Drawing lines in the sand

Slowly, taking baby steps, my laziness and PROcrastination is seeping outta me. This is probably the shortest gap in a long time, that I’ve had between posts. And its about time too; everyone’s due for another essay length post to waste their valuable time reading.

Well I’m in Dubai. Land of the Oppressed, Home to the Villas, Lamborghini’s, and other overpriced things. Filled with rich fiends who conveniently forget about the little people that built this place, it definitely is Meme-Central, and yells “Come to Dubai! We’ll pump excessive amounts of pampering that you really don’t need into your blood stream in exchange for your money, basic humane values, and freedom!” Of course, you won’t realize this while your relaxing in your $3000 suite at the Burj Al Arab, where your personal chef is flying down back to Canada to pickup Liquid Bragg’s Amino Acids to put into your steak for this evening. No big.

But I’m sure that’s not what whoever reads this damn thing wants to hear, you want to hear about me! Here goes, and remember, you asked for it.

The plane ride, in Business Class, was pretty cool but disturbing. Pretty cool cause of the little cubicle type thing you have, which is basically isolating you from everyone else (something I’m thankful for, sitting amidst snobby assholes), and a recliner seat that can massage you as well. The ICE system is standard in all classes, but your “idiot box” is bigger! You’ve got a whole storage area thing on your left, which luckily for me was under the window I spent hours looking through, and a little mini-fridge type shelf thingy. It’s hard to explain. And there’s a built-in footrest which can store your shoes in and blah blah blah. It’s nice, simply put. The disturbing part is all the unnecessary pampering and doting you get. As per usual, the sideburns automatically make me 21, and in the space of 5 minutes, I was offered champagne, wines to choose from some massive list, and orange juice, by three different air-hostesses. My reply, which stayed constant for anything unnecessary, is a smile and a no thanks, which is something they don’t get there. The rest of those bastard Business Class people, who are pretty much your Wall Street, Engineer, Lawyer, Doctor, Gold-digger who married rich, people who I cannot for the life of me stand, who’s bank accounts are experiencing exponential growth whereas their soul is decaying to the point of non-existence. You won’t see a smile, or hear a thanks, or a please from them at all. Basically any form of niceness. If the little cubicle thing I was shut into wasn’t isolated, I would’ve probably adopted Terrorism on the whole upper deck of the plane. These are the people, who in a perfect world, would be dragged out back into an alley and shot like dogs. Not to say that dogs should be shot, but you know what I mean.

It’s more spacious in real life, but that’s the gist of it.

Anymore talk of the flight and I’ll recall the unnatural, sickening smell in the air that everyone gets when they step into an airplane before it takes off. The food was good, 3-course affair, and I watched a few movies, saw a show of Radiohead with the Fleet Foxes and Andrew Bird, did some reflection and slept. That’s how you should treat long flights.

And also, from last year I believe my mom actually got an email from the company, saying that I can’t wear shorts and what not. It’s 2010, and stuff like this happens. I wore track pants…with shorts underneath. Just to spite them and feel good inside.

Finally arrived and got home, and had Arabic food after ages! Hummus never tasted so good.

Mum surprised us for the weekend; said we were going camping up in the mountains, which I won’t lie, I would’ve enjoyed, but instead she checked us all into a resort. First, the Fujeirah Rotana, which we’ve been to before and is pretty cool. Catching up to Jet Lag, hitting the gym, and having brunch is how I unwind.

I’ll post more info on the pictures I took later, but that’s pretty much the Rotana.

Checking out the next day, mom said we’d pop into the Meridien Al Aqah, the big resort hotel thing right next to the Rotana, for lunch. She then tricked us into believing that we were taking a tour of the Royal Club suites, and then slipped the room cards into our hands. We spent a night there, real nice place. As for what I did, same deal as the Rotana, Gym, Sleep, Pool, Eat.

I dug up my dads old camera, which turned out to be a Canon EOS 300 (Rebel 2000). 35mm film SLR camera, so I was pretty happy finding that. The pictures up here are taken from it, with some badly kept expired film hence the distortion and what not. Really ecstatic with what this camera can do, so expect more pictures!

Taking long walks early in the morning is a lot of fun, and though I’ve lived here all my life, the places I’ve seen in the past 2 days I have never ever seen before, and they’re practically in my “backyard”. I’m on a hunt to find a picture that will sum up the corrupt and rotten state Dubai is in, and missed a good one on Saturday. A worker or hobo covered up in cloth, sleeping on the bench of a multi-million dirham avenue park. I’m determined to find the shot I’m looking for.

In other, more important news, its March 16th. That means its the birthday of some special ladies of mine.

Happy Birthday Andrea & Elaine (see, you’re both separate individuals, not “twins”).

As you know, your letters are in the mail, and you’re now famous to all the 4 people that read this thing.

Also I missed Brent’s birthday since I was at the resort, so Happy Birthday buddy. We shall have cumulative parties when I get back.

And if my loser friends are reading this; HEY!

I miss you all, and need some Canadian air to freeze into my bones.

Stay tuned!

Danny