Got Jumper Cables?

The day finally came. This is what I had been waiting for from the day I started those missions; the day we would start bringing those soldiers home. It felt odd to us to deadhead over to Rome and then fly a huge empty MD11 the 10 hours down to Kuwait. We were excited.

The advance crew arrived and started loading cargo and equipment on board in a reverse operation of the arrival process. Finally some buses pulled up and that was our signal to fire up the engines and begin our preparations for departure. That’s when I learned the true meaning of the term SNAFU from the Military origin.

Plane wouldn’t start.

What????

Can’t get her to turn over.

Maybe you flooded it? Wait a minute and try again.

Our mechanics and technicians that we brought on board with us as part of the team for our mission for just this sort of situation got to work.

Nope, battery was dead.

Four large buses had to turn around and drive back into the desert. Our hearts were broken for those troops. Turns out batteries for the older MD11 weren’t just available everywhere and there wasn’t a NAPA plane parts down the street in Kuwait City next to that Starbucks so we were out of luck. They finally found one in Frankfurt. Probably could get it there tomorrow.

So for those of you wondering what a dead aircraft battery looks like, it looks amazingly similar to a dead car battery:

Due to the local situation, tourism had not really been a thing in the area during that time period so hotel options were sparse and security considerations were many. The decision was finally made to secure the aircraft and the crew at the hotel at the airport (I mean AT the airport) for the night. None of us had anything with us for an overnight stay, so the General on base kindly sent over some SUVs and escorted us into the airport to the duty free shop (that amused me) where we could pick up essentials. He was enormously kind and quite gracious about our embarrassment.

Walking in the airport was unnerving. The few women we saw were in full Burkas, while we wore skirts. I felt so disrespectful. When we trained we were advised to wear pants, but we had gotten slack about that since we never left the aircraft and it was so hot over there. I wished I had taken a blanket from the plane to wrap around my legs. We scuttled in and out quickly. For those of you keeping count, this was the second time in my career I had deeply regretted wearing a skirt.

When we got to the hotel, the first thing we had to do was put our things through a scanner like you do in security screening. I was thinking they were checking for weapons but was told they check to see if you are trying to smuggle in alcohol.

Things were different in the lobby. There was a hookah lounge. Nope, we’re not in Kansas. We just took it all in and accepted their very kind hospitality. They said they would open the restaurant for us. We appeared to be the only ones there. Of course, given what had been going on, there weren’t lots of folks traveling for pleasure through this airport at that time. We agreed to meet back downstairs to eat in an hour.

The room was… minimalist. It was clean. I knew to be grateful. Well here, this is it:

I strolled over to take a look at my view (which cautioned me with a bold sticker to not take pictures) and there she was, Dad had parked the car right outside just like when we were kids at the Holiday Inn!

There were some nice men keeping her company and watching our wing of the hotel:

Gee I felt good. I stepped out in the hall to find my exits and found this intriguing sign:

I learned that was the warning sign for the gathering place in case of a chemical attack. Well now you learn something new every day, and I felt better knowing my room was directly across the hall from that. Oh yes I did. And then what? You circle the drain from there????

So after cleaning up as best I could, I headed downstairs to meet the rest of the crew. The menu was limited but we were hungry and placed our orders. The food arrived and everyone dove in. Chewing, chewing and oh my goodness chewing.

Finally someone said it: “Tastes like camel!”

Everything tasted like camel. I’m a vegetarian and mine was chewy like camel jerky. We dissolved in fits of laughter and enjoyed our water (wishing heartily it would change into wine) and then returned to our rooms. Only pure exhaustion allowed us to sleep that night and we awoke to a new day and hopes of a new MD11 battery.