November 2, 2007
From: Jack.Buchanan@politik.com
To: Taylor.Mark@gmail.com
Subject: Fwd: Bisous from Baghdad!!
T,
Hope New York is well and not too frigid. Read below—from Caitlin. Hate me now as I’m sure you must, and thank me later for rescuing you from being a recipient of correspondences such as these.
—JAB
From: Caitlin.MacMahon@gmail.com
To: [Recipients undisclosed]
Subject: Bisous from Baghdad!
Dear All,
First things first: Chazy, am absolutely devastated I won’t be able to make the wedding. Pleaded and begged with my supervisor, but apparently there’s some peace talk going on that weekend, etc., etc., etc. Needless to say, the priorities in this place need to be realigned! All my best, though, to you and Annalee (no doubt the luckiest bride in D.C.’s history!). Also, Chazy, if you remember (and I know you won’t, you big lug), tell her that I say to nix the lilac bridesmaid dresses but to keep e-mailing me suggestions. God knows I’ve got nothing to do here! In any event, moving on…
My loves, my loves, my loves! How I miss you all sooooo dearly. Firstly, allow me to say that the saying’s true: the zone is always greener on the other side of the (heavily guarded) fence. I’m finding out rather quickly that “deputy attaché to the Treasury Department” sounds a lot better at Smith Point than it does here in B-Town, but such is life, I suppose. Lots of paper pushing and the such, surely Princeton prepared me for more than this.
In terms of accommodations, my apartment wasn’t completed upon my arrival. (We’re on Iraq time, as we say.) So I’ve been staying in—how shall I say this while paying deference to the government that brought me here?—an “ill-equipped” trailer. (By “ill-equipped” I mean “no bathroom.” Which basically means that I’ve got to trek to the housing complex in order to shower, etc. And believe me, walking two hundred yards in 100+ degree heat is not what I expected to be doing in my Manolos.)
Aside from the aforementioned mishap, things are…well, things. I’ve learned that (a) Bose noise-canceling headphones do not reduce the deafening explosions of IEDs (much to yours truly’s disappointment—sectarian violence makes it absolutely impossible to sleep). Also, (b) finding a proper manicurist in the Green Zone is a task that should be reserved only for those deserving of the worst imaginable punishment. I’ve managed to find this lad who is a translator for the military (I’m pretty sure he’s gay—but didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell—don’t want to lose the only man in this hellhole who knows how to properly paint a nail!) who does a decent job. And finally, (c) contrary to what you may believe, “Green Zone” does not imply “organic.” Was positively shocked when I arrived and discovered canned beans and unrecognizable veggies served from aluminum trays. But don’t fear, my loves, your girl will survive. She always does! Until we speak again—adieu, you gorgeous beasts.
Bisous and xoxo and all that jazz,
Caitlin