BAGHDAD – This city seems to attract a strange bunch of folks.

As I was waiting for the Rhino – that’s the armored bus that ferries folks between Victory Base Complex and the International Zone – I overheard a 20something with a bushy goatee and wraparound Oakley shades bragging about how cool it was to work for Blackwater, the private security firm.

Kinda weird, I thought: The guy didn’t have any sort of weapon on them. Usually the private security folks go out of their way to show off some super-expensive rifle that cost them three months’ salary.

As I walked behind him, I couldn’t help but notice that he had tucked a red lanyard under his shirt. I didn’t need to see what company he worked for (though I could see half of the letters), but the "security contractor" worked for KBR. He probably oversaw local Iraqis installing air conditioners.

Nearby, a couple of guys from Poland were trying to speak with a soldier in the blue camouflage of Turkey. Joes slept in the shade of a palm tree. Brits, apparently playing to well-known stereotypes, discussed soccer.

When the Rhinos pulled up – two ugly, boxy buses covered in black or tan armor – we went over the passenger manifest and filed in. I sat next to a member of the Australian military wearing a tan jumpsuit and sporting a patch from XVIII Airborne Corps (which is operating Multi-National Corps-Iraq). I introduced myself. He just kind of nodded, looked away and put in earplugs.

Ahh, Baghdad.