I woke up to the drone of my phone's alarm clock and tapped the screen: 7:05 a.m. Time to make some calls soon.

I snatched my iPad to check out the latest news in Egypt. I flipped through the virtual pages of the electronic newspaper I get every day and read that the Million Man March began today.

The Egyptians are organizing to incredible lengths; they are so organized that they are even keeping the streets clean, all done by volunteers who love their country.

"Time to make some calls," I thought.

First on the list, Mohammed in El-Mansoura. The city is the home to the Muslim Brotherhood and is playing a major role in the protests.

The phone rang, and he answered, with protestors in the background screaming, "Down with Mubarak! We want freedom!"

"Jamal, how are you?" Mohammed said.

"I'm fine, it's early," I said. "I can see you're out having fun, aren't you?"

"He has to go. The military has let us through and hasn't shot a single bullet at us. They are on our side. Mubarak is done. He is done."

"How's the city and its people?" I asked.

"We're all in this together," Mohammed said. "We must be united in order to kick this dictator out. We've shown him that we have the voice and the will to make him hide like a rat."

Three weeks ago I never would have heard such bold words from Mohammed. I knew he resented Mubarak, but to hear him speak of the president with such harshness?

Outrageous.

The protestors are winning. I can sense it just by the way people are talking. The military has clearly sided with the people, which is a gigantic victory for them and a devastating loss for Mubarak. Without his army to enforce his rule, he's defenseless.

Next on my list: Joe, from Al Minufiyah, a city nestled between Alexandria and Cairo. It's also noted as the birthplace of the late Anwar Sadat, who was assassinated in 1981. To Egyptians it is known as "the city of Sadat."

""Salam alaikum, Joe (Arabic for "peace be with you")," I said.

"Walaikum Assalam (And peace to you)," he replied.

"How are things in the city of Sadat?" I asked.

"Very quiet; not much is going on around here," he said. "I'm preparing to go to my uncle's house with the rest of the family to protect them and make sure no one breaks in. I'm still deciding if I should go to Cairo or not. But for now I have to stay here, since my father is away. I need to protect my family."

Quite a task for a young adult in his 20s: protecting his family, including his mother, younger sister and extended family of cousins, uncles, aunts and so forth.

If you're a man in the Middle East, that's what is expected of you. Joe is certainly living up to those expectations.

"I have a question for you, Jamal," he asked.

"Go ahead. Ask away," I replied.

"Your Arabic is not Egyptian. It sounds Khaleeji (the dialect of the Persian Gulf). Where did you learn?"

"My father is Kuwaiti, and my mother is American," I responded. "I grew up there for 15 years and went through Desert Storm when I was 5. I know what you're going through."

"Thanks for your concern, Jamal, I really appreciate it."

"Allah maak, (God be with you)," I told him before hanging up.

Next was a call to my mother, Marianne Durrell, who lives in Sharm El-Sheikh, a city situated on the tip of the Sinai. I can tell you this: When she's angry you'll know.

"The U.S. Embassy here is worthless, just worthless," she said. "They haven't called me once to even check if I was ok. Then I called up the stupid bastards, and what do I get? Some woman who acts like a bitch to me, and when I told her I was in Sharm, she sends me over to an automated phone service that tells me to e-mail them with questions. Hello, the Internet is down. How am I supposed to e-mail them?"

I chuckled a bit but held back, fearing I would infuriate my mother further. Her history with the U.S. embassies abroad is terrible, to put it lightly.

"They told us, 'Go to terminal 4 in Cairo,' and that was it. How in the hell am I supposed to get up there?" she said. "And don't they know it's dangerous to go from here to Cairo under these circumstances? What if I get to Cairo and no one is there? Then what? Sit there like a dummy?"

What really set her off is when the U.S. Embassy telephone operator told her that they would have to reimburse the government should they take be evacuated.

"What in the hell is the embassy here for if they won't do anything for the citizens who are here?" she said. "All they do is sit on their ass and collect money. That's it. That's where your tax money goes."

She has a point. During Desert Storm, the embassy told us that it couldn't evacuate us because she was married to a Kuwaiti and that we were our own.

If it weren't for my mother's aggressiveness, we probably never would have made it out. Now, the embassy does the same simply because she lives in a foreign country.

The Germans, British and other European countries are efficiently moving their citizens back home. Americans? We have to go through the embassy's bureaucracy in order to get home.

Here's a tip when you travel abroad: Register with the embassy but don't count on it to help you.

Trust me. I've seen it happen twice.