It was around midnight and we were gathered around the fire in the backyard when we heard someone talking in English in the street.
Go see what that was, Mohammed told me.
I approached the front door and peeked into the street, a number of Humvees were there. I returned to the group and told them we might have some company.
Almost every Friday night we gather with some friends for drinks and a barbecue. We all take turns hosting the nights: yesterday was our turn.
I went to the living room where my father was having a heated political debate with a friend and told them the house was likely to be searched. The two men stopped talking, looked at me carelessly for a second and then resumed their loud debate.
I went back to tend the fish we were preparing for our Masgoof dinner and then heard the front door open and a flashlight beamed into the driveway. I walked to meet the night visitors; 6 or 7 American soldiers and an Iraqi translator wearing a black ski mask walked in.
“Good evening gentlemen, how can I help you?”
“Hi, that’s a lot of cars you got here! Are they all yours,” the lead soldier said, obviously suspicious about the number of cars we had in the driveway.
“That one is ours, the rest belong to our friends.” I explained that we had guests and that they were going to spend the night here to avoid the curfew.
As I was speaking, two of the soldiers were using the lights on their rifles to look into the cars through the glass.
“Who are those people back there?”
“Those are our friends and my brothers,” I said as I led the way into the back yard.
The Iraqis and Americans exchanged words of greetings.
The soldiers began to feel a bit relaxed at this point, seeing the relaxed friendly mood, the barbecue and the drinks in Iraqis’ hands.
Read the rest of the piece. Keep in mind that Mohammad and Omar live in Baghdad. From what the Democrats and the media tell us, Baghdad is a hell hole, a quagmire. Yet, these gentlemen feel it’s safe enough to have a bunch of friends over and have a barbeque and drinks in the backyard.
Hat tip: Instapundit