Monday, August 07, 2006

My new neighborhood: Freedom Village. It's beeeeyoootiful! Or something.

I had weird dreams last night. I dreamt that I was getting a roommate…and I am afraid it could actually happen today, for real. Right now, I live alone, but they will give me a roommate soon. The living situation is as follows: Each trailer is divided into three separate rooms, each with a door to the outside. The rooms do not connect. Two people occupy each little third of the trailer. So, each trailer houses 6 people. In each little 1/3 room, KBR (Kellogg, Brown, and Root) has placed two twin beds, two little wall lockers, and two bedside tables. If you’re lucky, you will also find two little lamps. If you are REALLY lucky, your lamp will be 220 V and will actually work in the little room. This living situation isn’t too bad (the A/C is kickin’), and it is actually unbelievably superduper if you happen to NOT have a roommate.

I’ve been in my trailer for a few weeks now, and I have yet to be issued a roomy. For a while, I had completely taken over both halves of the room, and I was ever so comfortable. I recon’d a really cool desk from the palace, and I had it in the middle of the room, against the wall with the window, and I had both beds made and half of my junk stowed on the non-roommate’s side of the place. I was so comfy that I even took to referring to my trailer hole as an “apartment”, even boldly calling it a “flat” once or twice. I figured the two previous occupants moved out, and one of the girls must’ve forgotten to sign out at KBR. I thought I might be roommateless and happy for the remainder of my 2.5 months in country.

One day, I walked in to find a horrifying message on the floor of my flat. It was a memo from KBR requesting that both occupants stop by the billeting office to provide information that was missing on our check-in documents. “That note surely spells doom,” I thought. I took the most appropriate action I could think of, which was to ignore the message entirely. I knew they would enquire about my roommate if I went in to see billeting, and I knew I couldn’t lie to them if asked a direct question. I never have had the ability to tell bold-faced lies (white lies, when appropriate, have been applied very strategically at times); just ask my mom. I decided that avoiding the situation would be the best course of action.

Well, I was only able to withstand the pressure of not knowing for a couple of days. On the third day, I went to billeting. I told them I had never seen or met my roommate, but I certainly didn’t know whether or not she actually existed, and they said they’d send someone over to rummage through our things. Anything left on the roommate-in-absentia’s side would be confiscated, and a no-kidding roommate would be assigned. I went back to my shrinking apartment with my tail between my legs to reposition my gear.

I have a complete inability to sleep when somebody else’s face is in the same room, so I knew I had to position things into a more “feng shui” arrangement if I planned on making it through my final 70+ days, so I got right to work. Typically, roommates position the wall lockers in the middle of the room to provide a sort of boundary. Well, our lockers happen to be the teensy, skinny, crappy kind that provide little to no cover and concealment, so I had to find another way to win. I went to the PX to search for appropriate materials with which to build a wall, but there was nothing suitable. I went around to the back of the building where they receive shipments and stuff, and I asked for the biggest cardboard box they had. I got a big one! I also recon’d a 2X4 and brought everything back to my hooch.

I put the lockers in the middle of the room, and I cut the cardboard to fit between them perfectly. I pinned my extra quilt to the 2X4 and hung it between the lockers, in front of the cardboard. I moved all my stuff, and suddenly I had a small-but-livable, and very private, 1/6th of a trailer. I will post pics of it for you as soon as I remember to take some.

Anyway, life, as always, is good. As soon as I get internet access here, it will be even better.

P.S. I forgot to mention these details of trailer life in the above narrative:

-- It is about 100 yds to the nearest toilet.

-- There is a stinky port-a-potty just steps away from my hooch that I can use when “little potty” is required.
-- I feel lucky to have a stinky port-a-potty so near to my hooch.
-- The super-sweet pull up bar that I had outside of my tent is now outside of my trailer, courtesy of a couple of “President Jackson’s” and my Phillipino friends.
-- The shower, too, is about 100 yds away and isn’t too crowded.
-- My friends live just across the street in another trailer park known as Dodge City North.
-- I never thought that I’d live in a trailer…not that there is anything wrong with that. On the contrary, I am starting to really love it.

I am relieved to have my pull up bar just outside my door.

This is my home. My hooch is the one in the far back.

This is my room. Notice the lovely homemade wall on the left.


Anonymous Anonymous said...


What is the big stick in the corner of your 1/6th of a trailer? I would have moved that pull up bar for 40 clams too, heck maybe 20 and some neerbeer.


Thursday, August 10, 2006 7:25:00 AM  
Blogger Nancy said...

Aaaah, but I only paid the 40 clams because those guys don't get paid crap by KBR, so they can really use the cash...

I never told my readers about the hashit?

Thursday, August 10, 2006 8:20:00 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home