So if you live in the UAE and haven’t heard that Justin Timberlake is coming to town you are one of two things:
1- You queue on Fridays for hours in front of Indian cinemas to watch the newest release for Aishwarya Rai and Amit Batchan and think bushy mustaches are cool.
2- You come back from work and roll your blanket around yourself and watch reruns of desperate housewives and spend hours in front of the peep hole waiting for your neighbors to come back from work and give them imaginary names.
Or maybe both.
Well, I am neither. I drove 2 hours to Abu Dhabi to attend JT’s performance. Ok honestly it’s not my biggest pride, especially considering the fact that the attendees were as old as my sons and daughters if I had any. But still, it was a thoroughly entertaining experience where JT outperformed himself and any other artist. I signed up for a Pop show, what I got was a mesmerizing rock performance worthy of great names like Guns N’ Roses and Pearl Jam. I am no music critic, this is my opinion. And it really seemed like JT was working his butt off, singing, dancing, entertaining, joking. It was all perfectly coordinated and choreographed, the lights, the dancing, the images on the TV screens. Even the organizers did a great job of getting 13,000 people in and out safely which I can see was done above anyone else’s expectations. So thanks y’all
On a different note my parents are coming to visit this holiday season to check on their one and only rocking son in Dubai. So if anyone from Jordan wants to send their relatives in UAE thyme, a bag of onions or potatoes, or olive oil please feel free to bother my happily-near retirement parents at …But seriously, if you want to send such things as money transfers, cute, unknowing girls feel free to contact me and I’ll give you direction
You know what that means. It means no matter what I do, no matter what I say, or hard I work to please them, I will always come out the loser. The endless interviewing of when will I get married how much am I saving the job, the career, the women, the ‘you need to get this’, the ‘you need to do that’ that will inevitably derail to whining of how hard it was raising me in a foreign country, the toys and cartoons I got as a kid, the education, then the breakdown into blackmailing tears.
Yet still. I can’t wait to get them from the airport. And I can’t wait to be my parent’s host for the first time in my life. The idea of being the one in control for a change is thrilling in itself.
It means I can drive them to the desert claiming to take them to a lavish resort and leave them there as payback for all the abuse I was exposed to as a child.
No, I'm kidding.
I’ll make sure to make them proud. I know they will be..