Iraqi Express

On a street that runs perpendicular to mine, I watched a neighbor's yard as a crew was trying to film the gravel bordering his property and the city street. I guess the gravel was supposed to be shown as a scene in a documentary on World War II. A full day passed and the crew was back, filming the gravel. There was some unidentified problem and the filming stopped- the owner of the property disappeared into his house only to return, irate and with a patch of sod he said he tore out of the ground for the sake of the filming.

Almost immediately after that, I was in Iraq explaining to an Iraqi woman where Texas was. I recall saying that "I think Baghdad is supposed to be comparable to Houston, Texas". I then somehow made this map of the United States with my two hands and I couldn't believe what a great depiction of the US I had made. I pointed to where Texas was and she somehow understood. The next thing I remember is having to board a train with this Iraqi woman and 2 other Americans. A grave sense of danger overtook us, reminiscent of Dith Pran's plight in the movie "The Killing Fields", and we secretly had to board the train (that was bound for a neighboring country). My Iraqi guide made it clear that we weren't to speak English and that we should maintain a low profile.

Our seats were on the terraced roof, only separated by small ornamental fences that looked to be from the turn of the century. We wanted to sit in the front, so naturally I ran there and leap over these mini fences like I was Clint Eastwood in one of those movies from the 70's where he chases the bad guy atop tall buildings. When I sat down again, the train and stopped and the conductor motioned at me. He was angry. This wasn't good. Unsure if the gig was up, I sat silently in my seat hoping for some reprieve.