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**LordofHats**

Very interesting story (source is Yahoo!)

College student Chris Jeon hungered for "real" experience... so he joined a revolution

HIS PLANE TOUCHED down in Cairo on Aug. 23, 2011. School didn't start again for another month, and Chris Jeon, a 21-year-old UCLA math major, had told his parents he was going sightseeing in Egypt. What he didn't tell them was that he had decided to fight with the Libyan rebels against Muammar al-Qaddafi. He wanted to see something historic, he told friends. His $9,000-a-month internship at BlackRock, one of the world's largest asset management firms, bored him. After 12- to 18-hour days in his cubicle, Jeon felt like he was dying. He packed one pair of jeans, three shirts, a leather jacket, a pair of Converse, and two condoms. He hopped a bus in Cairo and headed for Saloum, on the Egyptian-Libyan border.

The rebels guarding the border were playing FIFA soccer on a PlayStation when he arrived. Jeon waved at them. They glanced at his passport and went back to their video game. "Okay, cool," Jeon said, and simply walked into Libya.

It looked like the moon: empty, burnt-brown desert stretching for mile after mile. The front lines were 500 miles to the west, and Jeon, the son of successful Korean immigrants, didn't speak Arabic and hadn't done much research on the region. He'd read the Wikipedia page on Libya and watched a bunch of YouTube videos documenting the war. He particularly liked one that showed a group of rebels chanting in unison after a victory — he'd never felt that fired up about anything. A year before, in search of "real" experience he and a friend had spent spring break surviving on the streets of Seattle with $1 in their pockets. Jeon did another "dollar trip" to Las Vegas. For Jeon, living outside the "bubble" of UCLA was a revelation.

In early September he finally managed to get a ride to an oil refinery close to the front lines. Pickup trucks mounted with rocket launchers streamed out of the complex, heading west. Tripoli had fallen, but Qaddafi was still at large and unbowed. On the radio that day, he vowed to fight a "long, drawn-out war."

Qaddafi's loyalists had concentrated their firepower in the central coastal region, near his hometown of Sirte, the city the rebels were heading for. As they rolled out of the refinery, each truck blasted a different song: Tupac bled into high-pitched Arabic music followed by the Scorpions. The men onboard wore green camo with red-checkered kaffiyehs over their faces. One of the trucks stopped, and a young rebel stuck his head out of the window.

"Jackie Chan!" he shouted at Jeon and swung the back door open.

"Holy s---, this is really happening," Jeon thought as he squeezed in among the men, the RPGs, and the AK-47s. Nobody asked who he was or why he was there. They just handed him a grenade, some earplugs, and a cigarette. Twenty minutes later, they stopped on the side of the road, where a clump of pickups stood in the open desert. Suddenly, a shell landed nearby and sent a huge plume of dirt into the air. The rebels in Jeon's car leaped out of the cab, returning fire with the .50-caliber machine gun mounted on the bed of their truck. Others fired cannons and launched rockets. There was no coordination. Everybody just let loose with every weapon they had, aiming in the general direction of the incoming fire.

Shells rained down around them. The rebels panicked, scrambling to get into their vehicles. As they sped away, one of the rebels put his hand on Jeon's chest and felt his heart thudding heavily. Everybody glanced at Jeon and laughed. He looked terrified.

"Where you stay?" the rebel asked.

"Nowhere," Jeon replied.

"No problem," he said. "You stay with us tonight."

TWO DAYS LATER, Cmdr. Absalam gave Jeon an Arabic name, Ahmed, and the next day a rebel gave him a Russian shotgun. The kid was no longer an observer. He was becoming part of the katiba, the Libyan word for brigade. He still didn't speak much Arabic, but that didn't seem to matter. There was a cheap Casio keyboard in the town house where they stayed, and when they weren't on patrol, Jeon taught a skinny 17-year-old named Akram how to play Beethoven. Akram showed him how to assemble and break down an AK-47. After two days, the Casio was covered in gun grease, but Akram could play "Für Elise" and Jeon could field-strip the gun in less than 90 seconds.

Akram explained that Libya under Qaddafi was hell. A few months earlier, his cousin had spoken out against the dictator and had been executed. "I am fighting for my cousin, for my family, for my country," Akram said. "I have no fear because death would be better than living the old way."

A couple of days later, the katiba drove into the desert and fired cannons at loyalist positions. Jeon helped load the ammunition. "My lips were cracked and bleeding, I hadn't brushed my teeth in days, and my face was peeling, but it didn't matter," Jeon says. "I was totally happy — happier than I'd ever been."

He was standing beside a truck, watching his friends fire the cannons, when he heard the whine of an incoming shell. Everybody dove for cover, and the ground shook. Sand rained down, and somebody screamed. When he finally stood, he saw a mangled, charred body lying near the blast. It was Akram.

He stared at the body. Just a few nights before, Akram had played "Für Elise," jumping up and down when he did it without a mistake. He was only 17. "Those f---ers," Jeon kept saying.

That afternoon, at a rebel checkpoint in the desert, Jeon saw three trucks appear out of the heat shimmering off the road to the west. They were moving fast, inbound from Qaddafi-held territory. The rebels around him picked up their weapons, cigarettes dangling from their mouths.

As the trucks approached, Jeon saw someone lean out one of the windows with a gun. It seemed surreal, like a mirage in the desert heat. The rebels around him started yelling, and he heard bullets whiz past. They were under attack.

"Motherf---er," Jeon hissed, grabbing an AK-47 out of the bed of a truck. He knew how to assemble and disassemble the gun but had yet to fire it in battle. Now he could see the faces of the loyalist forces as they drove off-road, circling the rebels and strafing the checkpoint. He flipped the safety off.

A bullet pierced the leg of a man next to him. The screaming was buried underneath the report of automatic weapons. Jeon was breathing fast. He popped up from behind his vehicle, took aim, and fired at one of the circling trucks. The gun jerked wildly, and he ran out of bullets. He loaded another clip. This time, when he squeezed the trigger, he saw the passenger's head snap back — blood splattered the inside of the car.

After another volley, the attackers sped back to the west, and it was quiet again, except for the growls of the wounded. One of the rebels walked up to Jeon and slapped him on the back.

"You are Libyan now," the man said.

CHRIS JEON DECIDED to return to California the day after his first battle, a changed young man. He was scheduled for a full load of classes in the fall semester of his senior year — linear algebra, differential equations, game theory — but by November, he'd lost interest in math and almost everything else he used to care about. He slept during the day and stayed up late so he could talk to his Libyan friends on Skype. By spring break, he'd decided to go back, and I went with him.

The sun is setting in Benghazi when we touch down, in April. That night, we walk to Freedom Square, where the revolution started. The buildings around the square are lined with oversize photos of rebels who died in the war, which ended just five months ago. A group of men approach and ask where we are from. When Jeon introduces himself, they throw their arms up, shout, and embrace him. They had heard the stories of the Asian kid from L.A. who had fought on their behalf.

"He is famous here," Mohammed Al Zawwam tells me, explaining that rebel fighters had spread Jeon's story. Al Zawwam, a 28-year-old youth organizer, gets choked up the more he talks. "I don't have words to describe how I feel about what he did. He was fighting very bravely for us. He is amazing."

The next night, Jeon reunites with five of his rebel friends at a second-floor hookah café on the outskirts of Benghazi. "We thought American people didn't care about Libya," says Ebrahem Benamer, a 23-year-old rebel with a soul patch, "but after we met Ahmed, we realized we were wrong."

When the hookahs are smoked through, Jeon gets antsy. He's heard there's an informal "drifting" competition in the square, and he wants to check it out. When we arrive, four cars whip past us, skidding sideways. Benamer wants to give it a try in his pickup truck, which is still emblazoned with the spray-painted logo of his brigade. He honks his way through the crowd, stomps on the accelerator, and starts fishtailing across the square. When he comes to a stop near us, Jeon, dressed in a goofy T-shirt, yanks open the back door and leaps in. I follow him.

Benamer peels away before I even shut the door. As I struggle to close it, I notice his AK-47 rattling on the floor. It looks like it's loaded. "Libya drift 2012!" Jeon shouts. He's filming himself with a pocket camera. Benamer spins the wheel, forcing the car into long, semi-controlled skids, and then accelerates. We spin sideways at about 40 mph, heeling up on two wheels before the truck crashes on its side.

In seconds, Jeon is standing on the overturned pickup screaming, "Libya is great!" Ten minutes later, the car is surrounded by men with machine guns. They are accusing us of being with the CIA, but my translator is sure they just want to rob us.

"These are very bad people," he says. "They are going to take us into the desert, and we will not come back."

I can see some crumbled buildings 50 yards away. Maybe we can make a run for it. I look over at Jeon and see him smiling. "Dude, are you scared?" he asks, laughing. "You look scared."

Another truck of armed militiamen pulls up, and the new arrivals begin arguing with our captors. We are driven to a militia compound, where the argument continues for hours. Finally, near dawn, we are released with no explanation.

Back at the hotel, Jeon is ecstatic. We all are. I am still worried that a militia might track us down at the hotel, but I also feel the rush of being free. It's 6 in the morning, and I'm not tired at all. In fact, I feel enormously alive.

"You see what I'm saying about Libya?" Jeon asks me. "It's amazing."

He says he craves the instability. "It's the total opposite of what I was doing before," he says. It forces him to take nothing for granted, to live in the moment. I can see the logic, but I still want to get the hell out of here. I book a ticket to Istanbul departing the next night.

As I'm checking out, I see Jeon in the lobby. He's heard about some fishermen nearby who throw explosives into the water and then scoop up the fish that float to the surface.

"I'm going to give it a try," he says, brightly. "I just have to find someone who will sell me some dynamite."

Don't know if the kid is an idiot, lucky as hell, or just plain ballsy.

**juraigamer**

Props to him.

**Testify**

I know I'm not the only guy in England waiting for more riots.

I don't care if i'm one of the looters or one of the vigilante mob, just something interesting damnit.

**Jihadin**

Amateur

**LordofHats**

Must be interesting country if a guy just walking around gets invited into a truck full of dudes with RPG's and is handed a hand grenade XD

The real shocker for me reading this though is that he went back and seemingly (as the story ends anyway) stays.

**daedalus**

Testify wrote:
I know I'm not the only guy in England waiting for more riots.

I don't care if i'm one of the looters or one of the vigilante mob, just something interesting damnit.

"I do not care if it is good fortune or bad fortune, so long as I am entertained."

Automatically Appended Next Post:

Jihadin wrote:
Amateur

Literally.

**Chongara**

How in the world do you get bored in college, with access to $9,000 a month? Dude clearly has a no idea how to have a good time.

**Albatross**

Testify wrote:
I know I'm not the only guy in England waiting for more riots.

I don't care if i'm one of the looters or one of the vigilante mob, just something interesting damnit.

You could always just grow up and get a life. Is this really what the western world has come to? Revolution tourism? Are we really that paralysed with ennui?

**Ratbarf**

You could always just grow up and get a life. Is this really what the western world has come to? Revolution tourism? Are we really that paralysed with ennui?

Yes, the most dangerous thing people do around here is cross the street.

**Cheesecat**

Ratbarf wrote:
You could always just grow up and get a life. Is this really what the western world has come to? Revolution tourism? Are we really that paralysed with ennui?

Yes, the most dangerous thing people do around here is cross the street.

Not if you obey the signs.

**Ratbarf**

Not if you obey the signs.

But who actually does that? And the next dangerous thing is probably eating.... Never can tell when you're going to choke.

**Cheesecat**

Ratbarf wrote:
Not if you obey the signs.

But who actually does that? And the next dangerous thing is probably eating.... Never can tell when you're going to choke.

At first I thought you were making a joke, but there probably is stats saying the most dangerous thing in Canada is crossing the streets (after polar bears invading southern Canada while using global warming as a way to get nature scientists to help bolster there numbers of course).

**daedalus**

Wait, that worked? The polar bear conspiracy to use global warming as a platform for spawning an army was taken seriously by the Cannucks?

This is serious. This is real. We've got all that Red Alert experience. We can help. We need intel though before we know where to strike? Have they already taken the Maple Syrup Reserve? How is the backbacon industry? Can you still get two-liters of beer?

We need to know these things.

**sebster**

You get one or two of these in every time there's some serious national chaos somewhere in the world. I don't really get it.

**Cheesecat**

daedalus wrote:
Wait, that worked? The polar bear conspiracy to use global warming as a platform for spawning an army was taken seriously by the Cannucks?

This is serious. This is real. We've got all that Red Alert experience. We can help. We need intel though before we know where to strike? Have they already taken the Maple Syrup Reserve? How is the backbacon industry? Can you still get two-liters of beer?

We need to know these things.

Also polar bears pretend they're going south because of Global warming but I know it's all lies, first Canada then the world!

**azazel the cat**

@OP: you forgot option C: make stuff up

Am I seriously going to be the first one to call bs on this story?

Here's how I think this went down:

Kid talks about going on an adventure to Libya all the girls in class, then goes camping for a week. Kid returns with a fantastic tale about how he was immediately welcomed and armed by Libya freedom fighters, then found himself under fire, while staying calm and awesome the whole time. Then he comes back to class, and there are a lot of dumb girls eager to believe this kid's epic bar story. This kid's friend sees how well this pickup line is working, and asks to go on the kid's next adventure. So the two of them go camping together. They both return, with the friend now spreading the fantastic tale of how the Libyans recognize the kid as the icon that proves America wants to, like, totally, like, help and stuff, and then the two of 'em find comfort in the open arms of a lot of dumb girls eager to believe the story.

Seriously, the kid claims the first time he ever picked up an assault rifle, he was able to keep calm while under fire and land a headshot on a moving target from the back of a moving truck, before teaching the Libyans Mozart and being accepted as the paragon of American virtue. The only thing this bs story is lacking is the kid training some monkey butlers to help clean the mansion he won in a duel, and I bet his next trip to Libya involves him strapping a fire hose to his waist and jumping off of the roof of a skyscraper to avoid an explosion.

**daedalus**

azazel the cat wrote:
Speculation

Well, when you phrase it that way, it reminds me of the kinds of things a guy I knew in college used to claim. Usually at the coffee shop whilst we where surrounded by people (specifically women). I meant to throat-punch him, but sadly never got the chance to do so.

(WARNING: I AM MAKING ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT ANOTHER LIVING INDIVIDUAL. THIS ASSUMPTIONS MIGHT NOT BE FOUNDED BUT ARE BASED UPON MY OWN gakky WORLD VIEW. I'VE FOUND THIS IS A STANDARD DISCLAIMER THAT SHOULDN'T BE REQUIRED, YET HERE WE ARE.)

**deathholydeath**

Here's the full article. With pictures n' stuff.
http://www.mensjournal.com/magazine/arab-spring-break-20120913?page=1

**AlexHolker**

azazel the cat wrote:
Seriously, the kid claims the first time he ever picked up an assault rifle, he was able to keep calm while under fire and land a headshot on a moving target from the back of a moving truck...

One headshot out of sixty. That seems reasonable.

**daedalus**

OMG we're making assumptions about a MALE without necessarily having provable facts illustrating that our assumptions are valid in the highest courts of opinion that could possibly exist. WE ARE CLEARLY FEMINISTS.

Thank god this guy wasn't a chick. This thread would be twenty pages long already.

**KalashnikovMarine**

I remember when this story when Libya was still the "hot" revolution.

I believe the one word summery from me and most of my buddies was "idiot"

**Decio**

azazel the cat wrote:
@OP: you forgot option C: make stuff up

Am I seriously going to be the first one to call bs on this story?

Here's how I think this went down:

Kid talks about going on an adventure to Libya all the girls in class, then goes camping for a week. Kid returns with a fantastic tale about how he was immediately welcomed and armed by Libya freedom fighters, then found himself under fire, while staying calm and awesome the whole time. Then he comes back to class, and there are a lot of dumb girls eager to believe this kid's epic bar story. This kid's friend sees how well this pickup line is working, and asks to go on the kid's next adventure. So the two of them go camping together. They both return, with the friend now spreading the fantastic tale of how the Libyans recognize the kid as the icon that proves America wants to, like, totally, like, help and stuff, and then the two of 'em find comfort in the open arms of a lot of dumb girls eager to believe the story.

Seriously, the kid claims the first time he ever picked up an assault rifle, he was able to keep calm while under fire and land a headshot on a moving target from the back of a moving truck, before teaching the Libyans Mozart and being accepted as the paragon of American virtue. The only thing this bs story is lacking is the kid training some monkey butlers to help clean the mansion he won in a duel, and I bet his next trip to Libya involves him strapping a fire hose to his waist and jumping off of the roof of a skyscraper to avoid an explosion.

Google it. Read everything before posting.

Personally, I think that was random as heck. I'd get a job at a FLGS or something as a side-job (lol) but having a big job like that would be pretty cool. $9000 a month, but 12-18 hours. Even so, he could have had more discipline. Every thing else is pretty ballsy to me.

**SilverMK2**

Good job he didn't go to fight against the americans in afganistan or this thread would be entirely different...

**deathholydeath**

SilverMK2 wrote:
Good job he didn't go to fight against the americans in afganistan or this thread would be entirely different...

If you're going to go revolution touring, it's really best not to do it against your own government. I mean, assuming you plan on coming back home after the vacation.

**azazel the cat**

So far I've seen lots of pictures of him standing around with people, so I'll believe that he went to Libya. But the running & gunning part still sounds made-up to me, and I'll believe it when that is at least collaborated by some real journalists. All in all, I'm just getting a very Frank Dux-esque vibe to it.

I remain very skeptical, however, if I have to eat crow over this, I'll do so willingly.

**SilverMK2**

deathholydeath wrote:
SilverMK2 wrote:
Good job he didn't go to fight against the americans in afganistan or this thread would be entirely different...

If you're going to go revolution touring, it's really best not to do it against your own government. I mean, assuming you plan on coming back home after the vacation.

Just so long as the people he killed/help kill were not draped in the red, white and blue, eh?

**Ahtman**

I imagine that it is very different joining in a, essentially, random revolution for funsies, and fighting against your own government. It doesn't seem like a difficult distinction. One makes him foolish and lucky, the other would make him a prisoner in Guantanamo, and that is if he is lucky. I'm willing to bet our guys wouldn't be as ill equipped or trained as the ones he supposedly faced off against.

Frank Dux sounds about right, though I was thinking more Stephen Glass. Either works, though one got played by JCVD and the other by Anakin Skywalker, so I think Dux may have the edge.

**master of ordinance**

Testify wrote:
I know I'm not the only guy in England waiting for more riots.

I don't care if i'm one of the looters or one of the vigilante mob, just something interesting damnit.

Your not the only one. The very air is stagnating with bordom around here. Maybe this time we will take parlament and start getting rid of these crappy and unneccassary health and safety laws that make life such a drag....

**Leigen_Zero**

Chongara wrote:How in the world do you get bored in college, with access to $9,000 a month? Dude clearly has a no idea how to have a good time.

Albatross wrote:
Testify wrote:
I know I'm not the only guy in England waiting for more riots.

I don't care if i'm one of the looters or one of the vigilante mob, just something interesting damnit.

You could always just grow up and get a life. Is this really what the western world has come to? Revolution tourism? Are we really that paralysed with ennui?

I think I will quote part of the original story:

After 12- to 18-hour days in his cubicle, Jeon felt like he was dying.

Currently, even though I'm not doing 12-18hour days, my life seems to revolve around get up - work - sleep, no time and/or money to go out and enjoy myself or purchase luxuries that would make my pitiful existence more bearable, Seriously sometime when I leave the office I hope the zombie apocalypse has started, because at least it'll be a decent break in routine...

**htj**

Routine can be boring if you let it consume you, but I'd take that over having a zombie consume me any day. Living in a state of constant fear doesn't appeal, frankly.

I sympathise if you hate your job, and god knows I sympathise about being low of funds (currently in a six-month temporary position earning £13,000 a year total household earnings for two people) but I still find time to enjoy my life, and even careful marshal my finances so that I can treat myself once in a while. Willing for violence to roam the streets just so that YOU are not bored, hoping for something that will ruin the lives of thousands, or kill even more, just because you're having difficulty cheering yourself up? I can't get behind that, sorry.