After spending 3 full days in Dubai, I left the apartment to return to the States. I left exactly 2 hours before my 1:20am flight. As I waited for the cab, I was thinking that I should have left more time. When the cab driver arrived at 11:25pm I started to feel better. Then we hit traffic. A lot of traffic. (A side note should be included here: Driving in Dubai is like taking your own life into you hands. It is full contact. There is no eye contact. And you must be very aggressive!!) I was in the most passive cab EVER! The minutes ticked away. I needed to check my luggage 75 minutes before departure. Math in my head: 1:20- 20= 1am. 75 minutes minus 20 is 55. 1am minus 55 is 12:05am. Okay. I still have 20 minutes. 15 minutes. 10 minutes. OMG!! The driver informs me that he is taking me to the second entrance of the airport because it will be faster and he knows a short cut. 5 minutes. We pull up and stop on the left side of the road. I would say pull over except that wasn't the way it went down. We just stopped and blocked the lane. I needed a receipt. He handwrote one. 3 minutes!! I run across the remaining 4 lanes of traffic, using my luggage as a shield. Luckily, the traffic did not allow anyone to get up a enough speed to knock me over!!
I walk into the airport's second entrance. It was packed. It was also the "local" entrance. Everything was in Arabic. Everyone was on their cell phones standing wherever they wanted yelling in all sorts of Arabic dialect. There were no signs with the British Airways emblem. I want to cry. OK. Regroup. I have run out of time and the only thing in English is the FIDS screen flashing "BA106 Closing" in red. Thanks. I catch a glimpse of the BA tag. It is one a guys luggage as a name tag. He is going to Area 3. That's as good as any choice. I walk behind him. He answers his cell. The line moves. I wait 3 seconds and cut in front of him. Repeat this process for the next 30 seconds. No one cares to stop the giant white girl who obviously does not want to wait as they discuss moving in line with everyone in their phone book. I load everything on the x-ray. The scary military guard tells me there is no need to take the laptop out but that I need to go thru the metal detectors at the other end. Of course. (Another note: I had twisted my ankle in stupid heels 3 days prior and it was quickly becoming 3 times it's normal size!)
So, I run down. (For those of you who know me, I avoid this activity all the time). I run back to get my bags. There is no cultural norm for people in Dubai to move out of your way. They are never in a hurry and there does not seem to be a "stand to the right; walk to the left" rule here. So, I start moving little people out of my way. It must have looked odd to see me plowing thru from a distance but I didn't care at this point. I needed to check the bags or I wouldn't be flying on BA! I run across the area to BA counters and since the two British guys were on their cells, I cut the line again. Whatever. Judge me all you want but being on your cell phone implies that you are not focused on the task at hand. I arrive breathlessly to the queen behind the counter who laughs and says, "Why were you rushing? We check bags up to 60 minutes before departure." Had they already taken my bags, I would have beaten this kid down. He finally finishes checking me in and tells me that my flight will begin boarding at 1am at Gate 18. Great. Where is Gate 18? "Go to the end of this area, turn left, …. And follow everybody else." I hate him so much. Smile and exit.
OK. Deep breath. I am getting on the plane so the hard part is over, right? I do not think I have ever been so wrong in my entire life. I walk for like 2 miles. The Dubai airport is set up that you walk thru curved hallways and up and down escalators to trick you into thinking that you are getting somewhere or that the end of your trek is near. Neither of those things are true. I hobble my way down the maze and end up at Passport Controls (a.k.a. Customs). I had passed the opposite direction 3 days before. From that experience, I wanted to get into a line with a woman attendant. (It is easy to pick them out in Muslim countries: women in black; men in white). I pick my line. A guard in a beret and scary uniform comes over and tells me in broken English to move to another line. I said OK and moved. I wait in the line and FINALLY get up to the desk. I avoid eye contact and hand him my boarding pass and passport. He types. He mumbles. He types louder. He says something in Arabic to the next guy over. He comes over and types. They start yelling at each other, pointing at the passport, and typing loudly. I am going to cry again. They stop. He throws my stuff back and says, "You can't come in here." No heartbeat. I am going to pass out. What? "You go to office." What? Chest is constricting. I think I am seeing spots. "YOU GO TO OFFICE BACK THERE!!" Ok, dude. I go in the general direction back thru the line, like a walk of shame. I could feel all those people hoping that I (the problem passenger) was not on their flight.
I hand my paperwork thru the bulletproof glass to a smiling Emirati. The same thing with the typing, pointing, and yelling occurs. After 10 minutes, he stamps my passport and says, "OK. Go to the left." What? "LEFT" Jeez. There is no build up here, huh? I am SO sorry I am annoying you. Now I understand how immigrants feel coming to the US. Saying things to me slower and louder actually help me learn Arabic. So, I stand in the line the most to the left. The guard starts yelling at me. What now? Oh, I should go around the desks to the left. Fine. I walk around the corner and there is another baggage screen/metal detector. This time I need to take out my laptop. The people from Uganda are confused at the process but know they aren't going to let me cut the line. Thanks. Finally I get thru and continue onward thru the maze.
Another 15 minutes of my life later, I arrive at Duty Free. I figure I will buy people presents here. Unfortunately, the UAE does not sell shot glasses (even disguised as toothpick holders) in duty free. They sell alcohol, cigarettes, and British candy. Assuming that everything would labeled half in Arabic, like the pack of cigarettes I had in my bag. That was going to have to do. I bought a carton of cigarettes and a box of Crunchie candy bars. I was a little frazzled by this time and added things in USD; not in Dirhams. I don't have enough Dirhams since I tipped the slowest cabbie in the world. Damn. I ask her to take the candy bars off. She smiles and calls the manager to type forever to take them off. The line is forming behind me. I swear I can hear people whisper, "Isn't that the girl from Passport Control? She brings problems!!"
Embarrassed for my new found inability to add, I walk out of Duty-Free when I hear "Last call for BA Flight 106 at Gate 18" It is 1250?!! Last call. I hate that counter guy! I run up the escalator and thankfully Gate 18 is just to the right. There is a line for yet ANOTHER bag screen/ metal detector. I get to my turn. I do not need to take out my laptop this time. I walk thru the metal detector. Beep. Crap. I tried it again. Beep. I think that it has to be my hoodie. I ask if I should put it thru the x-ray. I ask because I only have a tank top on and this is a Muslim country. The guard says nothing. I ask again. He yells, "I did not ask you to undress!" Okay. "You go with her." He points to a woman in full Muslim garb. Great. I grab my carry on and follow her into what can best be described as a freestanding room. She shuts the door and I realize that I can almost see over the walls. I ask again if I should take off my sweatshirt. She says no and then proceeds a full frontal grope. Ummm, what are you doing? She tells me it is my undergarments setting off the detector. Some warning would have been nice but I keep that to myself. You must realize that I have been up 17.5 hours at this point and I am being fondled by a Muslim woman. I had to laugh. To add insult to injury, I turn around and her phone rings. So, we finish the pat down one-handed while she laughed and talked to her friend. As I walked out of the room, I could feel the 400 BA passengers staring at me, thinking, "That is the girl from Passport Control and Duty Free. She needs to get her act together!!"
I would also like to point out at this point that we waited until 0120 (our departure time) to board the plane. We started with the people who needed extra time or had children to board. Then, in unusual fashion, everyone else was welcomed to board the plane. I hated BA at that point. I fought my way to my seat and counted the hours until I could get home. Way to make a first impression!!
