.. ... and he was sinking just as surely as his boat. No matter how powerfully he moved his arms and legs back and forth the bottom loomed closer and ...he surface rose further away. He was sinking and he couldn't understand why. He was not caught in a whirlpool, there were no weights in his pocket. Hell, the only clothes he had on were a frayed pair of cutoff shorts. It was like the water had become unable to support his weight. He moved his arms and legs back and forth in powerful strokes and. I pulled on a pair of garden gloves I'd swiped form the garage on my way out, and put the key in the lock. It turned, with a bit of difficulty, and I opened the door. The light from the second bedroom, my "lab," was the only light in the place. All my blinds had been drawn for the night, and they were quite good at keeping light out.I made my way down the hall, the feeling of surrealness made my flesh crawl. It was my apartment, but it wasn't quite right. Everything was at a weird angle, things. They had an antiquated hookah on the coffee table inspiring my hopes for a jovial afternoon.They all three seemed depressed. I don't know if it was a lack of sex or gossip or their own impending doom. Plus their treasured yard sales were temporarily verboten. But I was here to boost morale and heart rate.I felt momentarily guilty attempting to extract cash from these living-on-a-fixed income ladies. The thought left me feeling as slimy as a slice of Oscar Mayer baloney but I quickly got over. They all went in not understanding the region, not understanding the various mixes of cultures and religions, some of which coexisted very poorly together, then expected an easy transition to a functional democracy. It was almost laughable the way they were all surprised when everything went to shit ... or it would have been, if it hadn’t gotten so many American servicemen killed.Still, the State Department—or at least the upper levels of it, which existed solely to communicate, and insure US.
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