On Being Fresh off the Boat and Such

So here I am. Dubai. Fresh off the boat. Milking the residue salt out of my stagnating shirt. Here goes the story of how I ended up here. I rowed my boat gently down the Dead Sea, through the Rum desert and whatever fresh hell other deserts there is, all the way to the pond that is called Aqaba. I was relieved once I got to Aqaba because rowing in the water is much easier. I then rowed some more past Yemen and Oman where I waved to some dolphins that friendlily splashed me with their tails all the way to the bustling coast of Dubai. I disguised as an Indian fisherman and crawled all the way past the heavily clogged streets, rented a bike to the tall, glass buildings where I am working now. They gave me a bottomless inventory of fresh office supplies that I don’t have to wrestle anyone over to the death nor inherit from anyone more senior than me. I can even switch around the colors of the pens to suit the color of my tie, if I had one that is. They stamped me with a job title I’m still practicing to say in one breath. Parroting it to people is my current favorite pastime.

Person: So what do you do?
Me (excited): I am working as a Blah Blah Blah
(Pause with a brief rolling of the eyes)

Person: How’s the coffee? Pretty good, huh?
Me: Terrific!

There’s a different course rare as it is for this dead-end conversation. Only the extremely lonely and therefore forcedly friendly or incredibly noisy people follow it.

Nicer Person: So what do you do?
Me (excited): I am working as a Blah Blah Blah.
Nicer Person: And what does that do?
Me (more excited): We do (throw in as many cutting-edge, technical terms starting with ‘e’ here and there) because the future and generations and children and investment and yadda yadda.
(Pause with a brief rolling of the eyes)

Nicer Person: How’s the coffee? Pretty good, huh?
Me: Terrific!

I am here reporting to all fellow Ammanites and foreigners the misgivings and blessings of living in a multinational city like Dubai as objectively as Al-Jazeera. And we all know how objective that can be, especially according to Jordanian standards. I am also keeping count of the days till the officials in the city of Dubai realize the grave mistake they have made in allowing me to step on their soil and send their uniformed messengers to pick me up and throw me off at the Saudi border where I plan on erecting a protest tent till they allow me back. If you are one of those uniformed messengers please add me to your MSN contact list at expated-in-dubai@hotmale.com where we can chat about life, the universe and everything.
Cheers.