locked down with and if you’ve been with your family, you have fantasized about being by yourself. More than once, Gwyne and I have played the game of, “Why do you do it like that?” Hint. There are no winners in this game. 

Then there’s the separation. Grandparents, parents, children, grand children, brothers, friends, well you get the idea. People haven’t been able to be in person with their people. To touch them. To hug them. Touch is important, and that’s something we’ve all been deprived of, in one way or another. 

Masks. We’re all wearing them. Who thought masks could be such a conversation starter? Where did you get that mask? Nice mask! Ooof. I forgot my mask. Here’s my favorite. Thanks Andrea!

There’s also going to be some horrifying knock on effects. 45 states and DC have balanced budget requirements. Every state has lost tax revenues from businesses being shut down - all the restaurants, hotels and car rentals, to mention but a few, well, they all generate taxes that pay the salaries of police, firefighters, public transit workers and teachers. There is going to be a shortfall when it comes time for planning and submitting an annual budget. Without federal aid there will be massive cuts. How about the rent moratorium? Rent has been paused. It's been adding up, month after month, after month. How are folks going to pay the enormous sums due when it comes time to pay?

I’ve lived through the 60’s, the 70’s the 80’s the 90’s, the noughties, the teens and January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November and December of 2020. Every damn month of 2020, some of which seemed like an effin decade. Let’s throw in January and February of 2021 as well, why not?

But there is hope on the horizon. Spring is coming. It’s my favorite season. I love the sensation of rebirth and rejuvenation. The days (if you live in North America) are getting longer. It is (thankfully) warming up and I can put on a pair of shorts and get on my bike again. There are tiny buds on Maple trees. I saw a dandelion the other day.

The number of new infections, hospitalizations are trending down in the U.S. and worldwide. There are vaccines available to some demographics, with more availability to come in the near future.  I was one of 45,000 that participated in the Johnson & Johnson phase 3 trial of their vaccine. I don’t know whether I received a shot of salt water or the vaccine. If it’s approved next week, the study provider will unblind me. If I got the saline, they’ll cross me over and give me the goods. Sometime later this year, I think there’s going to be a semblance of normalcy. 

The other day, I put my big toe outside our front door, testing the weather to see if it was tolerable enough for another boring walk. It was, so I peeked out just a little more and saw this.

I sent that to my family and my brother just said, "It's a new day." That's how I've been feeling the last few weeks. Every day, closer whatever the new normal is going to be. Every day, one step closer to visiting friends, going to a restaurant and unfettered travel. Hang in there folks, we're getting there. 

Sizes

     Clothing sizes are funny. How we think about them are even funnier. 

    Act 1: Way back in once upon a time time, my wife, daughter and her friend were tooling around SE Asia on holiday. At the time, I was working as a teacher in Saipan and men in Micronesia don't wear shorts except to go fishing or work on the farm. Long pants (w/zori) were de rigueur for pretty much any other situation. We were in Kota Bharu, Malaysia and I went into a department store to see if I could get a good deal on a pair of slacks, taking advantage of the currency exchange. I found a pair that struck my fancy and wanted to try them on. They were sized S, M, L and XL. Because I'm not a particularly large fellow, I took the M into the changing room. Oof. Not even close. Okay, I thought, let's move up to the L size. Again, oof. I'm 5'10" and weigh in at 158 today. I was a few pounds lighter way back then. L's were too tight. The XL's were a fit, and that's what I wound up walking out of the store with. That and a bit of wounded pride.  

    Act 2: Fast forward more than a few years, I was in Bangkok getting a few suits made. My tailor took my measurements and read them off. When he said, "Waist, 33 inches," I said, "Hold on, I'm a 32." He replied, "You know the numbers on clothing made for Westerners aren't accurate. When you measure the actual waistband, it's actually 1 - 2" longer than the number. Oof again. What size we are is all in our heads. I was getting trousers that were a 33". But hang on there, I'm not a 33, damn it, I'm a 32" waist. Because it was a bespoke suit, the number - that was just one more than the number in my head (where I sometimes live), wasn't included anywhere on the pants. That took away some of the sting.

    Act 3: Another time I was in Bangkok, I saw leggings for sale outside the Skytrain. Those pinkish leggings say XXXL. We currently live in Alabama. We do have XXXL citizens in Alabama but none of them could fit into Thai XXXL leggings. 

    Act 4: Sizes. They're funny things. And again, how we think of them are funnier. When I was in Kwajalein last year, I bought a grey, fleece like hoodie off Amazon to keep me warm in my well chilled room. I got a medium. I was FaceTiming Celine one day (whilst wearing the hoodie) and she quickly said, with obvious displeasure, "What is that you're wearing? You look ridiculous!" The medium was short and tight. It did not fit well, but it kept me warm. I told her I don't wear it outside my room and she seemed somewhat relieved. But I had a trip planned to Maui and the very next day, she FaceTimed me again. From Costco. She was showing me two light jackets, one in blue, one in black and said, "I'd like to get one of these for you. Which color would you like? I'll get you a large." It was clear. Come to Maui. I'll have a jacket for you. Leave the hideous, tight fitting grey thing behind. Please. I know people here. 

    Grand finale: Celine just moved to Huntsville. Before she came here, she asked me if there was anything I'd like from Honolua. I said, "Yeah, maybe a hoodie. Something warm and cozy." She sent me a few texts of choices. I made mine, she bought it and didn't ask me about the size. She wore it on the flights she took from Maui and yesterday, when it was chilly, I said, "Hey, where's that hoodie? It's cold!" She had just washed and dried it and it was so delightfully warm. And cozy. Just like I asked. And it's a large. Some larges are larger than others. And longer. This goes to mid thigh. I think it looks just as ridiculous as the tight fitting medium. But thank you for the kind gesture and here's to the next chapter in your life.

    Bonus fact 'o the day for getting to the end of this silliness and total non-sequitur: The first U.S. Vice President of color is NOT Kamala Harris. It was Charles Curtis. He was Herbert Hoover's VP and was a biracial Native American, a member of the Kaw Nation.