"I'm talking about your fit over the footage not being aired."
I had no idea what she meant.
"It was based on you wanting the sacrifice of your assumptions paid
for, by assaulting your audience's sensibilities. You didn't think about your
driver‘s safety, and the Little General certainly wouldn't have allowed
such a damning story without retribution, would he? For that matter, I‘d
bet you didn‘t stop trying to interview people on the street, even knowing
what could happen to them."
Bonnie leaned back, giving me the psychological room to accept her
points as a sheen of sweat materialized on my brow.
Brightly, she said, "Now tell me about the Swedish women."
"The moment seems to have passed," I muttered.
"You mean the contrivance of interjecting a thought to avoid facing
what you and America are like seems to have backfired?"
"That too."
Sucking it up one more time, I blandly told her that the ladies walked
into the long, mirrored lounge soon after they had checked into the hotel.
Briefly surveying the scene, they glanced at each other and silently agreed
not to hover over the trough with the rest of us. The statuesque blonde
followed the lithe redhead to the far end of the room, both of them
probably thinking that our lingering glances were based on impure
thoughts generated by their fluid movements down the narrow aisle
between tables. Though this held some truth, at this specific time it wasn't
the reason behind our widening grins, which they could not help but
interpret as lust bouncing back from the mirrored walls: With every inch
that they moved into the empty seating area, they were breaking two rules
of personal safety.
As I had recently learned, veterans of combat coverage position
themselves near an exit, and away from windows, if they can. They also
do not isolate themselves, which is moot if you pay attention to the first
rule, because one faction or another in every war eventually tries to put the
press corps in their place. To separate one‘s self in any way is to make the
choice simpler for them.
Should one follow these rules, they wo uld also quickly become
acquainted with the peculiarities of that conflict, by mingling with veteran
crews who have nothing to gain by holding back on what it‘s really like.
Eight days earlier, upon our arrival at the Camino Real Hotel, LeBlanc—a
Middle East, Africa, Vietnam, Bangladesh veteran cameraman, had
virtually ordered me to mingle in the bar as soon as I had my gear
unpacked. "It's the only safe OJT you'll get," he said. (O n the Job
Training.) Manny had provided that for me.
