I remember the days leading up to Gulf War I. What a different world that was.

[Poll_Blind]

  I was 18 or 19 or something and living in a little apartment downtown. School was out or I was playing hooky and listening to NPR where they played the debate on the Senate floor about whether or not to attack Iraq. Those are still some of the most eloquent speeches I've ever heard- the passion and arguments were incredible. From 7 or 8 am until the late afteroon when papa Bush started the attack, I walked around town listening to congress on my walkman. Long curly brown hair down to the middle of my back, a Cherry Poppin' Daddies shirt, parachute pants, worn combat boots and mirrored granny glasses. And my forehead, lined with stress. I was just a kid and I knew it but I could hear the adults...fighting and arguing to let sanctions work a little longer.

  There were grown-ups out in D.C. And when I slipped back home my girlfriend excitedly told me that the war had started. On CNN, Peter Arnette and Bernard Shaw were conducting their famous broadcast and I watched it live. Nightvision-green tracers arced through Baghdad skies, explosions nearby shook their camera.

  We were having a party that night, and "End of the World Party" and it was my job to score the acid. I was so enthralled with NPR that I'd forgotten to ease into conversations around town, gently work a request into the conversations. A friend of mine had arrived early and we started the 10-minute walk downtown. It was already getting dark but there were lights and noise and shouting and chanting from the federal building.

  There were hundreds, maybe thousands there. Everyone still in their work clothes, very few signs. But people were pissed off and they knew that they had to say something, maybe shout something, and make their voices heard. On the other side of the street from the federal building is the downtown police station and there were about 100 supporters of the war who looked as if they'd been dipped in Flag paint. Flags were everywhere. One side of the street would shout at the other side of the street and that side would respond.

  And that's how it was. People out in the street, protesting, for or against, but being real. It was a night I'll never forget. I scored the acid- I knew I would. Sure enough a teenager on a bicycle toodled by repeating "Doses". We worked out our deal and went back home. The hits were the tiniest things I'd ever seen, about a dozen could have fit on your pinkie nail. But it was also the most potent stuff we'd ever eaten.

  There were about ten people there in our apartment, running around, spanking each other, conspiring to go into the bathroom with a bowl of glow-in-the-dark cornstarch and explore the boundaries of the universe as the commode dribbled noisily. Promises made that if we ever had kids we'd sell them into white slavery to buy more acid like this stuff.

  And MTV was playing the Peace Choir's "Give peace a chance", over and over again. They must've played it for hours, back to back. The same video. You can watch it here. My girlfriend was on her knees in front of the tv, licking the screen and crying. I threw my arms around her and she said she was ok but she didn't know why we had to do it. I didn't have any answers either. But that I was sure our congressmen and women were trying to stop it as soon as possible. And the next morning I walked by the federal building and, sure as hell, there were still people there the next morning. I won't ever forget it.

  But it's not that world anymore. Something about slouching twoard Bethlehem. Something about being too tired. I don't know what happened to the world in 10 years but it clearly branched away from that into something more complacent. I hope Iraq woke us up and that if we attack Iran there will be a response a bit more like '91. I think prosperity got to us a bit, the war didn't seem so real, not as big of a deal as it was back then. But it's a big deal now and it's going to be a bigger deal if we attack Iran.

  I can still hope, can't I?

PB

[stillcool]

1. My experience was just the opposite..

I remember someone asking me what I thought of the war..and from my barstool I said what war?...that's not a war...that's just some country getting bombed the shit out of. Vietnam was a family affair. I remember the party when he came home. I bought him a Donovan 8-track as a welcome-home gift. That war, looking back, was in the air that I breathed. It just hung there..everywhere, but nothing was said. I remember a boyfriend that had been there. We were driving down the street by his home, and he and his brother were arguing about the way a friend had been treated...'not being right'. He swerved the car repeatedly into on-coming cars..a kind of tap and go thing, yelling...is this right...is this right with each hit...making his point that the idea of fairness in life was bullshit. Beyond being terrified, it was quite the memorable lesson.