International Language

I have heard that a smile is supposed to be an international way to show friendship. I’m not so sure about all that, but I do know that food is a way of showing acceptance everywhere. It is very important for our troops out here to eat with the Iraqis they interact with even though it often results in the runs. Women going through the line at the DFAC often get larger portions even when they do not ask for them while some men grumble that they cannot get two chicken cordon blues (a very popular dish) even when they ask for them.

I am a creature of habit when it comes to food. Every morning I get the same thing: I go through the sandwich line which is a 24 hour operation and get a sandwich with mayonnaise, mustard, lettuce, tomato, onion, and pickle. I then go to the omelet line and get a cheese omelet to put on my sandwich. I’ve done this every day since I got back from leave. The first week or so I got looks of insult from the sandwich makers since I had refused their meats and cheeses, but they soon got used to it. Since the sandwich line is not busy in the morning I chat a little bit with the sandwich artist, emphasis on “little” since he speaks very little English. His name is something like Desaby and he is from India. Maybe. He now starts making my sandwich without asking what I want and he also has started putting on double tomatoes.

The omelet guys also recognize me and have my omelet cooking before I get to the grill which has the added benefit of making sure that my eggs are cooked the whole way through. Most days the head cook will see it’s me and throw in a little extra cheese. Breakfasts might be the only part of Rusty that I will truly miss.