It is a waiting game now as the world nervously anticipates the start of the "first war of the 21st century". Here in Pakistan, people have now accepted that it is a matter of "when", and not "if", there will be a strike by the US on its neighbour, Afghanistan.
In the capital, Islamabad, in Peshawar in the North Western Frontier Province, and in Quettar in the South Western Baluchistan Province, journalists from all over the world have gathered as the threat of conflict looms closer.
The Pearl Continental Hotel is the unofficial media centre in the frontier town of Pershawar, where veterans of several wars have surfaced, hungrily awaiting their next big battle.
Journalists have opened a book on when the first bombs will drop, or when the first Special Forces troops will be parachuted into treacherous Afghanistan territory.
The rumour machine is in overdrive. Almost hourly there is a report of a journalist who has a contact who has a friend who has a cousin working in the Pentagon who has revealed, as a matter of fact, that America's first bomb is about to land. At the time of writing, they have been wrong.
The Pearl Continental is the only hotel in Pakistan that has a bar, a dingy room on the fifth floor which is open from 10 a.m. to midnight. The sign on the door says: "Non-Muslims and Foreigners only".
In other hotels, a foreigner who wants a drink has to confine it to the hotel bedroom. In Islamabad, beer was delivered to rooms in the main media hotel, the Marriott, wrapped in black plastic bags.
Tired journalists meet nightly at the bar to swap notes, and the speculation is widespread. Tales from other big wars in recent history, including the Gulf and Kosovo, are taken out and dusted down.
The only brew available is Muree beer, produced in Pakistan, which seems a contradiction. Apparently there is enough demand from foreigners to keep the brewery in business. A litre bottle of Muree costs 80p. You can only buy spirits in this bar by the bottle.
Getting a drink can be a trial, especially if you are a woman. The other evening, after filing my last story of the day, I arrived into the bar bang on midnight to meet some colleagues. The polite but disapproving barman told me I was too late and he couldn't serve me. A male colleague went to the bar and got a drink immediately.
Buying alcohol is a bureaucratic nightmare. You must fill out two forms titled "Application for Grant of Permit for the Possession and Consumption of Foreign Liquor by non-Muslim Foreigners". One is for the hotel and the other is for the authorities. You are required to give your name, religion, father's name, passport number, and the number of drinks you are buying. The barman transfers all this information into a huge big log he keeps on the counter.
The Pearl is doing a roaring trade. All of its 148 rooms are occupied by journalists. This weekend, it was invaded by delegates attending the annual North West Frontier Province Apple Festival.
Despite daily protest rallies, life is going on as normal as possible in Peshawar. This frontier town is one of the most densely populated in the world. The streets are packed, mainly with men. It is intimidating being a woman, even wearing the shalwar kameez - a long dress-like top, baggy trousers and scarf. I only go out in male company.
On Saturday evening, the Sadar Bazaar was crammed with people. Little Afghan beggars, refugees from previous troubles, were running around the streets, the girls wearing filthy clothing made from the once brightly coloured cloth traditional in many parts of their country. Outdoor food stalls were busy. We were able to buy Indian spices, dried fruits and nuts. Carpet sellers were a bit more ruthless, using all their sales techniques to try and do business.
As evening fell over the city and the sun began to set, more and more people appeared on the streets. We ended up in a traditional Afghan tearoom, where delicious sweet tea known as Toura was served from dirty blue pots.
Turbaned Afghan men with long beards sat cross-legged on big mattresses on the floor, staring suspiciously at this group of foreign journalists. In one corner, a man was stirring food in a huge pot.
We were just remarking how this place was really a world apart, and wondered if the people here were aware of the threatening America actions. We were quickly given our answer when a television was turned on. It wasn't a Pakistan TV channel these people were watching, but the "enemy" American cable TV channel, CNN, blaring out the latest on the crisis.
Miriamd@163bj.com