I got stuck in yet another sandstorm while leaving Baghdad and had to spend the night at a logistics base near the airport terminal. The camp was populated by hundreds of sarong-wearing Malaysians, all squatting in small groups and offering a polite "hello sir" as the big, tall gringo passed by. For some reason the term "refugee camp" stuck in my head and and it made me laugh as the workers cooked their food, did their laundry and went about the myriad of daily tasks. Of course this wasn't a true refugee camp, but rather a workers' camp, but the similarities were not lost on me.
The weather cleared the next morning and I considered myself lucky to leave Baghdad on a beat-up 737 that was running, "inexplicably" four hours late. Tip from the top: don't even think about asking either the airport information desk or the airline personnel why the flight is delayed. To them it's not delayed if it takes off on the same day that it's scheduled to.