The police officer was young, but not a rookie. He had been a cop for about five years. He was daily involved in things that most Americans think of as exciting, as proved by their voracious appetite for all those "real police" television shows. You would think he would consider his life interesting and exciting, but he didn't. He was becoming bored with his job as a cop.

We had worked together several years ago when he was still a rookie. I considered him to be a very able and professional police officer. But I knew that the day would come when he would go through "burn out". It is normal for burn out to happen to cops at about the fifth year of service. If they get through that, it will usually revisit them in the seventh year.

So, sitting in the cafe and sipping coffee, he had been asking me about all the places I had been and the international missions I had worked. We talked about my missions in Bosnia, Kosovo, Macedonia, Albania, and Kosovo again. We talked about my travels in Croatia, Serbia, Romania, Spain, Austria, and a few other places.

As would be expected with a young cop, he was rather excited by the stories of living and working in places where there were millions of land mines and where the nights were punctuated by machine gunfire and grenades. I noticed by the sparkle in his eyes that it all seemed thrilling and interesting to him. And my mind began to wander and to compare my life with his.

I thought about my first day as a cop, assigned to work in the jail. I remembered how anxious I was to get transferred to patrol and how excited I was when the transfer finally came through. I remembered how, after years in patrol, I became anxious to transfer to investigation. I remembered how thrilled I was when I finally got the chance to go to investigations. On and on, I remembered how each stage of my career was the most thrilling stage ever--for a while. Then I would become bored with it and desire something new, something a little more challenging.

As he talked, my mind continued comparing and thinking. I thought about how much I had wanted to move from local law enforcement to international law enforcement, and how excited I was when I was selected for my first international mission. Country after country, and assignment after assignment, I had gone through the same process: anxious to be selected, excited about being selected, bored with the mission, and anxious for the next mission. The cycle never ends.

He snapped me back into reality when he said, "You know, Kevin, I'd give my right arm to get to do all the things you have done. Man! You have a thrilling life!"

"Keep your right arm," I said, "and listen to me for a moment. Every place is someplace. Dirt is dirt in every country. Crime is crime in every place. Nothing is different at the bottom line. It is all the same."

He looked a little surprised. I guess he had thought I would share his sense of excitement about my life and work.

"Look," I said, "I have nothing more to be proud of than you have. You are a cop and I am a cop. We just happen to work in different places. When it is all said and done, the work is the same everywhere you go."

The price of living such a "thrilling" life, as he seemed to think I have, is very high. Living for a long period of time out of the country takes its toll on you. Working in war zones raises the price even more.

Maybe my life was thrilling to him, but "thrilling" has a completely different meaning to me. For me, being able to take a hot bath is thrilling because I have not always had water. Or if I have water, I do not always have electricity for heating it. That is another thrilling thing--electricity. I have spent night after night in the middle of Balkan blizzards without heat. He might think that's thrilling, but a warm room for a good night's sleep is thrilling to me.

For me, thrilling means not having to think that bombs, grenades, and gunfire in the night are normal. Thrilling means stores like Walmart and Kmart--I've lived where the only food in the stores for long periods of time was cabbage and potatoes. Don't misunderstand. I'm not complaining about cabbage and potatoes. I'm glad to get them, but it is thrilling when someone comes from the States and brings a bottle of Tobasco sauce for the cabbage.

I remember how thrilled I was in Brcko (Republika Srpska) when we finally got running water. Never mind the fact that it was brown. It was water! And you can't imagine how thrilled I was when I wandered across the border into Croatia and found avocados in a store. I had not even seen one for a year! Now, that was thrilling!

For me, thrilling means having a life that many Americans view as boring. Living and working in war zones had made this young cop's "boring life" look very thrilling to me.

I guess it is human nature to get bored with whatever becomes usual to us. However, I think when I finally get to return to America for good, it will be thrilling. I do not believe I can ever be bored again so long as I can take a hot bath, sleep in a warm room on a cold winter night, and eat avocados anytime I want. Now, that will be thrilling!

I must close this little article. The electricity has just gone off again and I don't want to run down the battery in my computer. I may need it later for something more thrilling.