Nothing like being awake a near 24 hours, holding your pee, and sitting in a compact space for 7,037 miles to make you feel one with the world.
This is my second venture to the Dubai airport. And once again, I don’t intend on leaving it for anything else other than my connecting flight to Mumbai.
DXB is a weird place. Incredibly westernized for the sake of tourist convenience, DXB quietly whispers from the dune, “Don’t worry, you didn’t go too far. No one will accost you for being an American. Here, have a complementary damp facial towel.”
Save for the occasional hijab sighting, not much out of the ordinary. I’m still able to drink Starbucks and eat my Cosi too. Actually, it’s “PAUL” coffee.
A reminder that you can accomplish everything you want and more in Dubai, I have a duty free Swatch to prove it.
I was blessed with the good fortune that all 4 of the watches I collected over my lifetime either had dead batteries or the ticker kept asking for a mulligan, right before I left. One of my watches–which is made out of recycled materials, runs on body heat, and was supposed to get me through the apocalypse–showed up to Dulles airport Friday morning already hungover.
And…here we go.
Catch you in Mumbai. Bombay. Or what my Dad called it, Mumbaye.
Circle the one you use.