The right badge is everything in Iraq. Some badges will get you in any building. Others won’t get you anywhere.

Before I could start my embed, I had to report to the Combined Press Information Center in Baghdad so I could get a press ID. That isn’t difficult, but it takes a mountain of patience. Here’s a recap of my four-day quest for a press badge:

Monday
I looked out the window of my airplane for my first glimpse of the Middle East. It wasn’t much: Many of the buildings appear as brown as the land, and a thick cloud of dust blurred out the horizon.

I walked off the plane. Cigarette smoke reached the walkway before I stepped into the terminal. Arabs wearing dishdashas and Americans sporting a lanyard displaying their Department of Defense civilian contractor card both ignored the no smoking signs posted around the airport.

The wait for a visa took more than an hour. The Arabs on our flight had left, leaving dozens of Americans standing around an undersized waiting area. They passed the time in one of four ways: smoked, complain about how bad the wait was, compared stories about their last trip to Kuwait or stared blankly into the distance.

After 90 minutes, immigration agents in crisp blue uniforms asked a few cursory questions, took their fee and stamped my passport. I found my luggage downstairs and passed through customs, where another agent in a crisp blue uniform didn’t bother to look at my passport. He grunted and waved me through.

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