My orders to Bahrain had me here until the 20th, with “but it’ll be done probably by the 15th” as a verbal addendum.  This is not me complaining that the investigation is taking longer than initially planned, it is me complaining that the stupid Formula 1 race going on in Bahrain right now has caused my standard of living to plummet, and for this I raise my fist in a very menacing manner and wave it at anyone at all who has ever enjoyed the sport.

When I first got here, despite my repeated requests to stay at the barracks on base - the convenience of being able to walk to and from work late at night, of having a washing machine available to me, and the obviously lower cost - was denied. 

Instead, the Navy graciously put me up in an incredible 5 star hotel.  It was beautiful.  There were 5 fantastic restaurants in it, and my biggest decision (on the days I made it back before they closed at 11) was to decide whether I wanted sushi and sake or filet mignon on grilled polenta.  The king sized bed and down duvet spoiled me.  I merely had to touch a keypad next to my pillow to shut off all the lights at once, where I could also select the “do not disturb” light to be displayed outside my door.  The lighted mirror made my eyebrows look better than ever.  The soft carpeting greeted my tired feet every morning, as I made my way to the lovely bath.  The staff greeted me every morning with friendly smiles and “good mornings” as I walked under the enormous crystal chandelier and down the escalator to the door where more kind “good mornings” greeted me as they held the door and whisked me into the hotel’s new-smelling SUV to shuttle me to the base on their prompt hourly schedule.

And then one day I was at work and got a call that they could no longer allow me to stay there.  My original reservations were up on the 15th and extended to the 21st, and on the 21st the hotel was already booked with the influx of people coming to watch the F1 race.  I called the base lodging facility, and sad as I was to not be pampered at the hotel, I was happy to be able to stay on base with the aforementioned conveniences. Alas, it was not to be.

Instead, they put me up in a different hotel off base.  It was a 4-star hotel, so I figured it would be rather nice, anyway.  When I got to the hotel in the morning (my other hotel regretted my inconvenience and graciously offered to drive me to my new hotel), I thought it was cute.  Kitschy.   Gaudy copper mirror-tiled exterior with worn terra cotta floors and slightly tacky persian rugs.  That was OK, because I’m less spectacular-crystal-chandelier-and-marble and more a gaudy-copper-mirror-tiled kind of gal.  My room was quaint, small with wood floors and velvet curtains, but it got the job done.  I gave a pass to the woman checking me in who seemed to be having One of Those Days with her glares and her curt disposition.

That was in the morning.  When I got home that night, I noticed right away that the staff seemed to be more aloof, with nary a smile in sight.  As I waited for the elevator with the sheer curtains with hundreds of things that looked like fly-fishing flies tied to it, a saxophonist in the lobby played over the already loud chintzy Muzak.  There’s only one instrument that I genuinely dislike, and it’s the saxophone.

I made my way to my room where a small child kept screaming from 2 rooms over, followed by its yelling mother, followed by screaming, followed by its yelling mother.  After eating my room service dinner - some iffy hummus (hammous!) that tasted more like smoked lamb than pureed garbanzo beans - I fell asleep. 

I recognize that I was spoiled by the luxurious king-sized bed at my other hotel, but I promise I am not that spoiled - this bed was awful.  At one point I woke up and my legs from knees down were off the bed.  When I woke up in the morning, I had a backache so bad it made me wish I had Dr. House there so I could borrow some Vicodin.  On top of that, I didn’t realize how nice and quiet the other hotel was until one night at this one: constant doors slamming, loud Muzak all night, conversations were audible, the traffic outside could be heard, plus someone nearby was smoking which I could smell from my room.

I asked for a ride to the base as they offered a shuttle, but they couldn’t tell me when it was going to leave.  I waited for 45 minutes for them to call, and when I called back to inquire when they believed the shuttle would be leaving was greeted with a friendly, “We already told you we will call you!”  The shuttle was laughable in comparison with the other hotel’s: a large, white, diesel van that got you high on the fumes of fuel and cigarettes, with peeling carpeting covering the floor.  What started out as “kitchy” turned into “icky”.

The next 2 nights I downed a handful of Motrin before going to bed to mitigate the pain, and last night I had a glass of wine before bed in the hopes that I would sleep through the assault of the Muzak.

At 5:30am I had this dream where this woman kept screaming, and it was annoying and I couldn’t shut her up.  But she kept screaming.  And screaming.  Until finally my brain worked in such a way as to tell me that I was NOT dreaming, there was someone screaming outside.  I went to the window and peered down the 6 stories into the parking lot where I had the fortune of watching a woman in a red minidress and stiletto heels lose her shit for the next 20 minutes, kicking, screaming, biting, crying, punching, pulling her hair, pulling others’ hair, smacking, shoving, and spitting at anyone who came near her.  Her friends (presumably) finally showed up with their SUV, but I watched as it rocked back and forth while a leg occassionally jutted out from the side, kicking the door back open, or as she inexplicably jumped out to start smacking someone else.  Eventually they wrestled her into the car and peeled off.  It was a lovely start to my day.

Maybe she also didn’t approve of the F1 race being in town.

Still in Bahrain, still working on the investigation, still hoping it’ll be done soon.  Ah, how I love the reviewing/revision process.

Yesterday marked my 12th anniversary in the Navy.  Now I get to wear spiffy gold chevrons, a 3rd service stripe, an extra star on my Good Conduct medal, and I get a wee payraise.  Happy day!

Another fantastic The Week in Pictures is up at MSNBC.com.  It’s amazing how some weeks there is maybe one good picture and other weeks there are numerous.  Does the world stop being remarkable every few weeks?

I have pictures to post but no computer to upload pictures to from my card, and no time to process them even if I did.  But I haven’t forgotten.  Hopefully I’ll be home within a week or so which means I’ll get around to processing the pictures in about 6 months.

It’s how I roll.

This is one more motivation for making Chief:

Now if only the Navy had the same “Ambassador” program as the Air Force so I could someday wear a tiara with a satin sash:

It’s weird to see stuff you’re involved with hitting CNN nearly as it happens.

Navy sub commander relieved of duty after collision

Posted: 01:08 PM ET

By Mike Mount
CNN Senior Pentagon Producer
WASHINGTON (CNN) — The commander of a U.S. Navy submarine that collided with another Navy ship last month has been relieved of duty, according to a U.S. Navy statement issued Tuesday.

U.S. Navy Cmdr. Ryan Brookhart was relieved by his superior officer, who cited a loss of confidence in his ability to command, according to the statement.

Brookhart was in command of the Hartford, a nuclear-powered submarine, when it collided with the USS New Orleans (LPD 18) March 20, in the Strait of Hormuz.

Fifteen sailors aboard the Hartford were slightly hurt in the incident, and both vessels suffered extensive damage, according to U.S. Navy officials.

Hi everyone.  I am still in Bahrain working on this investigation, which is very interesting but also has become tiring - 14 hour days without any days off becomes tiring after…a day.  And it’s obviously been more than a day now. 

I wrote today to give B an update about my travel plans and received a response too good not to share:

Same old here… I am actually baking sugar and chocolate chip cookies for Anja’s class… Yep…and I think I am finally totally converted, I think I am lactating.

Milk and cookies, anyone?

This traveling thing has been very frustrating.  I called our air terminal on base (I’m traveling Space Available, or “Space A”) and called on Monday morning.  The first filght available was supposed to leave on Tuesday.  I called Tuesday morning to confirm and they said that the flight wasn’t coming in until the next day.  Wednesday I called throughout the day to confirm it was on, and the “showtime” for the flight was 9pm.  I called for the last time at about 8:45pm, just before I left my house, to confirm it was still on time.  I got to the terminal and guess what?  Flight was now leaving at midnight.

Finally at about quarter to midnight, one of the crew members met me and explained that they would be stopping off in Souda Bay, Greece, for crew rest - they originated in Washington, DC and had a stop in Lajes and then in Rota before continuing on for the stop in Souda Bay.  And oh yeah, it’s a 6 hour flight so you might want to stop at the vending machine.  The crew guy was a bit short; they hadn’t planned on taking any passengers because the C-130 was packed full of cargo.

Once I got on the plane, it was a lot nicer.  The crew guy was very friendly, and guess where they let me sit?  In the cockpit.  For the whole flight.  And then they stuck headphones on me and offered me a Mexican feast of burritos, enchiladas, and chips and salsa.  As good as that sounded, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome by smoking out the cockpit, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. 

One of the crew members said I could sit at the controls and “fly” but after the dropped-and-cracked iPod, shattered candy dish, smashed glass pepper grinder, spilled coffee, and dropped can of soda from this week, I told him they may not want me anywhere near any controls on that plane.

After the Chief Engineer explained the GPS system, the maps, the radars, and the seat belt, I was exhausted and slept for about 4 hours straight laid out in the cockpit.  I think that just took over as The Most Unusual Place I’ve Ever Slept.