Sandstorms

One of my least favorite things about Iraq (and there was a bunch of them) was the sandstorms.  When they hit, it was like everything stopped.  We weren't able to fly in them, so it meant that work slowed way down.  When work slows down, so did time... 

It didn't seem to matter how well something was sealed or buckled up, sand still got into everywhere.  If you walked outside even for a minute, you felt like you had just eaten a cupful of sand and attempting to wash your hair after one ended up with more of a mud mask than actually getting things clean.  Couple the wind and sand with the extreme temperatures and sweating, no stone was left unturned on placed you would find this stuff. 

Even when you were inside of a building, just from people opening the doors to go outside would let in enough so there was a 'fog' in the hallways.  For days after, you would continue to find all the little nooks and crannies that the sand had found it's way into.  It just added another aspect of unpleseantness to the already sucky situation...