Dub.dub.dub.ai

Date: 21 Nov. 2007
Where I am: Arrivals area in Dubai International Airport
What time it is: 8.20 a.m.

The title is ironic, since there’s no “www” access in the part of Dubai airport that I’m actually in. I’m rather annoyed. There’s also a severe lack of power outlets here. I found a grand total of two which happen to be right next to each other, not close to any seats or anything mildly resembling something comfortable, so I’ve resorted to balancing myself on this metal bar that goes around a pillar. Feeling very much like a vagrant about it, and I’m getting hilarious looks from the taxi drivers and random folk waiting around for people to arrive. They look at me.. then at my laptop… then at the wall where it’s plugged in… then back at me as if I’m insane.

SO, I just flew for almost 15 hours from Sydney to Dubai, and now I’m hanging out, waiting for Mama to come and meet me, and a couple of hours later we’ll go meet up with Baba. I’m pretty impressed with myself – out of the 15 hours, I slept for about 8 in total, which is a massive achievement for me since I get very restless and irritable and cranky and then just wallow in the discomfort I’m in. Pretty sure my knees are going to self-destruct when I’m at the age of 25. When that happens, I’m going to blame Emirates entirely for the ridiculously small space they purport to call ‘leg room’. Who are they even trying to kid? And the dude in front of me must have been quite the gangsta, because he was leanin’ wid it for the whole 15 hours ("haha"), thereby restricting my “leg room” (if I don’t put quote marks it’ll legitimise it as actual leg room, which it isn’t, so no) for the bulk of the flight.

Can someone explain to me why airlines think that eggs are an appropriate food to serve for breakfast? Not only does the entire plane smell like … eggs … but it’s also disgusting to eat. That consistency, that wobbliness, that eggy-ness. No thanks. Gross.

There was a 26-year-old Persian fellow sitting next to me on the flight, and when I first got on the plane, I was probably quite rude since I was moody and tired, so I just put my earphones on and pretended to be asleep because I wasn’t in a conversational frame of mind at all. But eventually we started talking – very interesting, he’s apparently a famous singer back in Shiraz, trying to make it big in Australia, and essentially the conversation boiled down to him indirectly asking for either of my sisters’ hands in marriage. I obviously answered in the affirmative.

Hmmm. I hate waiting. Although I actually like the fact that I’m kind of strangely facing the door that my mom is likely to walk through. It’ll be great when she walks in and suddenly finds her daughter kind of pathetically hunched over a laptop, looking at the door with a “will you give me shelter and feed me” look on my face. I’m going to try and be inconspicuous for as long as possible and just watch her facial expression. Hah Mama.