Chapter 9

After my tour in Doha, I came back to the states and lived in mom and dads house that they bought in Tucson. They had been renting it out and the renters had left recently. I agreed to stay and look after the place. During this time, I got work at a plumbing supply company called Winnelson. I was a truck driver / delivery guy. It was good work but I was becoming tired of warehousing duties.
One day during a delivery run. I happened to come across ITT Technical Institute. They offered electronic training in several areas, and Computer Aided Drafting (CAD) was one of the courses. I had also seen their commercials on TV.
The next day, I went in to see the place. Before to long, I had signed up for the course in CAD. The school offered a 2 year Associates degree in one year at the cost of $10,000 dollars. I got the school loan and started. I stayed at Winnelson working the day shift and went to school at night.
It was pretty cool. I started by learning the basics of drafting and doing hand drafting on the board. We moved up to learning how to design printed circuit boards, theory, design, Etc. By the time I had gotten to the 4th quarter of school, I found a job at Southwest Circuits making P.C. boards. Now I was getting somewhere. It was 1986 and I was 26.
I worked my way through every phase of P.C. board manufacturing and soon I was approached about starting a design room in house for the company. This meant more money so I jumped on the idea. $8.00 an hour wasn’t to bad for Tucson. I was glad I had free rent at mom and dads house.
It was during this time that my life changed for the better.



















Tanya when I first met her in school

There I was minding my own business in school. During class breaks, I would get a soda and walk the halls or stand outside and talk with friends. There was on group of girls that took these opportunities to walk around the school building for exercise.
One girl that would joke around with the guys was Donna. She and I would talk a during breaks. She had a friend that I personally thought had to be stuck up and looked to have money because of the way she dressed. Always classy. Somehow, this girl, Donna, and I started talking more and more during breaks. This other girls name I found out was Tanya…Debbie…Tanya…Debbie…something. I found out that she was recently divorced or separated and was going through the process of having her name changed from Debbie to Tanya. She always hated the name Debbie. Her mom named her that even though her Grandmother had wanted Tanya. So…
One day, Tanya…Debbie…Tanya and I were talking when she asked if I would like to get a drink sometime. That was good for me. We met at the Circle K up on Orange Grove and ended up going out to the Black Angus for dinner, drinks, and a movie. She showed up in a skirt, belt and a black satin top that was…OOOOHHHHHH BABY!. I of course was dressed as always in my classy jeans and a plain shirt…I was out classed. She was beautiful. I don’t mean to brag, but during my time I’ve known some pretty girls, but this woman was Gorgeous.
Anyway, to say the least, I had a great time…I don’t know about her. Was I suave? Debonair? Handsome? A stooge? She talked to me the next week at school so I guess I did ok. In fact, I did so good that we started dating. I was 27 and actually dating.
I was just about to graduate school. Tanya was one quarter behind me in a different class. After I graduated, we would see each other after work and school every night.
She lived on the South East side of town in a house with her two boys J.P. and Grant. J.P. is short for Justin Peter.














Grant-left, and J.P.-right, when I met them

We won’t get into specifics about their dad Ray except that Tanya and Him were divorced. As a side note, throughout the years, Ray, Tanya, and I have gotten along very well and in fact Ray has gotten married again and has a daughter named Grace that Morgan likes to think of as her sister. They visit quite a lot and we all have a good time.
Anyhow…Tanya’s graduation finally came and we celebrated. Now what? There wasn’t anything holding either of us in Tucson. Tanya wanted to sell the house and see other places. Mom was back in town and looking for another renter so that left me free to go. We discussed and hem hawed around and decided that we would go to Reno Nevada. Why? I don’t know…it was there.



















Tanya and I at her graduation

By the way, this was a big step for both of us. We hadn’t known each other for more than 6 month’s and we were going to move to Nevada together with her boys. We didn’t have jobs or a place to stay either. We just planned on getting an apartment when we got there and then look for a job.
It took nine weeks before a got a job. It wasn’t a big job either. I had sent out hundreds of resumes around the area. Finally a company called and wanted me to help design an annunciator panel for a casino in town. It was easy enough and it paid a lump sum at the end of the project. While I was working on it, the owner happened to come by to see how I was doing. He was impressed at the work and offered me a full time job for more money as a CAD Drafter. Of course I took it.
I was at the company for a month or two when the word went out that they were looking for another drafter. I immediately told them about Tanya and she was also hired on. Things were looking up. It was while we were in our apartment that we started up “Dumpster Diving”.
Dumpster diving is just that. You go around to different apartment complexes or industrial complexes, find a dumpster that looks inviting, make sure there is no people around to see you (embarrass you), take a strategic stance, run over, climb up, and jump in…IF its not to full of regular garbage gross stuff. You would be very surprised at what people in apartments throw out. Think about it. When you have to move for whatever reason, you have to move. People in apartments seem to have disposable property like beds, couches, toys, clothes, Etc. For whatever reason, the easy thing to do when you’re in a rush is to make use of the readily accessible big dumpsters that the apartment complex provides. We furnished our first apartment with Dumpster dive goodies. We would find chairs, kitchen tables, sofas, bed frames, dishes, and once we even found clothes with the price tags still on them. What you couldn’t use, you could garage sale and make money. We were living the high life for sure.
Grant and J.P. did the daycare at this time. Grant was different from the day I met him. The one big thing he did was when he got mad, he of course would scream like little kids do, but he would also grunt and growl, push you away when you tried to get him…In fact he still acts like that…he’s just taller now. Tanya would have to grab him, sit down, and hold him down with her legs, arms and body while he wiggled around growling and grunting and tried getting away. What a pain in the butt! He always wanted his way. Tanya would be all calm and talk real soft while he did his thing. Soon he would give up and just lay there like a wet towel…all done.
J.P. liked to have dreams and sleep walk. He did this until…maybe he still does that? Anyway, he would come into our room and start talking (2:00am). He would talk about the dinosaur by the bed or the little men running around and then would get scared and start shaking. We would talk to him and ask him about what he saw and what he was doing, and basically laugh our butts off. Then we would get a real cold washcloth and put it on his face. Pretty soon he would stop talking. When he figured out that he was awake and in our room, he’d go back to bed.
Well, the job we had didn’t last long. One day the secretary came in at 15 minutes before closing time and told us that we were laid off. Thanks for the notice. We were out looking again in no time. This time Tanya landed the interview with a company called Bruce Industries just outside Carson City, which was about 50 miles away. When she went for her interview, I tagged along as the driver. When they called her in, I walked upstairs with her and started doing the small talk along the way to the boss. By the time we arrived at the conference room, they wanted to talk to both of us. We were hired that day. Tanya got more money an hour since she was the initial contact, which didn’t bother me at all. This was our first real good paying job at $14.00 an hour.
We started as hand drafters on the board doing a very large military contract called JSIPS.
This stood for Joint Services Imaging Processing Systems and consisted of 6 pieces of equipment. When we saw the scope and magnitude of the job, we instantly suggested using AutoCAD. Only a couple of people used it at the time but we insisted on getting more stations to speed up work. They agreed and Tanya and I were off and running. Unfortunately, all but one of the original engineers on the project quit within the next month. This left Ron Harvey, Tanya, and myself. Not a problem. We snagged some of the other draftsmen that weren’t busy, hired a few more, and got busy. Tanya was the head bean in engineering, Ron was the engineer, and I ran back and forth between manufacturing, and us. We did everything from designing each part, to painting the camo paint on the finished product. The whole project took us 3 years to complete.
During this time, we purchased our first house together. It was a nice place (kinda small) on the north side of town in a place called Stead.
Stead consisted of a few neighborhoods, a quick mart, a gas station, a school, and an industrial area. Our house was located on a circle in one of these neighborhoods. It had a large backyard with tiers on the back fence and was big enough for a garden area and dogs. The front yard was small but perfect. The house needed some fixing up but we got a good deal on the price and were eager to start doing some work on it.
I never really saw the neighbor to the left of us. They had weird hours. The people to the right looked like he was a mechanic of sorts and had vehicles everywhere. She was a schoolteacher and in fact ended up teaching the guys at one point in time. We slowly started to get to know each other and through the years, ended up being best friends.
One night while watching the news, A story came on about a rescue that had taken place. Washoe County Search and Rescue was the team that was doing the rescue. It looked interesting so the next day I called about information on it. After a few calls, I was put in touch with the main guy. He told me the requirements for joining. I went to several meetings and in few months, I was voted into the team.
When you were on the team, you were issued a pager and a radio. This meant being on call 24 hours a day. Most of the calls came in the early morning hours or late at night. It seems like I was running all the time. The team averaged approximately 30 rescues or searches a month.
After a year or so on the team, I brought my vehicle in to the unit. To have a vehicle, it had to be 4-wheel drive and pass the teams inspection. You then had to pass a driving test and go on a few rescues as a driver to be evaluated. Once you passed, you had to paint your vehicle white if it wasn’t already. Then you received the emblems to put on the vehicle. Every one wanted to have a vehicle and be a driver. I had a Suzuki Samurai at the time and with my neighbor’s help (the mechanic) I had it lifted and ready to go. Everyone on the team would give me a hard time about it being a “Rice Rocket” or being a tipping hazard. They did until they saw what it could do. Because of the small wheelbase and power, it went a lot of places the big trucks and jeeps wouldn’t fit. While other people were breaking things on their jeeps, I went on my way.












My vehicle on the Rubicon Run in Nevada up by Tahoe and my badge



















Soon, My neighbor (his name is Gene by the way) joined the team. We were attached at the hip. Since we lived next door to each other, we always went on searches together. He drove a CJ7 that blew everyone out of the water…it was huge and went everywhere.
OK, glad you asked...rescue stories...hmmm.
In general, most of the calls were for missing hikers up in the mountains or retrieving "Popsicles" during snow season. By the way, when we would find a "victim" or deceased person, we would call command post and tell them that we had come across a Badger. This way if the family was near, they didn't know that we meant "the deceased guy". Popsicle was the same but it refered to the "frozen" dead guy.
We were called out for an extrication one day up at Tahoe at a plane crash. A pilot from California had gone missing 3 days previous when someone from the lake had called in to report a possible crash. I was volunteered to go in and secure the scene. The trip up entailed the use of the 4 wheel drives, switching to quads, and then a 2 mile hike in. The terrain was 50 degree pluss by the time I reached the site. It was a small single engine Cesna that hit straight on and did the accordian routine. I reached the site around 5:00 so I camped out that night. Because of the dense forest and bad angle, I did a cold camp and ate M.R.E's. I dug out a hollow at the high side of a tree and and rolled out the bed using the tree to keep me from rolling of the cliff down below. Between you, me, the 2 wolves and baby bear cub, I didn't sleep to much.
The next day the rest of the team came up...probably 20 guys. The rest of the day was spent unfolding the plane and doing the extrication. Not a fun job.
We were once called out in the middle of the night to search for "mysterious lights" that people had seen over the mountains to the South of town. Most of the department figured it was drug runners in the hills. The team joined up during the search about an hour in and were closing in on the "lights". As we came to the ridge of a hill, we were met by military, fully armed, and ready to kick some rescue be-hind if neccesary. After much ta-doo, we were told to leave the area under escort. DANGIT!...another couple hundred yards and we would have been able to see what we had been chasing. No mention of "lights" in the next days paper either although it was seen by tons of people.
We had one helicopter crash that we had to go back into because the Coroner found that after the initial findings in the lab, the pilots drivers license said he weighed 182 and we had brought out only 150lbs of body...oops.
One year, during a large forst fire, we had been out for 3 days straight doing rescues, evacuations, searches, Etc. We were tired, beat up, just draggin' butt, and a reporter comes up on the street and asks me why we volunteer to do this type of thing and not get paid for it. OK...maybe I was tired but it was a stupid question in my eyes. I told her that I was the highest paid person there that night. I explain, When you bring somebody in after missing in the fire area (especially kids) or any search and rescue mission for that matter, and you see the families faces when you show up at comand post, the thanks and hugs you get from eveyone are worth more than money. You feel like your walkin' on air and that pumps you up to go out and do another 36 hours straight. I'd do it for free forever if I could.
Anyway, enough of that. Just a coincidence, my old neighbor (Gene) is coming in from Las Vegas soon for the 4th of July weekend so I need to finish this chapter up. Sorry this is short but until next time...

Chapter 8

My memory and time frames start giving out at this point in time. I do remember that I had called Suzie (from College) to see how she was doing. She was now working for an airline in Chico California in reservations for Pacific Express airlines.
Somehow she talked me into coming out to Chico and attending the airline school to become a reservations person also. It cost $5,000 and 3 months. I took the opportunity and headed out to Chico.
Chico is on the Northern half of California by the way. My Pontiac was a faithful piece of metal until the last 100 miles of the trip…it’s all uphill. The clutch was going out and the blown head gasket was too much for it to stand. I pulled into the airline school parking lot and it gave up the ghost. As a side note…it stayed there 4 years after I had left in the same spot until some one finally called it in as abandoned. They’re quick in Chico. Anyway, I had to borrow her bicycle to get back and forth to school. After 3 month’s of school, I passed with flying colors. School was pretty intense so I didn’t get a job while in school. I was slowly running out of money. Can you tell that things had been on a downward spiral since the Air force?
After graduating, everyone goes into reservations to start their “career”. After a few years in this position, you can move up to ticket counter agent and work at the local airport in Chico. Actually it was more of an airstrip than airport…it was small. That year however, the company was short agents. They picked 4 people out of our class to be ticket agents. Why they picked the new people I don’t know. I know it made a lot of people mad. This position meant more money and prestige and I was one of the people picked. I thought…cool!, more money, and I’m right by the airport…OK! Unfortunately, it wasn’t this airport I would be working at.
Los Angeles International Airport was the choice. The airline had gotten set up there right across the isle from Pan Am. Of course this meant moving to L.A. And we had to pay our own expenses. Remember now, I have little to no money and no car for transportation. Just when things are looking up…
A friend of mine drove me down to L.A. I had enough money to stay a couple of nights in a hotel just off the main drag by the airport. Payday was just around the corner in 2 weeks and I figured I would get something before to long so I wasn’t worried about it.
Two weeks is a long time. Have you ever been on standby or delayed in an airport? You know the chairs in the waiting areas at the gates? Not the plastic ones…the cushy ones with the coffee stains…yep, those. If you pick the ones in the corner with the armrests that fold up, they make a pretty good bed. Who would know…lots of people in LAX sleep in chairs at all hours of the day. I blended in great. I also lucked out when I found that one of the main janitor closets was no more than 20 feet from the counter. This baby had it all. It had hooks for hanging things and it had a shower basin for ringing out mops and a hand held showerhead. Heaven I tell you…heaven. It was so good that I never bothered getting an apartment…not that I could afford one or get back and forth to work.
I would still be living in hog heaven today if the company had filed bankruptcy 3 months after I started. One day you’re living high…the next morning, you’re on the streets of LA.
This was in ’82 / ‘83 I think…don’t ask. I took a bus home and I don’t remember chain of events. At some point, I went to a town of Goodyear where my folks had gone after completing their tour in Venezuela. They were working as apartment managers there.
I went and stayed there with them and helped out and also took a job in a circle k store on the corner up the street. I did the 3:00p to 11:00p shift. This left me all day to run and work out. I had started to run in Israel and the service and kept it going. I ran 5 miles a day and lifted weight at the local gym. I didn’t have any friends to speak of. I knew one gal who worked as a dancer who came in the store a lot and that was it.
We were here until dad again answered an ad and found himself and me in Tucson at a company called Exportran. They were hiring for a project in Doha Qatar…the Persian Gulf area. Mom stayed in Goodyear until dad sent for her.
Ah yes…Doha. Land of desert. This place was flat, flat, flat. It was however, close to the ocean…the Persian Gulf to be exact.
Once again, dad was there first for some reason and I came next. Where to begin…I packed, I flew; I landed…no problem. I walked in the terminal doors and up to the “Work Visa” counter…problem.
After looking at my visa certificates and documents, the nice Arabic guy behind the counter said…”You no old enough to do job”. Got that? “You no big”. OK, I’m game, what did he say? Long story short, My visa said that I was to be the Purchase Administrator for the Emir. My age listed was 24 (hey, this must have been in 1984). In his mind I guess a 24-year-old can’t do this job. Sure, that makes perfect sense.
I was then shuffled into a small room with a military guard. Third world countries like military guards by the way. For 4 hours, I sat in this room. While sitting there I noticed a door with a small window on the opposite wall. This door looked out into the parking lot of the airport. While I was looking out of it, lo and behold, my dad walks by on the sidewalk. He’s been walking around looking for me. After saying our howdy do’s, he talks to the project manager who in turn talks to the main guys assistant who in turns calls someone on his phone. 10 minutes later, the guard picks up the phone, sweats a little, gets the sergeant who picks up the phone, sweats a lot, says a lot, whines a lot, and then yells at me and tells me to get out.
I guess this Emir guy carries a lot of weight in his country. He was the one on the other end of the phone. His full name by the way was Sheik Nassar Bin-Ackmed Bin-Ali Al-Thani.
Well, I finally get out and into the real world and into the heat. The average temperature in this area is 120 degrees and the horizon and sky had that familiar gray line dividing them. Although Israel had its flat spots, it was nothing like this place. There were no mountains, hills, valleys, or color.
The trip to the compound was a short 20-minute drive. It was located approximately 10 miles outside the town of Doha on the South side. During the drive, it seemed as though every car we passed including taxis, were Mercedes, with gold trim. The intersections were made from “round-a-bouts” instead of standard square intersections with lights. People here drove crazy. On a two-lane road, you have a center solid stripe that is supposed to denote two different lanes…two sides of the road. In Doha, the center stripe was used to drive the car directly down the center of the road. It was like a yellow magnet that sucked the vehicle directly over it when you drove. When on-coming traffic cam, you veered over to your side again to avoid hitting head on. Don’t get me started on the round-abouts.
After 20 minutes of “Death Race”, we arrived. The compound sat off the main road about 50 yards. It was made up of five small trailers. Each trailer had two 10’ x 10’ rooms at each end and a bathroom in between. When you opened the door, you could go left, right, or straight to the bathroom. These converted job site trailers were again called “Hooches”. The trailers were put into a horseshoe configuration and vehicles were parked in the middle.
We were part of a larger compound as well. The entire compound was as large as a football field. The rest of the compound was designated for Philippine contractor and employees…Eresca was the contractor’s name. We were the only 10 Americans on the compound and on the site out of over 300 Philippine workers. We were the brains; they were the brawn…we were out numbered. I settled in and made myself at home. The room came with a twin bed, dresser, small refrigerator, and an air conditioner. There were several small holes in the floor that looked like someone had taken a hammer to it with the claw portion and hacked away. I would have to plug those sometime I guessed. Dad introduced me to the rest of the guys including Dave who threw me a beer. I was pretty sure this was a “dry” country and alcohol was not permitted. It was explained that since there was British companies here, you could go to the cable and wireless and spend up to $400 dollars a month on booze. Dave spent every dime obviously. It was getting late and tomorrow was Friday so I hit the sack early. Work started at 4:00am.
The project consisted of 300 villas that Al-Thani’s Air force families would live in. They spared no expense. You would be hard pressed to find as nice of a home stateside. There were 4 different models and each one had the best of everything including gold plated faucets, marble floors, Jacuzzi tubes, and sound systems.















The project. The warehouse is shown in the lower left with the yard around it. The well and pumping station are in the upper right.
Dad was the engineer on the project over plumbing / pipefitting. Eresca had started early on the project before dad arrived and had screwed things up. When dad asked to see the test results of the underground main water lines, they didn't’ have any results. That’s because they didn’t do any tests before they covered up and paved the streets on phase 1. Wait…It gets better.
There was no water on site. All water for construction purposes had been coming in on water trucks. Here is the deal. The plans called for a well to be dug and a pumping station to be installed…pretty elaborate stuff. You see there was no such thing as pressurized water systems in this country. Even the projects that the British companies were working on, all used gravity feed systems. All water was on shipped on trucks and in turn was poured into big holding tanks, which were mounted on rooftops. When you turned a faucet handle, it came out through gravity flow only. Unfortunately, Eresca’s project engineer didn’t know any better either and so he proceeded to build per his known standard and not per print. Gravity feed doesn’t have too much pressure so the piping can be substandard. Clamps? We don’t need no stinking clamps.
When dad showed them the plans for the new well and fire protection (fire hydrants in the street), disbelief abounded and rumors of Voodoo circulated. This was unheard of. I suppose this would be a rather big step for the locals and a little unbelievable…who knew. 3 months later, The well, pumping station, and other equipment were finally completed. Dad had run the station through its tests and it held a nice 300 pounds per square inch just like it should. Phase 2 paving had also been completed. After much discussion, yelling, and finger pointing, dad christened the station and put the water to the project. Our little group was happy when the water started pumping and the pressure started building and filling the main lines. Things were starting to look up and it looked like we were going to have water on site and in a few homes.
We got water all right. When the pressure filled the main to ¾ capacity, we had lots of water. It wasn’t controlled but it was water all the same. You should have seen the looks on Eresca’s faces when the streets in phase 1 and phase 2 blew up. Dad warned them and showed them how to install and test but to no avail…OOPS. It worked out ok because to tell the truth, the streets were not all that good to begin with. They looked more like roller coaster trails than flat streets…but that’s another story. My guys loved the geysers of water shooting skyward and were running around like kids in a sprinkler.













Did I mention my guys? My guys consisted of (from left to right) Me on the far upper right, 1 Philippine labor (Talin) 1 Philippine foreman (Armando), 1 Pakistani labor (Mannan), 1 India labor (Pog),
1 India labor (Luntz), 1 India labor (Zubair), 1 Philippine labor (Roger). Badsha is not shown
We all worked over in the warehouse and yard, which was off to the West of the project. This is where I spent 2 years working away in 120-degree weather, 6 days a week, 16 hours a day. Fortunately, being close to the gulf, it was more of a humid heat than dry heat, and the ground was covered with a fine white silt that clung to you after 5 minutes in the heat so you always looked albino. I call it “Poof dirt” because it went “poof” and sent up a cloud of smoke when you walk in it.
We American white boys always wore shorts and muscle shirts to help keep cool so we were against the norm once again. Everyone else wore pants, work shirts, or traditional garb and headdress. I don’t understand how they lived like that.
My best employee was Mannan, a 17-year-old Pakistani kid. Mannan lived in the lower part of town with 15 other guys. No, they weren’t “hinkey” or anything…they just had to share a place in order to afford the rent. When Mannan told me about the place, I naturally thought that it would be of a good size and kind of look like an apartment back home. It’s natural…come on. One day he mentioned that his place had no “Condition” and it was pretty hot inside. I figured out the “condition” word as being an air conditioner. The warehouse happened to have several small window a/c units that had been bent or damaged in route and I could not put them in a new house like that. I told Mannan that a friend and I would bring a unit over to his place and plug it in for him. You would have thought I was a God. Man was he happy.



















This is the first of many doorways, twists, and alleyways we took to get to Mannans "House"

Upon arriving at the building complex / slum / shanty Ville / dump, Mannan led us through several narrow alleys about 3 foot wide and entirely covered with bright cloths, scarves, sheets, and turban wraps. On each side were hand made room like adobe structures with openings cut in the walls for doors. There were no doors but carpets and rugs hung in their place.
We finally came to a small opening, which Mannan said was his place. Inside, we found a 10ft x 10ft dirt room complete with corrugated metal roof and dirt floor, and 15 men crammed inside. Ah, home at last. Needless to say, it was very hot (what with the roof and all) and it smelled.
We were shuffled inside with our “condition” while several other men shuffled outside to make room. A new hole had been carved out of the alley sidewall and an extension cord hung inside. The other end lead down an alley, around a corner, down another alley, and into oblivion. We had attracted quite the crowd now, which was gathering and growing outside the room. Someone had even pulled back a section of the roof covering to get a good look at what was going on inside.
My friend and I cut a bit more from the hole and eased the a/c into its place. A sturdy 2 x 4 was propped underneath to secure it from falling…I’m being sarcastic here. I instructed Mannan on how to operate the unit. He was now the controller of the “condition”.
I asked if the cord was plugged in…it was. I turned it on and it sprang to life. It made its familiar sound of the compressor kicking on and the fan turning. Familiar to me anyway. When it kicked on, so many people gasped all at once that I swear it sucked all the air out of the room and two more rooms next to it. The kid on the roof fell off because he lurched back so quickly. The men that took up so much space in the small room stood back in such amazement that they all fit into the opposite corner with lots of room to spare. All we could see was white eyeballs and open mouths. After the initial surprise wore off though, people started filing in one at a time to feel the cold air. You would have thought we were God’s. Alpha Shukran means “One thousand thank you’s” in Arabic. How do I know?…We heard it over and over and over for the next half-hour.
We were then asked to stay and celebrate the victory and cold air by staying for dinner and a party in honor of the ”condition”. We agreed. The details and things that took place at that party will remain a secret. I could go into details but I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't do it justice...you had to be there. Indiana Jones has nothing on me. I will say that the whole “Shanty Ville” turned out in full garb.
Mannan taught me a lesson on customs while I was in Doha too. He had gone to the dentist to have a tooth pulled. The next day, he came to work as usual ready to work. I met everyone else at the door but Mannan would not come in. In fact he wouldn’t even look at me when I called him. I kind of blew it off and got everyone else lined out for the day. I told Badsha to get with Mannan and show him what to do.
This worked out pretty good and things were moving along. At lunch, I came over to eat with the guys and Mannan literally ran off into the warehouse. Ok…enough is enough. I ask Badsha what was going on. He informed me that Mannan’s tooth had been pulled and was not hurting until he came to work and saw me. Supposedly, Because I was in charge of him during work, and I was wearing some gold jewelry showing wealth and power over him…this was bad. I guess I had made his poor demon mad.
So what was I supposed to do? Badsha called Mannan over. This took most of the lunch hour to do so and the guys had to physically drag Mannan over to me kicking and screaming and holding his mouth…kinda funny actually.
Badsha told me that I had to then take off my gold ring, hide it in my pocket, and then work up a good saliva, and spit on him. Say What?!!! No way I said. “It’s the only thing that will drive off the demon away” Badsha tells me. Well this was stupid but Mannan was rolling around like a dog who just got hit by a truck, so I spit a good one on him…right on the head. Instantly, Mannan gets up, says his “Alpha Shukran”, smiles, and sits down and eats lunch…pain gone…hello. Wouldn’t an Aspirin done just as good?
Anyway…as I said earlier, we started work a 4:00am and worked until around 8:00pm. We were afforded a 3 hour lunch most days which was nice. Until we got water on site, we would shoot down to the beach and dip our tootsies in the water and relax. We would watch the people walk by or just nap. I still couldn’t get over the fact that everyone was dressed in full clothing. It had to be hot. If one of the locals would want to jump in the water, he just left his little nighty on and dove in.



















Typical Arabic garb worn at all times…hot date?...nighty. Shopping?...nighty. Working at the office?...nighty. Swimming?...nighty.
The sun didn’t set until around 9:30 each night so after work, we would sit around the compound area on the steps of the Hooches and talk. Sometimes we would throw bits of food out into the center in the dirt and watch the rats come out from under the Hooches and eat. These things were as big as...rats. At one point, there got to be so many that we had to get rid of them. They were starting to chew on the underneath of the Hooches and coming up through the floors. Dad made us all blowguns out of copper pipe and we went to work. It turned out to be quite the entertainment. Getting rid of them after the kill was no problem either. The Eresca crews liked to cook them like kabobs…rat-kabobs.















Some of our prize kill. Not a very good picture though. That'sy dad on the left in the brown shirt. I'm in the middle in the other brown shirt.

We had separate eating quarters in the compound and Eresca’s cook also cooked for us. We were served after the others so we had a later lunch. After all there were 300 of them, 10 of us. When we did eat, we had a choice of succulent food and beverage…Chicken, grilled cheese, and warm water. The chicken was prepared by first slamming a plucked chicken carcass on the table and hacking it to pieces with a clever in small bite size chunks…bones and all. This pile was then scooped in a bucket and dumped into a vat of boiling grease to fry. It was then scooped out with a net and placed in a bowl. Finger food. If you preferred grilled cheese, that was available. This was two pieces of bread with cheese in the middle, which was also thrown into the same vat to fry, scooped out and then stuck on a piece of bailing wire which stuck out of the wall so it could drip dry for a few minutes. The grease pots were never changed…just re-filled when they started getting empty.
I figured that this was just part of the customs that I would have to get used to. That is until I saw what Eresca was eating. A solid door that locked separated the eating quarters. The kitchen had another entrance. One day the door didn’t shut to well and we all took a peek.
Salad bar, fish, meat, fruit, deserts a veritable smorgasbord of tasty treats. What’s with that? We got the feeling that Eresca didn’t like Americans to well. I ate there for a week. After that, dad and I made our way into town to the local Souk, or market place. Here one could get just about anything to eat. Dad and I ended up trying some of everything over time but had decided that the Schwarma was the best thing around for about 50 cents or 4 Riyal.
This little beauty started as a camel that was hung upside down on a pole structure in the butcher / deli shop. Its head was turned upward and tied back so it didn’t hit the ground and people would trip on it. You would go up and point to an area that you wanted to be cut. After wiping the flies and dirt off with his shirttail, the butcher would cut off a chunk and put it on a small spit to cook. After it was cooked, the meat was then sliced up and put into a pita bread with a mixture of salad, potatoe chunks, pickle slices, and topped with Tabasco sauce and Tahina. Two of these and a warm Coke would hit the spot, and if camel meat wasn’t your thing, you could opt for goat or monkey meat as well.
The Souk offered other services as well. You could go down and rest your feet in a smoke bar and have a big round of water bong with the boys and play cards or talk. You could have any type of writing or documents translated on the corner next to the Koran seller. You could buy Koran’s in different languages. Monkeys were a favorite and cages full of them lined the streets. Gold shops showed their wares in huge glass windows and doors. Carpets and rugs were laid out in the dirt streets and alleyways for people to view and drive on. The good quality rugs held up after a lot of this abuse. Colorful plastic bowls, cups, pots, and utensils hung under every awning so low that you had to push them aside when you walked on the sidewalks. There were also Tailors from India who could whip out a perfect suit for you in any color in an hour. Homeopathic cures, herbs, and healers were a big trade as well as acupuncture. To keep the kids entertained, (and us), the local hypnotist could be found playing to basket full of Cobra’s. My favorite handy item was the “Mecca Meter”. Only one vendor sold this. If you’ve seen a compass, you’ve seen a Mecca Meter. The only difference is that almost 100 numbers are imprinted on the face of the compass instead of North, South, East, and west. A booklet that comes with the compass has these numbers along with countries and capitol names printed inside. An example would be Qatar, Doha, would be number 32 in the booklet. You find this number on the compass face and turn the compass until the magnetic needle is over 32. You then look at the painted red arrow on the compass face to find which way Mecca is…Cool. This item would come in handy later on. These things went like hotcakes. Don’t Muslims know where Mecca is?














One of the many gold shops at the Souk. THe bangles on the left were $5 a pop...18k gold

Then there was the flat bed truck that would make its BI-weekly rounds picking up dead beggars from alley’s and doorways. Beggars would always hang out in front of shop doors begging for food and money. These were great locations since people were in and out all day. Unfortunately, the whole country was poor so not much money was to be spared by the locals. Most shops here depended on tourist or non-locals who would for some reason come down from the main stream area to walk around and shop. You had 3 classes of people here. The super rich (2%), who wouldn’t be caught dead in the Souk, the poor, which was 97%of the population, and the beggars (1%).
Another place we would go was the beach or a small island that was in international waters off the coast. I don’t remember the name of the island but a lot of British people went here on the weekends so they could “let their hair down”. You could also bring alcohol here without any problems.
The island was probably as big as a football field and had low shrubs and rocks on one edge. The rest was white sands and Brit. women with no tops on. I never looked myself but I hear it was rather astonishing to view. The Arabs would run their boats and ships out and tie off a few hundred feet off shore and scope them out with their binoculars.
We would go out and do a lot of snorkeling and messing around. There was an old shipwreck on the East shore that was fun to go to. One time, a friend of mine and I were out by his boat snorkeling. We were about 50 yards out when we noticed a fin going through the water. As we dove down in about 15 feet of water, we saw the rest of the fin…a 7-foot great white. It was small but it made us a bit nervous. My friend had a “Bang Stick” with him that he used to dislodge coral from the bottom. A bang stick is a pole with a 12-gauge shotgun shell in the end that you can shoot if you apply pressure to the end.
Anyway, We were making our way back to the boat when the shark decided to get a better look at us by swimming in between us a few times. After a few sweeps, my friend gets to nervous and puts the stick into the right eye of the shark. Unfortunately for me, when he did this, the shark reacted by spinning his head left and up into my side. I was not amused.
The shark was dead and started floating down to the bottom. I went topside screaming like a banshee at my friend asking him what he thought he was doing…I think it was appropriate don’t you? We made it to the boat, took a break, and assessed the situation. When you bleed in water, it always looks like more blood than there really is. Between the shark and I, you would have thought someone had butchered a steer in the water with all the blood. I got one good cut on my side and a bunch of little cuts on my arms and hands but that’s about it. My arm and ribs hurt like a sucker though.
After pulling one tooth from my side and duct taping it closed so I wouldn't bleed, we went back down and drug the shark back to the boat. Back at the compound, we snapped a few photos and let the Eresca guys have it so they could make shark steaks out of it. I took the head and boiled the teeth out and drilled holes in them so I could put them on a chain. I still have them somewhere. We never did see anymore shark or to much other marine life for that matter after that.
































Me and my buddy the shark

Only one other minor incident that happened…we Americans couldn’t have drivers licenses in Doha. Don’t ask me why. Unfortunately, we lived 5 miles from the job site. What are you going to do? We all drove our company trucks anyway without the emblems on the doors.
Well, one day in my second year there, a patrol car came in to the compound. I was delivering concrete bags to the site and was just returning to the warehouse when I was stopped. I was on the job site and no where near a public road by the way. The two police officers had me get out come with them…in cuffs, to their car. As we were driving out of the job site, my project manager was DRIVING BY IN A TRUCK by the way, so I stuck my hands out and waved goodbye to him. I’m glad he saw me.
3 days / 2 nights I relaxed in heavenly bliss in my new lavish accommodations which were made possible by the local police. I swear from the first day I arrived, these guys didn’t like me.
I shared my lovely dirt floor cell that had no toilet or water with 3 other gentlemen of Muslim faith who argued constantly about which direction Mecca was…remember I told you my meter would come in handy. You have to understand that Muslims must pray to Allah 5 times daily facing the proper direction. They all chose a wall and prayed then argued, over and over. I however sat in silence…on the wall, which faced east. Who knew?…heh, heh, heh.
After the third day, the “toilet corner” was getting a bit ripe. Without a good shovel blade, you just couldn’t put enough dust or dirt over anything. I guess that the Emir found out that the only guy that could purchase, get, and deliver his materials to his project, was sitting in jail doing nothing. Again the phone calls started coming in and yelling commenced. I was again yelled at…(this time understanding every word) and hastened out of the front door. Man did I have to pee. (Please reference “no toilet” in the cell)
Other than this, nothing much ever really happened here. Just standard boring living stuff. We were always too busy to have much time to mess around. I’ll throw in some photos in here so you can see some of the sights or things that went on. This way this Autobiography will look bigger than it really is.




















TGI had a sand yacht race team so we would go out and race ever so often. That's me taking it for a spin.

OK, till next chapter...ta ta