Pizza Quest

This is me, a couple of days ago, standing in front of what is widely considered to be the best joint for Calzones and Strombolis on Victory Base Complex: North End Pizza.


The pizza is reportedly not even as good as Pizza Hut (and Pizza Hut is a lot closer to where I am), but I had a couple slices and it was pretty good for the middle of Iraq. The interesting part isn't really the pizza though - it's how my friend and I got to North End Pizza after 45 minutes, a lost hat, good directions we didn't follow, and a sigh of relief the place took credit cards ...

It all began with Sergeant First Class Joshua Crews asking me if I had gone to eat around lunchtime. If I hadn't, he said, he reserved the Ford Explorer for our section (there's an online calendar where you can check it out) and was headed for the "famous" North End Pizza. I had only seen the place one time, and I didn't even eat that time; one of the guys I replaced took me on a tour of all the small bazaar shops and secret hajji shacks where you can buy iPhone clones, copied movies, Asian soft drinks, and knock-off Nike shoes all under the same roof. I thought it would be a welcome change from the dining facility, even one like we have (see Autumn's post on Surf 'n Turf ...). Sergeant Crews asked if I knew where it was two seconds before I was going to ask him the same thing. Ugh. It couldn't be that hard to find, not the "famous" North End Pizza, could it?

We got in the truck and started out for Camp Liberty, connected to Camp Victory by a short road, all within the main wall for Victory Base Complex (or VBC for short). VBC is a consolidated base made out of six smaller bases and the Baghdad airport, after they grew so much it was easier just to join up their outer walls and make it one huge wall. We stowed our weapons in the back seat, and I rolled up my Boonie hat on my lap. In the five minutes or so it takes to get there, we concurred that we should start by the PX (department store on Army bases) since we both recalled it not being too far from there. There would also be lots of people to ask, of course.

5 minutes in: When we got to the four-way intersection by the PX parking lot, we picked a direction and went for it. 200 yards later, we seemed to be headed out to a wasteland of gravel and parked armored vehicles - no pizza joints here. As we turned around, we came upon a soldier and thought it would be prudent to ask for directions - my window wasn't working, so it must have looked strange to see an SUV roll up with the door opening! The soldier had just gotten here himself, and had never heard of the place. We recommended it, I closed the door and we moved on.

10 minutes in: Back to the 4-way intersection, we took the opposite direction we took before and traveled a mile or two. This time, we were well within habitable areas, with offices and soldiers walking everywhere (surrounded by concrete barriers, but recognizable nonetheless). Still, no restaurants. After a few minutes, we went back to the intersection and entered the PX parking lot. There was one more possible way from the 4-way intersection, but we asked for directions again, this time from a civilian who looked like he'd spent a couple tours over here already.

"North End Pizza? Of course! It's right over there - go back the way you just came, veer right, look for Pad 12, turn right off the road after the MWR (*Morale, Welfare, and Recreation) facility, follow the wall of trailers around to the motor pool, keep left, and you'll see the sign ..."

Whew! We thanked him and he wished us luck. I asked Sergeant Crews if he knew whether North End took credit cards. He didn't know, but only had them to pay with himself. Cash over here is difficult to get, and the military would really rather you pay with a declining balance card you get when you first arrive. Everyone took the declining balance card, but you were rolling the dice with credit and even cash. If we finally managed to find this place but they didn't take credit, it would be a half-hour round trip to the finance office to get cash or recharge our cards at a kiosk, which we both knew meant we were just going to drive to the dining facility and eat sliced melon.

25 minutes in: Ok, we had the directions up to "veer right", and I say that because when we went back this second time, we didn't do that. After bouncing around some more off road, we asked a THIRD time for directions, to which we got a fairly accurate response ... just as I checked for my hat. It was gone! Not good! You need a specific hat when you are in uniform, and there are people who walk around with nothing to do but write asinine policy, parking tickets, and correct you on your uniform. I thought about where it could have been lost; I know I rolled it up on my lap when I got in. Then, we went to the 4-way, then I ... opened ... the ... door ... . Sergeant Crews asked me if I wanted to go back, and I thought about it until he asked again. Hat first, or pizza first? On the one hand, we were almost there, but on the other, anyone could pick up that hat and I would be without one until I got somewhere I could buy one, and we were already going to be late getting back from lunch.

35 minutes in: We must have driven by 4 pads already, and woven through all of the possible streets, such as they were, looking for the phantom sign that we could use to navigate to the life-giving pizza. I regretted not going back for the hat a little, but I figured I risked losing it either way and there was no sense in getting yelled at for a stupid hat on an empty stomach. Besides, I'm a Chief Warrant Officer, and if you don't get yelled at for something like that at least once a week, you don't get promoted on time (or so our reputation would have you believe). We rounded a corner from one of the small side trails, looked up and saw it ... NORTH END PIZZA! There was a short moment of silence as we approached the sign, high enough above the concrete barriers to see from where we were, to check for the familiar Mastercard, Visa, or Amex logos ... and there they were, like three financial pepperoni squares on a delicious slice of victory (small V).

45 minutes in: "Sergeant Crews, would you mind taking my picture in front of the menu here? I want to post it on the blog ..."

We got it to go. A couple soldiers came and also placed an order, and we all stood around for another awkward silence as I got the "eye" from the senior sergeant in their group for standing around without a hat. The order came eventually, and when Sergeant Crews got his, we went back to the initial stop for directions to find a car where we pulled in. Ugh again. My hat was probably under a tire, if not halfway to Camp Victory, tumbling like a tumbleweed in Tombstone. I walked around to the front of the car to find the hat on the ground, against my expectations but making me feel pretty good about not detouring back and ending up being beaten by an obscure pizza joint!

1 hour in: We headed back and clocked in at around an hour and ten or an hour and fifteen minutes, still with uneaten food in hand. We got the "where the hell have you guys been??". I briefly considered telling the whole story, but we gave them a more believable one:

"We were bored of sitting in here, so we cruised around Camp Liberty, wasting gas and going to the hajji shops ..."