My kind of town, Frank!

Hello from Chicago,
Well actually I'm back from the windy city, location of the Nato summit, and now reimmersed in sweltering humid Washington. They say that Chicago in the winter is like Kabul. For those of you who haven't tasted the delights of Kabul in winter I can tell you it's mighty cold. But Chicago in May is warm, and it's a pretty city. The only time I visited Chicago before was way back when Tony Blair was PM and I flew with him to Chicago before going on to the Washington Nato summit. You see, I'm a real Nato summit afficiniado. Truth be told, I've covered nearly every summit since 19..! Blair, in his usual fashion, delivered a speech - for ever known as the Chicago speech - in which he pontificated about the need for the alliance to intervene around the world, especially Africa, wherever the need arose. Wow, that was some vision, and obviously beyond the capacity of the alliance then or now. Still, Mr Blair bless him had such wonderful visions, none of them quite reaching fulfillment. Anyway, I digress. This time the Nato summit was all about Afghanistan of course and I won't bother you with the details, but here are a few idol observations and incidents that kept me from going mad while trying to write the same story each day.

The summit coincided with the European Championship final between Chelsea and Bayern Munich. I kept an eager ear open and was then glued to my laptop when it reached the penalty shoot-out. A phenominal result, even for a QPR fan. Back in the hotel later that afternoon, I stepped into the lift all aglow with Chelsea's amazing achievement and was greeted by a couple who said: "Hi." Sounded distinctly English, so, still brimming with enthusiasm, I said: "So, Chelsea beat the Germans then!!" The woman turned to her husband and said: "Ich bin oulenzy zveniart donna und blizten." Or words to that effect. I don't speak German, so sorry to you clever German-speakers. But you get the idea. Hilarious. Straight out of Faulty Towers. Needless to say, the couple didn't talk to me for the journey upwards.

Another Faulty Towers scene: To get to the Media Centre to cover the Nato summit, you had to go through an elaborate security process at the hotel, involving alsations sniffing your laptop bag, while you had to exit the room with the dogs and go somewhere else to be personally examined before being reunited with your dog-approved laptop bag; and then entering a coach which drove down a back route alongside a railway line, guarded all the way by police until we arrived at the centre. That was fine, and quite sensible to do the security checks at the hotel and not at the media centre. But on the last day of the summit, I had a plane booked to return to Washington in the evening - a bit of a squeeze, but it would save The Times another hotel night. So I took my luggage down as well as my laptop bag.

Big beefy bloke: "No luggage."
"But I need to bring my luggage because I'm going straight from the media centre to the airport."
"No luggage."
"But..."
"The dogs don't do luggage."
"But if they can do my laptop, why can't they do luggage?"
"You have to leave your luggage with the concierge."
But I couldn't leave my laptop while I went off with my luggage.
I couldn't think straight. My only plan was to somehow bring my luggage and my laptop to the media centre at the same time. Perhaps they could security-check my luggage at the media centre. I went upstairs with my luggage and laptop bag, three escalators. I left the luggage temporarily with the concierge and returned downstairs - three escalators. I retrieved my now woof woof-approved laptop bag and went back upstairs to collect my luggage, brought both back down again and met the same beefy bloke.

 "Ok," I said,"my laptop's been done."
"No luggage."
"But, can I get it checked at the media centre?"
"We can't security-check your luggage here or anywhere."
"But...."
"I'm just the messenger."
"So I have to take my luggage upstairs again and leave it there? I have to come back to the hotel before I can go to the airport?"
"I'm just the messenger."
I set off back up the three escalators with my woof woof-approved laptop bag and my luggage, placed the luggage back with the concierge and returned, anger boiling up, to the beefy bloke.
"So can I go through to the coach, you've done my bag."
"Have you been upstairs with it?"
"Yes, but..."
"You've got to go through it all again."
"But... ok ok I know you're just the messenger."
The alsation said: "I've sniffed this one already, sunshine, what's the story?"
A shaggy dog story with a very annoying end.

Despite Obama waffling on endlessly at his mid-afternoon press conference, I managed to write a new second edition piece and head back to the hotel before finding a taxi for the airport, making the flight with 22 minutes to spare.
Woof woof! I'm still out of breath.

SHHH Big Pants Boys About

First a file from Guantanamo Bay, my third visit to the Caribbean detention centre, three eighteen-hour a day days to record the pre-trial hearing of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed and four others, all accused of helping the orchestrate the 9/11 attacks. Seeing them walk into the courtroom - with one notable exception who was brought in strapped to a "restraining chair" - made you think, these are the human beings accused of masterminding the most horrific terrorist attack in history. For most of the time, they sat in their chairs saying and doing nothing, but during the recess time they smiled and chatted and passed verbal messages down the row of chairs as if they didn't have a care in the world. How is it possible that people who allegedly believe in a supreme being can conjure up such hatred for others. They plotted to kill 2,976 people and brought down two symbolic skyscrapers - well allegedly, I supposed one should say. Anyway I was there to  record all the colour and drama for The Times which for those of you who are sensible enough to read the best newspaper in the world, will be already familiar, although as the hearing itself was on a Saturday, it meant my 1,500 words on what happened appeared Online, not in the paper. Such a shame, especially as I was the only British newspaper reporter who not only got a seat on the Pentagon plane to Guantanamo Bay - 60 out of more than 200 applicants - but then had my name drawn out of the hat for the 10 places inside the courtroom. It was a day to remember.

 Only one bit of the hearing was blotted out when the security officer in charge of such things thought one of the defense counsel said something which was deemed to be classified. Because there's a 40-second delay for the audio feed to reach those of us sitting in the public gallery behind a glass panel at the back of the court, we didn't hear The Great Secret, just a splurge of white noise. But after due thought by the Pentagon and co, it was decided that the blotted-out bit could be released after all. One of the defending lawyers said his client, the shifty one brought in in the restraining chair, couldn't hear what was going on in court because he didn't want to wear the headphones supplied by the court. This was because headphones had been used "by the big pants boys at the CIA" to torture him during interrogation. The words in quotes were the actual words of the lawyer. I wrote a blog for The Times about it and said that "the big pants boys at the Pentagon" had decided that these words were not classified. HO HO HO! So goodbye Guantanamo, until the next time. I'm now a veteran of the place. But unlike the inmates - 169 are still there - at least I get to leave. I can't see them ever being released, but if Obama gets reelected - definitely not guaranteed - he's going to have to turn his mind to Guantanamo. What to do with it, what to do with the detainees etc. I don't suppose Mitt Romney will give it a second thought, if he wins the White House. Just keep them, charged or uncharged.

Talking of politics, went to see the delightful Magic Exotic Marigold Hotel the other day, but first had to witness a strange incident which can only happen in the US of A. One of the ushers, an overweight shy boy, went to the front of the screen and started to speak. There were three people at the back of the front section and a huge number higher up behind them, none of whom could hear anything. The Fat Boy raised his voice a touch after being told to speak up, and then explained why he was happy for everyone to be there and thanked us that they had chosen this cinema to watch this film and that rival cinemas didn't have this film and that they chose rubbish films to show their customers, and he then said he wanted us all to get on. A clever spark shouted: "You should run for Congress". Everyone laughed into their popcorn. Fat Boy retreated.

Took a suit which I had bought for nothing in a charity shop - ok ok, but times are hard - to a repair shop to have it relined and the trousers taken out - well, come on, this is America, I've been on a burger,chips and everything with sugar diet!  Every dry cleaner and repair shop in Washington is run by Chinese. I asked the lady how much it would cost to take the trousers out an inch to make room for more burgers. The following conversation took place:

"..awty dollars."

"Forty dollars?!"

"..awty dollars."

"Forty dollars!!!"

"...awty dollars."

"Fourteen dollars?"

"..wenty dollars."

"Twenty dollars?"

"..wenty dollars."

"So, twenty dollars?"

"..wenty dollars."

I have no idea whether I misheard in the first place or whether we had engaged in a wonderful bargaining ritual. If the latter I did so in all innocence. But ..wenty dollars it was!

The race for the White House is now truly tedious. With all the potential rivals out of the way, Romney, the man whose wife has two Cadillacs and whose home has a car elevator, is not far behind Obama  who tells us how he has improved America's national security by sending in The Boys to do his dirty work, but then gets his sidekicks to leak all the operational details to the Los Angeles Times, New York Post, Washington Post and Miami Women's Journal etc, and then pretend he's aghast when the papers run amazing drama stories. I always remember Michael Portillo when he was Conservative Defence Secretary under Thatcher boasting at the annual Tory Party conference that he would send for the SAS if he wanted anything sorted. It didn't do his political standing any good and the SAS was thoroughly miffed at being exploited for political reasons. Obama should watch out. Anyway the US presidential campaign still has the rest of May, June, July, August, September, October and November to run, so it's going to be a long yawn, unless there is drama overseas. I'm off to the windy city - Chicago - for the Nato summit about Afghanistan where I'm sure Obama will declare that US troops are being pulled out "responsibly" after the thrashing of the Taleban. Mr Pootin, reinstated at the Kremlin, will be laughing. His lot - 150,000 Russian troops - left Afghanistan after thrashing everyone and no one, a total victorious defeat. Oooh, I'm getting over-cynical. I blame the burger diet.