"Hey, Mom?"

I'm trying my best to get into the habit of putting everything that comes into my mind about this trip onto this blog, especially now that I'm starting to tell people I'm keeping it.

One thing people always ask is, Are your parents freaking out?

Answer: Probably. As I mentioned the other day, this is not the same thing as going to war. I am 100% free of worry that something is going to happen to me. But, at the same time, I can understand why my folks, who of course were primarily happy that I was going to get to go on an adventure, and other well-wishers would be a little queasy.

This hasn't stopped Al from exercising his impulse towards macabre humor. He's been writing thank-you letters for the PAC, and he's been signing them with some variation of See you in the New Year -- IF I make it back! People generally find this less funny than we do.

But, seriously, this is not Andy Goes To War.

The reason we're pretty safe is that we're mostly spending our time on the bases. We do travel from place to place on helicopters, which is probably going to be the nerve-wracking part. Those suckers move fast, and it's not just for purposes of getting to our destination as quickly as possible.

The challenge for me is going to be figuring out exactly what I'm supposed to do. I'm sure Al and I will work on writing the show on the way over, and I'm sure I'll have a backstage role in the show itself. But it seems like the biggest thing I can do is just to have a conversation with soldiers that isn't about death and war and chaos. I can talk football. I can eat breakfast with some guys. I have a story to tell that isn't the same one they've been hearing from their bunkmates forever. Oddly, that's where I think I'm most useful here.

Unless, of course, Darryl Worley's drummer gets sick.