Of Fruity Drinks and Car Bombs

I just spent an enjoyable couple of hours with my friend Mario Loyola, who works for the Foundation for the Defense of Democracies and is at the start of a six-week stint in Iraq, writing primarily for National Review. You can read Mario's last two dispatches on NRO here and here.

Mario's trip got off to an unfortunate start, Qatar Airlines having lost his bags on the way in from Washington. To add insult to injury, the PX by the Embassy does not stock boots or field-suitable pants, so he's essentially left with the clothes on his back and whatever stuff he had in his backpack (most of which was taken up with his body armor).

Now, because my badge doesn't permit me to escort anyone around the Embassy complex, I had to enlist the services of one of the JAGs who works on rule of law issues so we could show Mario around the place. As anyone would, he marveled at the marble floors and ornate ceiling decorations in the Embassy. "You mean we took over the Presidential Palace unscathed and made it our Embassy?" Mario questioned incredulously. (And indeed it is surprising that this complex remained intact throughout the battle for Baghdad.)

Then we took him out to the pool area, which he compared to a resort in his native Puerto Rico. Other than the paucity of women in g-string bikinis, it really could have been: "All we're missing is fruity umbrella drinks," Mario said with a smile. We had to make do with multiple water bottles -- without little umbrellas -- in the lounge area, while talking Iraqi and U.S. politics. Such is life in Club Med Baghdad.