Dubai! It’s weird!
Perhaps it would make a great new marketing slogan for the city, though my observations are probably clouded as I only spent just over two hours in the airport after a 15 hour flight. The first thing that strikes you about it, for a city in the United Arab Emirates, well it just doesn’t seam particularly Arab. After spending half the flight being force fed beer by the very friendly flight attendants and only getting about four hours sleep, I was pretty keen to stretch my legs. Local time: 5:30am. Temperature on the ground: 34á´¼. Out of the plane, down the stairs, on to the tarmac. Nothing like the smell of humidity and Jet A in the morning.
Where is the new terminal they have been talking of? You know, the largest building in the world? Apparently it’s not big enough, so we have to get on a bus. Actually we taxied past the terminal on the way in. Rows of Emirates jets as far as the eye can see. Once in the bus, we got to view it all from ground level in the other direction. It looks like they are putting on a bit of a show for us. Five minutes later, the bus arrives, we enter. One way the exit, the other is transfers. Oh damn these new security measures. Time to take everything out of my pockets, laptop out of the bag, belt out, shoes off. Good thing I wore my pants that actually fit. Talk about tight security. Hang on… the metal detectors and x-ray machines are not cordoned off. It is almost like a trust system. Surely it would only take one person to slip past and make it into the terminal and they would have a major security incident.
And so begins the rabbit warren that is Dubai Airport. The sign says that all gates are down this set of escalators, then another. The point of this? Wow! Look at that four story marble waterfall. Apparently the architects thought it would be a good idea to force everyone coming into the airport down into the basement so that they could see it, and then ride three escalators up in front of it, to get to the main concourse. Found the toilet, found the duty free, but I will save that for later. Now, a cigarette. I had done a little research before I left. Apparently the airport is non smoking. Not that there are any signs there telling you not to. Apparently there are smoking rooms, not that they are marked on the map. The smallest hint of tobacco smoke lingers in the are. I wonder where it is coming from.
Given the size of the airport itself, you have to wonder what the designers were thinking. The terminal is a long, strip. The main walkway, no more than 5 metres wide, lined with duty free stores selling crap that you wouldn’t find anywhere but in an airport. Despite it being early in the morning, it’s a struggle to push through. I keep going, Along the way you find these little hole in the wall glass elevators that take you somewhere, the hotel, the day spa, the lounge. The designers did have something in mind – to extract as much money as possible from you in a short period of time. I reach the end of the shops. Find a little indoor garden, with another water feature. Oh how romantic. A couple are sitting on the bench in the middle of the garden totally necking each other. Out side of the garden, there are slightly more comfortable seats. Looks like some people have opted to sleep in them rather than pay the $300 a night for the hotel. No sign of a smoking room, but the smell is still there.
I start to head in the other direction. On the way, I notice this little East-Asian woman, tight mini skirt, five inch heels, red lipstick. Holding a stack of menus. “Good morning sir� she greets me. Well at least my long blonde hair is not causing a gender identity crisis like it did last time. This is all very friendly. What is she doing? “Would you like to come in to The Hub, Smoking Bar and Restaurant�. Excuse me? Someone is actually on the strip spruiking for business in an airport? Ah, there is the hole in the wall leading up to The Hub. Some Krauts are hovering around the entry, here the word smoking and breath a sigh of relief. The host leads us into the elevator, the doors close, and it starts to rise. At this point she informs us that there is a minimum 35dh (about $15) charge today. Damn. They have stung me. To late now.
The host finds me a spot at the bar. I light up, and look at the menu. Cheeky buggers. Everything is under 35dh. Double Espresso 22dh. Pint of Tiger 33dh. I know its only 6am, but I am going to have to do both. Bar keep! A double espresso and a pint of tiger please! This place is tacky. Rainforest timber and faux petrified wood. Overdone. Channel V is on the plasma and blasting out the speakers. No Arabs here. Maybe it’s only surreal due to the change in time zones and lack of sleep. If only it had animated gogo dancers on the bar, it would be just like one of those stupid clubs in Second Life. Thankfully, unlike Second Life, the coffee, beer and cigarettes all have their desired effect. My body is confused.
Time flies when you are having fun. My flight is boarding, its time to make a dash for the duty free. On the way down, the host is back there accompanying me in the lift. “Thank you for coming to The Hub, did you enjoy your stay?â€?. I informed her that it was just what the doctor ordered. She enquired if I was going to come back. I said, maybe in 7 weeks time on my return journey. I doubt I will, it sounds like somewhere I could really get into trouble. I race to the duty free. More people are on the strip now, it’s getting harder to push through. I know what I am after. A carton of cigarettes and two bottles of Tanqueray No. 10. $80 sees me right. Damn cheap. On to the gate. Watch out Ned! Muslim hottie alert. Some how, even with most of themselves covered, you just know.
Turns out, the flight is not actually boarding, they are just telling us it is and sending us down into a holding pen. I sit there, looking out the windows. It looks like you should be able to see the city from here. I don’t know if it’s fog – I suspect it’s pollution due to is brown colour – but it is just a haze, and I can’t really see in real life the architectural delights that Dubai has to offer. Eventually, we are called through. I have a window seat. I was hoping to get a better view of the city on take off. It was not to be. Within about a minute of taking of I could barely see the ground with the exception of some new islands that they were building into the ocean. Surely not more palm trees. Who would want to buy a luxury island under the flight path of one of the worlds fastest growing airports?
Goodbye Dubai. See you in seven weeks.