Dubai Dairies - 2
The flight to Dubai was uneventful. There wasn’t a pretty looking thing sitting next to me so no, this was probably not the good in ‘everything happens for the good’. I ask for a blanket thrice and get it 20 min before we land. Definitely not for the good.
Note to self - never fly Jet Airways. But if it’s cheaper than other airlines, then screw that note and bear the crew’s indifference so that I can afford the next missed flight. All things being equal.
An empty immigration hall at the airport is welcome. However, deserted immigration counters make me question my ability to read bright blue 2-word signboards with arrows up, down and diagonal. I suddenly see a wave of flowing white and poky blacks coming out from a corner like a KK army and realise I am the first to reach. A 2-worded conversation later I am allowed entry to the land of oil and sand. And beards that look fake.
A loaded car takes us all to a beautiful fake beach. The promenade by the water is bustling today, Saturday being their Sunday. A burly comical Turkish sells ice cream by selling laughter first. Sheiks smoke in a corner while bikinied European bodies cool off on a dredged bay. I am told the sand is from Gold coast, Australia. Funny, this being a desert. Our food is brilliant and so are the conversations. Lack of alcohol is a downer but we promise ourselves to make up for it later.
I am now over my missed-flight depression.
Later in the day, we talk. About life, death, food and health. Some of it scares us but most of it makes us hopeful. We drink cups of ginger tea and reminisce old times. The desert sun says bye for now and we plan for the evening. Dubai hospitality at a friend’s house-party ensues. We come back, tummies stuffed with some finger-licking lamb biryani. Apparently, it is only available only if you know who-you-should-know and if you wade through the narrow lanes of the older town. For me, such stories always up the flavor by a few notches.
We decide to make the most of it with an after party but I doze off on the couch with my mouth open before the coffee is ready. I am politely asked to move my ass to the bed, which I obediently do, only to encounter unique resonances of a friend snoring next to me.
I was always a morning person.