The American Spectator

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Turns out my waiter will be joining his brother in San Francisco soon. The Sheraton hotel chain has sponsored his work visa and in three weeks he'll make the same transatlantic journey I just did, if for a very different reason. Somebody should get this guy up on Capitol Hill to testify when new immigrations measures are being debated.

"I cannot wait to work in America," he said, as a supervisor finally caught on and began waving wildly for him to come away. "It has been a dream for many years." As he jogged off he added in a shout, "Come to the morning buffet. It will please you and we can talk more of America!"

Thus, in a part of the world where everyone is supposed to hate us -- where, indeed, the entire population looks like a stock villain from [insert name of favorite 1980s action movie here] -- there is also love that borders on adulation and dreams of joining our country that approach a mythic grandeur.

As an American, the best part is in knowing the promise isn't a myth for those willing to believe in it. And many people do, despite the terrible drubbing we get in the world media. As difficult as it was to leave America (and my wife and dog), with considerable risk to life and limb, I cannot express what a privilege it is to meet such dreamers and to be about to witness the birth of a parliamentary democracy, however imperfect it may be, in Iraq. Problems are clearly legion, but hope springs eternal.

And that is what I found in Kuwait. Onward to Iraq.

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