Message Center

You know those war movies where a group of soldiers finds themselves ambushed, outnumbered or somehow facing an incredible obstacle, and just before all hope is lost a chopper flies in and rescues the survivors? Well, my day today was a lot like one of those movies.

It started great. We were taken to the LZ (Landing Zone, I think) to board a Blackhawk helicopter. It ended up leaving a half hour later than we planned, but given all my other travel experiences with the military, a half hour late is actually about two hours early. Since we were scheduled to get to two bases today, that half hour meant a lot. We had to cut our Ramadi show back to an hour. We even pre-signed our pictures so that we could get back to the chopper quicker.

But as luck would have it, “weather” canceled all flights to Camp Korean Village. I’m starting to believe that “weather” is very often code for “it’s Sunday, let’s blow this off” or “I don’t feel like it.” Anyway, our second show was canceled. We rushed for nothing. But those things happen. We were then told that a bird will be here to take us back to Baghdad by 1:30 PM.

So fine, we all decide to go have lunch. Ramadi is a remarkably bland place, even by military standards. I thought the soldiers at Balad had it tough, but Ramadi is essentially a truck stop on the way to Baghdad. Even the Ugandan DFAC guards are crankier than their fellow countrymen who are assigned to the other bases.

After a leisurely lunch, we returned to the helipad, and sat in the waiting room. A guy comes out and this time and says our copter will now arrive at 5 PM. We’re devastated. We’d all planned out how we’d use our free afternoon. So fine, whatever. We watch American Gangster on the twenty-year-old television in the doublewide trailer functioning as the waiting room. I noticed that the collection of DVDs were pirated. Someone told me that there are no copyright laws in Iraq. Of all the local customs, this is the one that the military has chosen to adopt.

Five o’clock rolls around, still no Blackhawk. They make some calls and find out that they didn’t “realize” that our second show was cancelled, and just planned on arriving at the time they would’ve, had we gone to Camp Korean Village.

We’re all really losing hope of making it out of Ramadi. We again go to the DFAC, and eat dinner. This time, though, when we returned to the LZ, our Blackhawk did arrive. I could hear the soundtrack from Platoon in my mind as the bird lifted up for the thirty minute flight back to Baghdad, and back to the palace where we’ve been staying for most of the week. The shows are over. We’re tired, but we’re happy. Tomorrow we fly to Kuwait, and then I fly to Chicago for a week at a club, then finally home to San Diego to see my family.

Final thoughts

Thank you all for joining me on my journey. I have done about a half-dozen overseas tours, and this one was by far my richest experience. My main conclusion from this trip, if I should dare one, is that people really don’t know what the military does. Sure, they know they “kill people and break things” as the saying goes. But they also rescue people and build things. I know because I’ve seen it firsthand.

The military isn’t perfect, but it is good. And it was an honor to make everyone who came to see us laugh their asses off.

…
Jeremy Greenberg has written for Geek Monthly, Pregnancy Magazine and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes (Alpha/Penguin). He is the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide (Andrews McMeel). When Jeremy’s not writing, he’s managing the development of his twin, toddler sons, agreeing with his overworked and underappreciated wife, or dodging phone calls from his weird and obnoxious relatives. Learn more at www.relativediscomfort.com

I’ve done about a half-dozen overseas tours, and it’s never failed that at least one show during a tour is a complete nightmare. But up ‘till yesterday, every show had gone so well that I was beginning to fear that I might not have anything to write/complain about on this tour. Well, not to worry: let me tell you about the noontime show at Camp Sather.

For starters, noon shows are rarely great. People just aren’t quite in comedy mode ‘till the sun goes down. That and most attendees are sluggish from having just eaten (and if you’ve ever had lunch at a DFAC you know what I mean). Plus, it’s hard to kick your feet up, if you know that in fifty minutes you have to put them back down and walk back to work.

But we contend with noontime shows frequently. If the fact that the sun’s out is a comedian’s only challenge, the show should still be fun. But yesterday’s show also featured a sound system that was so poor, my entire show sounded like I was a McDonald’s drive-thru employee trying to read the audience back their order. Plus, the venue was in a tent about the size of an airport hangar. Comedians love, small, tight, intimate rooms—it helps with the audience connection. And if it wasn’t hard enough to hear us with all that, there was an air conditioning system in the background that made if feel as if we were saying our jokes into a swamp cooler.

Oh yeah, and an F-16 flew over during the middle of my set as well.

Needless to say, although the audience did have fun, they did so because many of them hadn’t been to a real show stateside in a while, and had no comparison for how bad it was.

But they still had fun. That’s the most important thing. I, however, was so angry at the end of the show I could’ve shot something. And that’s exactly what I did! Our next show was for Special Ops, and when we went to their base, they had a shooting range. I had never even fired so much as a pellet gun. Wow, it was orgasmic! What a rush. After firing the M-4 machine gun, and the M-8 Beretta I felt cleansed and refreshed. I put about six bullets square in the head of my target, and forgot all about the earlier day’s disaster.

We’ve got one more day downrange. Tomorrow we head out in Blackhawks to do shows in both Ramadi and Camp Korean Village.

…
Jeremy Greenberg has written for Geek Monthly, Pregnancy Magazine and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes (Alpha/Penguin). He is the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide (Andrews McMeel). When Jeremy’s not writing, he’s managing the development of his twin, toddler sons, agreeing with his overworked and underappreciated wife, or dodging phone calls from his weird and obnoxious relatives. Learn more at www.relativediscomfort.com

If you’re a civilian, it’s hard to know what a truly “big deal” is in the military. But judging by the expressions on the faces of the soldiers who found out that we were to meet General Odierno, the head honcho over here in Iraq, it was clear that this was a very big deal. At first I didn’t think too much of it. I mean, I’d hung out with Robin Williams, so what’s another famous person?

That attitude quickly changed once our bulletproof GMC Yukon approached the main palace/government building. You know it’s serious when there are Americans guarding the doors, and not Ugandans. (Ugandans are contracted to guard many base facilities such as recreation halls and food courts, and they take their job very seriously. If you do not have orders, you will not be eating.) Once inside we were greeted by the General’s person in charge of VIP entertainers, who told us that General Odierno would be bringing us back in just a minute. We waited excitedly in what was essentially the Bagdad White House. I even sat in a giant chair that Yasser Arafat gave Saddam as a gift. I couldn’t get what the occasion was for the gift being given, but I’ll go out on a limb and say that it was not a Bar Mitzvah present.

And then the General’s guy came back out and said, “General Odierno knows you’re here, but regrets that something came up, and he cannot meet with you. But we would love for you to meet with General Reynes.” Before we had any time to react, we were shaking hands with some guy who was not General Odierno.

I didn’t think it could be possible, but I actually felt bad for this two-star General, only because he had to have known we were a bit disappointed. It’s like hearing that you’re about to meet the President, and then at the last minute someone comes out and says that instead you’ll be shaking hands with the Vice-Chair of the senate Ways and Means Committee.

But after ten seconds, it was clear that General Reynes was an incredibly powerful person in his own right. You can just tell when you meet certain people, their command of a room. I quickly forgot about four star whoever, and was really enjoying our conversation with General Reynes. He seemed to have the charisma and power of a corporate CEO, and he too gave us a coin thanking us for our service. What’s best was he already seemed to know stuff about us (he knew for example, that I was born in New York). I was both honored that he took the time, and horrified to think that someone that powerful had me on their radar screen. I felt like blurting out, “But seriously. I didn’t inhale!”

All in all, the visit was one of the most special events not just of this trip, but in my life. Now my hope is that General Reynes runs for president so that I can say I’ve met the President.
…
Jeremy Greenberg has written for Geek Monthly, Pregnancy Magazine and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes (Alpha/Penguin). He is the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide (Andrews McMeel). When Jeremy’s not writing, he’s managing the development of his twin, toddler sons, agreeing with his overworked and underappreciated wife, or dodging phone calls from his weird and obnoxious relatives. Learn more at www.relativediscomfort.com

If you were to ask my wife or my friends if I have an ego, they’d probably say yes. I’m a good guy, but many comedians have fragile yet inflated egos, and often need that personality trait to be successful on stage. But I learned today that no matter how important I might think I am, it will never compare to Saddam’s view of himself.

He had something like ninety palaces built around Iraq just to celebrate being Saddam. All of them were solely his for spending time with his family, entertaining dignitaries, or ordering the mass murder of innocent people—whatever he felt like doing that day. We visited one called the Victory over Iran/Victory over America Palace. Saddam considered any war in which he wasn’t killed to be a victory. If we had killed every single one of his countrymen, all of his family, and his pet goldfish, but he lived—that would be reason enough for Saddam to build a palace.

I’m not sure if any of you have ever been in a palace. Most people in America have seen mansions. We all know of rich neighborhoods, with big houses. Well, a palace is basically a house the size of a shopping mall. It’s insanely big. I would have no problem if Bill Gates built a palace. He created a company and software and in many ways revolutionized the modern world. But Saddam robbed his people. There were nine pipes that siphoned water into the region from the Tigris River, and all but one of them flow into his personal lakes. Farmers would be starving and their land dying, and Saddam would be swimming in filtered water. It’s not news, but Saddam Hussein was a jerk. We did a good thing by taking him out.

Tonight, following the palace tours we didn’t have a show, but were instead asked to judge a talent show. The main thing I took away from the night’s event is that it’s very hard to be entertaining with an M-16 slung across your back.

It’s tough to laugh at your jokes if I know you can put a bullet in my head. But that’s not say that there weren’t a few funny soldiers, and some very talented singers. I was actually impressed by a few of the entrants. And the ones who were bad we simply made fun of to the delight of the audience.

Fortunately, the show didn’t stretch too long. I can honestly say that I’ve never been this exhausted in my life. When we’re not doing shows we’re on tours, and when we’re not on tours we’re eating. Combine that with the still nagging jet lag and it’s a miracle I’m functioning at all. This actually gives me even more respect for those in active duty who have to fly into their host country and immediately get to work. I’m the walking dead.

Tomorrow we’re going to meet General Odierno, the man who currently runs Iraq—and then we have a show for some top brass. So, I’m going to pray I sleep through the night.

The Victory Over America Palace, or what's left of it

…
Jeremy Greenberg has written for Geek Monthly, Pregnancy Magazine and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes (Alpha/Penguin). He is the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide (Andrews McMeel). When Jeremy’s not writing, he’s managing the development of his twin, toddler sons, agreeing with his overworked and underappreciated wife, or dodging phone calls from his weird and obnoxious relatives. Learn more at www.relativediscomfort.com

Our final day in Balad, we had the great opportunity to tour the MRAP facility. MRAPs are Mine Resistant Ambush Protective Vehicles. They’re perhaps the most bad-ass piece of military equipment I’ve ever seen. Each MRAP weighs about 75,000 pounds each, and are about the length of a Ford Expedition (there are a few different models of MRAP, but that’s an average). By comparison, a fully-loaded eighteen wheeler truck (you know, the really long ones that slowly pull out in front of you when you’re trying to get somewhere) weighs about 80,000 pounds. They even have this thing that sticks out in front of the vehicle, like a long antenna with a plank on it, and it tricks any heat activated explosives into detonating before coming into contact with the vehicle and its crew.

I was so impressed by the technology, design, and thoughtfulness of the MRAP program, that I spent the next twenty-four hours completely in awe of all things military. This organization has the tools and people to do everything perfectly, I thought. That is, until I had to spend five hours at the PAX terminal just to take a thirty minute flight to Bagdad.

For those of you not familiar, the PAX terminal is the base airport. Once you fly though a base airport, you’ll never ever complain about a commercial flight delay ever again. I saw two flights have their leave times changed three times each—and then they both got cancelled! The floor was littered with sleeping soldiers, many of whom had been waiting to hop a flight since the day before. One guy had been at the PAX for three days, and was finally put on our flight. How is it that the same military that can create the F-22 and Bunker Busters runs its airport as if it were a third world nation’s municipal landing strip?

The real killer of this is whole ordeal is that Bagdad is so close that we could’ve driven there in two hours. Which brings me to my proposed PAX solution: open a Rent-an-MRAP facility next to the terminal, so people can drive across the small strip of desert to Bagdad. We’ll get there sooner, and also help to clear any IEDs.

Fortunately, our flight got to Bagdad before the end of the day. We’re staying in one of Saddam’s palaces. It’s cool though, because he hasn’t needed it lately.

…
Jeremy Greenberg has written for Geek Monthly, Pregnancy Magazine and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes (Alpha/Penguin). He is the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide (Andrews McMeel). When Jeremy’s not writing, he’s managing the development of his twin, toddler sons, agreeing with his overworked and underappreciated wife, or dodging phone calls from his weird and obnoxious relatives. Learn more at www.relativediscomfort.com

So much has happened in the past twenty four hours that I’m having trouble deciding which events to share. So I think I’ll give you a quick bulleted rundown of some of the highlights:

Shows 2 and 3: Our shows at MWR East were excellent, but relatively uneventful. Both were well attended, and the audiences were perfect. The coolest thing to report is that the Colonel made me an honorary member of the Tuskegee Airmen, and I’ve got the coin to prove it. I haven’t decided how I’m going to make that work for me once I get home, but I’m thinking about maybe writing a memoir about my struggle for recognition.

Predator Drones: After the show, the Colonel took us out to see the Predator Drones. For those who may not know, these are remotely piloted surveillance planes. They’re very cool, and very expensive. Someone stole the Mangos off of my mother-in-law’s tree in her front yard in San Diego, and I begged the Colonel to send one out to see if we can’t get any intel on who may have done it. He said he’d think about it.

AFN Commercials: After the show, we (the two other comedians and I) went back to on-base housing to watch TV. We quickly realized that no show that we could watch would compare to the entertainment value of the Armed Forces Network’s series of corny PSA commercials. We saw a fifty-five year old man rapping about the importance of registering your vehicle. Then, we saw commercial telling soldiers abroad to go out and see their host countries. I wonder who was worried that military personal wouldn’t naturally take vacation time. It was like seeing a commercial reminding people to eat. That’s just to name a few. The real treat was watching the stiff acting and low production value of these commercials. It’s very clear that budget priority is given to the F-22 program over a poorly scripted, thirty second commercial reminding people that they can’t change their legal state of residence to evade taxes.

Fire Trucks: The base fire department took us out on a fire truck, and let us operate the water hose. When I told my wife about how we got to this, she asked if I tried to write my name in the sand. I was blown away with how much kick the hose had when spraying at full capacity.

We’ve got one more show in Balad, then it’s off to Camp Victory in Baghdad. More good stuff soon!

…
Jeremy Greenberg has written for Geek Monthly, Pregnancy Magazine and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes (Alpha/Penguin). He is the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide (Andrews McMeel). When Jeremy’s not writing, he’s managing the development of his twin, toddler sons, agreeing with his overworked and underappreciated wife, or dodging phone calls from his weird and obnoxious relatives. Learn more at www.relativediscomfort.com

One of the reasons I took this Iraq/Kuwait gig was to see first-hand what’s going on here. Back home, you only know what the media tells you. And that’s all media: liberal, conservative or otherwise. Yesterday we took a tour of the JBB (Joint Base Balad) hospital. And since I know this blog will also be read by people outside of the military, I’m compelled to write an entry that won’t be as humorous as my others, but will highlight one of the amazing things our soldiers are doing here. And I must also add a highly opinionated comment about the concept of “culture.” Thank you for indulging me.

Most of the patients at the hospital are Iraqis, and they’re not there for war-related injuries. A majority were hurt in home accidents. We often don’t hear about how our military serves the surrounding community. But it’s a key part of our military’s service, and it goes beyond simply attempting to win the hearts and minds of the Iraqis. We’re also training the Iraqis to run the hospital themselves, so that when we leave, they can take over running the hospital and continue to provide a high level of service to their people.

Sadly, based on a “cultural” difference, they’re really going to need it. One of the patients was a three-year-old boy who had severe burns covering ninety percent of his body. Why was he burned? Because his parent left a kerosene heater on the floor. The child’s natural curiosity would’ve killed him had it not been for our facility.

As a parent, I know that leaving anything dangerous on the floor is just asking for trouble. Even with a child-proofed home, a kid can still hurt himself. But I was told that this isn’t a fluke case. Many kids come into that hospital with similar injuries caused primarily by the negligence of Iraqi parents. When I asked if these parents will face any legal action, I was told “no,” and that Iraqi’s disregard for their kids’ well-being is actually a “cultural” difference. A cultural difference? Are you kidding? To me, a cultural difference is choosing not to eat pork, or fasting. Child endangerment isn’t a cultural difference, it’s a crime against humanity.

I think that if we’re going to spend all this time saving the lives of Iraqi children, we should also take a more active role in suggesting to the parents what is and isn’t safe for their kids. It was explained to me that the Iraqis (as well as the Kuwaits and many Middle Eastern cultures) have the attitude that, whatever happens is the “will of God.” I know I need to be careful here, because there is something profound and true in that philosophy, for both Western and Eastern cultures. But leaving a dangerous, flammable gas heater within reach of a curious child is not the “will of God.” It is idiocy and negligence. I pray that, as we continue to win the hearts and minds of the Iraqi people, the practice of using “God’s will” as an excuse for bad parenting becomes a thing of the past.
…
Jeremy Greenberg has written for Geek Monthly, Pregnancy Magazine and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes (Alpha/Penguin). He is the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide (Andrews McMeel). When Jeremy’s not writing, he’s managing the development of his twin, toddler sons, agreeing with his overworked and underappreciated wife, or dodging phone calls from his weird and obnoxious relatives. Learn more at www.relativediscomfort.com

Today I learned the definition of adapt and improvise.

While flying on a C130 from Kuwait to the Balad Airbase, I witnessed the soldier next to me urinate into an empty water bottle (well, witness may not be the correct word—let’s restate that as I “noticed”). Now, I want to make sure this blog doesn’t gross anyone out, and remains in good taste. But it was the single most transformational event in my life this week, and it needs to be shared.

To begin with, if you’ve never flown in a C130, I highly recommended it. Imagine a Southwest flight, but instead of seats, there are benches and nets; and instead of being uncomfortable you’re really uncomfortable. The last time I saw organisms packed that tightly together, I was watching a P.E.T.A. commercial about the poultry industry.

There is a latrine on board, but only by the loosest definition of the word. It’s almost inaccessible to female soldiers. If the soldier next to me would’ve attempted to get to it, he would’ve had to climb over everyone in his row, incurring their wrath (or more accurately, being made fun of for not “going” before), and waking up the soldiers who clearly had flown in a C130 before and were able to sleep.

Now, I don’t want to go into the details of how I noticed, as it’s not for polite discourse. But the soldier was very discrete. If I hadn’t had my keen, comedian observational eye roving, I wouldn’t have noticed. Not only was I impressed with how considerate this soldier was to not disturb his teammates, I think this event perfectly illustrates what kind of high skill level it takes to serve the country. Besides the ability to focus to accomplish that task while surrounded by a large group of people (something not many men can do), and the accuracy to have this successful mission with zero collateral damage, you have to have the idea to do that. Never let it be said the military lacks creativity.

Fortunately the flight was only about an hour. When we landed, we were taken to eat in the mess hall where I again forgot to remove my hat, and for the second time someone had to politely tell me to remove it. I then fell asleep and woke up having missed dinner. But I needed the sleep more than the meal. I’m starting to feel a bit rested again. Good thing, we’ve got three shows in the next two days.

McDonalds in Kuwait

…
Jeremy Greenberg has written for Geek Monthly, Pregnancy Magazine and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes (Alpha/Penguin). He is the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide (Andrews McMeel). When Jeremy’s not writing, he’s managing the development of his twin, toddler sons, agreeing with his overworked and underappreciated wife, or dodging phone calls from his weird and obnoxious relatives. Learn more at www.relativediscomfort.com

Today was the most fun I’ve ever had on zero hours of sleep. Yes, zero. I am not exaggerating; the jet lag is really kicking our butts. In fact, when our escort arrived, one of the comedians was dead asleep in his room and had to be phoned. But he was glad we woke him, because what we were about to do would make all the jet lag worth it.

They took us over to Kuwait Naval Base, which basically looks like a failing Nevada strip mall. It was one of the bases that Iraq invaded, and one would think that they simply decided not to rebuild. There’s also an American base within Kuwait Naval Base, Camp Patriot, and that’s where we were headed.

After a quick meet-and-greet with the military leadership, we were taken out on a SeaArk boat. These are basically super fast, powerful speedboats, with big, awesome guns on them. And we got to drive them! After driving us out there and showing us how to go fast and turn, we each took turns pretending that we were off the coast of Miami about to take down some Columbian cocaine dealers.

We returned to dock, and then posed for photos as though we were firing the guns. And I was loving it, until a small creeping internal voice (probably implanted by my wife) asked, “Is it cool to like weapons?”

True, those guns kill people. And I wouldn’t have the same admiration for a bottle of poison. But after thinking about it for a while I came to the conclusion that, “yes” it is perfectly acceptable to love guns. It’s no different than loving a cell phone. It’s a fantastic piece of human-made technology. It’s necessary for securing the safety of innocent people. And, it is totally powerful and awesome. I have the same admiration for guns that I have for a clever new app for my phone.

The final squash of any gun-love guilt came when we visited “The Wall of death.” This is a cement wall where Saddam’s men lined up Kuwaitis and executed them back in the 1990 invasion. The fence is pockmarked with bullet holes. When the sadness strikes you, as you imagine those people being lined up and shot, you stop and ask yourself, “What the hell can stop such brutality?” and then you remember the answer: SeaArk gun boats.

The first show started about an hour later, outside, on a makeshift stage and gathered benches for seating. We had a good turnout and the audience was one of the best I’ve had during a Middle East tour. That may have something to do with the fact that there’s no alcohol on base. It’s amazing how attentive an audience is if they aren’t blind drunk.
Tomorrow is when it really gets rolling. I’ve got to be up at 0500 to go to Iraq, and I’m beyond exhausted. I’m going to be flying in something called a C130.
…
Jeremy Greenberg has written for Geek Monthly, Pregnancy Magazine and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes (Alpha/Penguin). He is the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide (Andrews McMeel). When Jeremy’s not writing, he’s managing the development of his twin, toddler sons, agreeing with his overworked and underappreciated wife, or dodging phone calls from his weird and obnoxious relatives. Learn more at www.relativediscomfort.com

Greetings friend and reader! My name is Jeremy Greenberg, and I am a stand-up comedian and writer. I will be sharing with you my two week journey to Kuwait and Iraq to entertain the troops. These entries will cover any interesting events, observations, or anything else that I think is worth sharing.

Let’s kick this off by asking the following question: What’s the difference between a Spanish couple on vacation, and an airplane full of U.S. soldiers?

To answer, let me bring you up to speed on my travel itinerary to Kuwait. I began by flying from San Diego to Washington Dulles. On that trip I sat next to a Spanish couple who spent most of the five-hour flight alternating between muffled shouting matches, and sessions of gratuitous tongue kissing. If you think it’s uncomfortable sitting next to people engaged in public displays of affection, just try it when it also appears to be part of a fight.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder, the husband pulls out a portable DVD player, and starts to watch a movie with his wife. Now, I make it a point to never glance at what my neighbor is reading or working on. But in this case I couldn’t help it, because the show seemed to be primarily featuring topless naked women running around on a beach. Both the Spanish man and his wife were watching this show with the innocence of a family gathered around the Tube on Sunday night to watch The Simpsons. At least Americans have the decency to be repressed about sex. The Spanish couple was looking at these naked bodies like it was natural.

But the best (or worst) part was when the woman, thick in her accent, began complaining loudly because our part of the cabin was too warm for her liking. It wasn’t an, “Excuse me, can you turn the air on, it’s a bit toasty.” No. It was, “Are you trying to cook us! I was just up at the front and it’s not as hot up there, what’s going on?!.” From my perspective, this seemed very rude.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the flight from D.C. to Kuwait couldn’t have been more civil. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Ninety percent of people getting on the United flight to Kuwait were big, burly soldiers wearing full battle fatigues (I think that’s what they’re called, you know, the camouflage clothes). But it was the most relaxed flight I’d had in quite some time. And talk about polite and considerate: As we were getting ready to deplane, I couldn’t seem to find my San Diego Chargers hat. Two soldiers saw me scouring the ground for it, and immediately crouched down to help me find my hat, which one of them quickly did. We chatted a bit, and it turns out that soldier is a Raiders fans. If you know anything about football, a Raiders fan handing a Chargers fan his hat is the definition of politeness.

So, the answer to the opening question is simply that an airplane full of soldiers actually knows how to be polite. I think civilians can sometimes forget what type of high-character individuals make up our armed forces. Tomorrow I get to return the favor by performing our first show in Kuwait. More then!

…

Jeremy Greenberg has written for Geek Monthly, Pregnancy Magazine and The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Jokes (Alpha/Penguin). He is the author of Relative Discomfort: The Family Survival Guide (Andrews McMeel). When Jeremy’s not writing, he’s managing the development of his twin, toddler sons, agreeing with his overworked and underappreciated wife, or dodging phone calls from his weird and obnoxious relatives. Learn more at www.relativediscomfort.com