Urbana, IL - The Super 8... and, of all things, hate... // August 5, 2007

We had driven about 14 hours from Hinesville. If you have not driven 14 hours at one shot in awhile... it sucks. I am a relaxed traveler. I am not all about "getting there" as much as I am about taking my time and enjoying the trip. But, when you have to travel 14 hours one day, get up and do another six the next - there is nothing to do but dive on... and on... so we drove.

Finally, we came to rest in a sleeper city next to the highway outside of Champaign, IL - Urbana. I jump out of the car, very excited about taking a walk, doing some homework and going to sleep. Driving really takes it out of me. I walk inside and begin the process of checking in - my mind was already on my pillow.

Then, Mr. Hussein happened. My world was brought to a spinning halt and my forward progress ended... abruptly. He wouldn't sign the paper. He simply would not.

I was confused. As you probably are right now. I didn't understand what he didn't understand. Know what I mean?

Here's the thing. When I travel on military orders, my room is tax exempt. Kind of redundant to tax money that is already tax money... I have never had to argue that point with anyone. In fact, every motel that I have ever stayed at during my time as a trainer has always just made my stay tax deductible. However, should the situation arise that I was NOT granted tax exempt status, I needed to have the clerk sign a form that stated that they charged me tax on the room. I don't know why the form needs to be signed, I don't know why tax is just not automatically reimbursed to my account - I DO NOT KNOW NOR CARE ABOUT ANY OF THESE THINGS!! I just know that if I don't have that form signed by the hotel clerk, I have to pay the room tax out of my own pocket.

I don't want to pay the room tax.

He didn't want to sign the form.... at all...

Nor would he listen.

At first, SFC Taylor (My assistant) tried to reason with him. He just kept saying no and indicating that he had already given us a deal by giving us the government rate and we should be happy with that. I just stared. I was in my own little world. It was like I was standing there, going through the motions of handing him my card and signing whatever release was shoved at me but in my mind I was already calling Sara, checking email... sleeping....

Then this annoying voice kept getting louder and louder...

"Why should I sign? Hmm?? Tell me why I should sign? You need the stamp from the State Department, you need the letter from the State Department, you need the seal from the State Department..."

I awoke from my stupor.

"We are not from the State Department, we're not from the State of Illinois at all, we're in the Army and we're from Georgia, this has nothing to do with the State department!!"

"Tell my why I should sign the form??"

I jumped in, "because if you don't sign the form, I have to pay the tax on this room. All you are doing is stating that you are charging us tax on this room!"

"I cannot sign nothing. I will not sign anything"

I reached deep in myself and pulled out my most chaplaineque voice.

"Mr. Hussein, I am sorry that we are not understanding each other, I don't know why the government requires this but they do and I need..."

"Tell me why I should sign!"

"If you will give me a moment, I am try..."

"Tell me why I should sign!!"

"Becau..."

"I will sign nothing!!"

Now, I'm cool with just about everything and I have a long fuse, but I HATE with a PASSION being interrupted!

"Mr. Hussein, I need to speak with the manager."

"I am trained in everything. I will assist you. I do not care.."

"I know you do not care - you have established that. I do not wish to speak with you, I wish to speak with you manager."

I know how these things go and I was done with him. I could feel my anger reaching the boiling point and I as not going to gratify this jerk by showing him my emotions.

"Just let me speak with your manager"

"No, I am the manager on duty."

"Are you the manager"

"I am trained to be the manager on duty"

"So... no, your not the manager. I wish to speak with him."

On and on it went. I was aghast! I literally ran out of words - kinda difficult for someone of my temperament. There was NO reasoning with this guy. I called and complained to Super 8 Central - they logged my complaint and told me that they would get back with me in 7 business days. Whatever. I was floored.

What was most interesting to me was how I reacted to the problem. On the outside, I was calm, I tried reasoning with the guy but he would just get loud and cut me off. This was infuriating. I wanted to choke him. I literally looked at him and imagined myself flying over the desk, executing a clean "LINES" maneuver on him - he would be dead before he hit the floor. But he was a small man, with a even smaller brain and that was not working for me. I would just end up in jail and have to explain this to my Commander and all the rest... (You know how you have instant thoughts like this and come to flash decisions etc? It was that kind of surreal moment.) I could not just go to another hotel because it was late and the rooms would be booked - if they weren't, I would not be able to get the correct rate - and if I didn't get that then I had to pay the difference and that was a NO GO!

Then I had the most interesting reaction. I reacted to his race. I don't know if it was just his name or if I have met his kin but as far as I knew he was Arab and I found myself wanting to scream at him that I had gone to his country, protected his people, helped them, sacrificed for them, picked up my brothers from his dirt, suffered and for this??

It was illogical. He was not Iraqi. And even if he was, it still didn't make sense. I was just thinking rash thoughts. But they were there all the same. I found myself hating this man, his accent, his ethnicity, his faith, his smell, his representation of America - I hated him.

In that moment, I experienced hate.

It has only been a few times in my life that I have "hated" someone. This was one. I suppose I could look deep in my heart and explore the reasons for this - the deployment, the death, the angst... whatever - in that moment, I was capable of just about anything.

We all are.

We all have, as Solzhenitsyn pointed out, that line of good and evil that runs through us all. We are all capable of hate and extreme anger. We are all capable of every evil that has been cooked up in this world. We are all susceptible to baser instincts. To put it anther way, we are all susceptible to great sin.

"Pop" as he was called, Mr. Hussein, as his name tag ran, taught me more about myself last night. He taught me that no matter how far I get spiritually, no matter how much closer I get to Christ - I am in a constant battle. I am constantly having to ward off the sin that would so easily beset me. I have to constantly be aware that am as capable of sin as the next man.

This sounds much graver than it was. Those feelings came and went in a matter of seconds. That's the thing about being a Christian, we have the Holy Spirit to help us work through such events. In the end, I logged my complaint with the company, swore I would never stay there again, and got on with my life.

I love Wisconsin. And Michigan. And just about anywhere but Urbana, IL. My luck, I'll probably have to go back and work there some day....