How'd you like to be the DHL pilot whose loving his Iraqi gig (fig wine and doe-eyed Iraqi women, dontcha know), taking off from Bush Int'l when some Syrian asshole decides to ventilate your left wing with a rust-covered Soviet SAM?  What a rush.  Maybe if Salam Pax wasn't beating off in a Heathrow men's room stall, he could stop by and help patch up the wing.