Dust Bowl (A tale of my football toss fiasco)

We decided to take a more low key approach to the Super Bowl at the Red Cross Office. To be blunt, there was no way we could compete with the two free beers offered to each service member at the DFAC during the game. 

 

SO, we still decorated, and with the help of volunteers created a pretty sweet brain teasing super bowl challenge and advertised a football toss, prior to the game of course. 

 

Our super bowl toss turned into more of a dust bowl; causing yet another call to the fire department (this makes my third call)

Here is the play by play:

Interesting fact I have come learn here in Iraq; smoke detectors show no prejudice between smoke and dust. 

 

We decided to setup the football toss in the internet café. The ceiling was high, making the lob shot a potential strategy for hitting the target. We were excited when our neighbor’s next store decided to take the challenge. The prize was a very large assortment of football snacks, to include a 12 foot summer sausage, kindly mailed to us by the Baghdad team (not sure why they decided to sneak that in among the toiletries.)

Upon first toss, our nerf ball was covered with dust. And after 50 or so throws that bounced off the wall, you could say a little dust started to circulate not only in the room but through the air ducts as well…including those leading to the unreachable room (as I now call it.)

Of course there was no issue until Jocelyn, the holder of the cipher lock combination, that granted access to the unreachable room, had left for the evening. It was me and maybe two others who were using Skype to call home. 

And then the dreadful ring of the smoke detector began, and I had forgotten to ask for the combination. Worse yet, I didn’t know what Jocelyn’s room number was. 

There are three telephone numbers posted outside the unreachable room. Three calls and three strikes. Apparently no one manages this room any longer, leaving no reason for them to have the entry code.

To keep from driving myself crazy, and the others who were trying to carry on conversations with family, I had two options. Figure out how to find Jocelyn or make yet another call to the fire department. 

A call to the housing office was in store. I know which area she lived but no particulars, and of course they couldn’t give me the room number. They did offer to knock on the door for me. 

No answer. Sigh.

I tried a few more numbers unsuccessfully and called back the poor airman at the housing office. I asked if I could go with him to try again. 

We walk up to her door, and of course it had a huge Red Cross on the front. Embarrassing moment number one. I should have just roamed the housing area, but thought it would have looked suspicious.

Still no answer. Finally I left a sticky on the door. “ Jocelyn: smoke detector is going off in the room with the cipher lock, and I don’t know the combination. Help!”

I went back to the office, and hesitantly called the Fire Department just to ask if they had the cipher lock code, nothing more. I guaranteed them it was just dust. 

I was transferred to the assistant fire chief. He asked me if the hinges were on the inside of the door or on the outside. And I knew that was not a good sign.

They did not have the code. The door was coming off. 

Not five minutes after the fire team was dispatched to rescue me from the constant torture of a sounding smoke detector, guess who calls.

Having secured the code I picked up the phone to cancel the request for help. The operator said they would probably come anyway.

Terrible timing. I went ahead and unlocked the door and shut of the fire alarm, then in walks the fire fighters. I apologized profusely saying that the building manager had just called back with the combination. 

And they said it would have been a lot more fun if they could have torn down the door. 

Humor helps even in the most embarrassing of circumstances.