… The semester was coming to a close and my focus was primarily on my studies, but there was this constant voice in the back of my head that kept yearning for more adventure. I had already taken my sweet time finishing my degree and I was about to be a twenty-six year old graduate in history with only bar and restaurant experience under my belt. I had been taking a course on teaching English as a foreign language, but I was not sure that this was the route I wanted to take after graduation.
The semester prior, a former professor of mine gave me an offer that was hard to refuse. I was smoking a cigarette outside of the history building on campus when he approached me and asked if I would meet him for a drink later to discuss an opportunity. I of course said yes and made arrangements to meet him at the local Mexican style bar across the street. I figured tequila and women in tight clothing might keep him in the hiring mood.
He ordered us a couple of drinks and began his proposal. He was an expert witness for conglomerate tobacco and needed a research assistant. My job would be simple. Research advertisements and studies proving that it is impossible for someone to plead ignorance to the effects of long-term use of tobacco. The pay was more than anyone had ever offered me before, but the catch was I would have to stay in the same town that I went to university and I still wanted to see the world.
Fate intervened in the cruelest of ways. In his home, my professor suffered a heart attack and was discovered postmortem. A great man, not too advanced in age had his life taken from him with little heed of warning. This was my sign that I had to find something greater than a life sitting in a library or behind a desk. The adventure to Central America solidified this decision for me.
Upon graduation, I received an offer for an interview with the English Language Institute at the university to be a Language Assistant. The ELI is a place for people across the globe to attend English courses in the US and be able to obtain a English level certificate. These people come to advance their career, a chance to study something else in the US, or some just came to advance their English proficiency. My job was to co-teach a pass/fail listening and speaking course and report the progress to the student’s primary professor. I also was paid to attend social events and even made money going to Universal Studios with them. I wish I had known about this sooner, but being a Language Assistant was to be only done during the summer after graduation, for in the fall, I needed to find something full time.
I began by contacting my friends and people who I had met who were from different countries around the world. I had one really close friend who was from Poland, so I decided he was the best bet. He put me in touch with a language school and with the use of phone cards; I established communication with the manager. He told me that I needed to get a visa and he would be able to send me a contract. I contacted the Polish embassy, and they told me that I needed a contract in order to get a visa.
Round and round I went between the two as the fall semester started to creep up on me. I decided to start looking in other directions when it seemed that I was getting nowhere with Poland. I began to send out my CV, regardless of how weak it was, around the world to schools and agencies. To my surprise I started to get feedback rather quickly. The issue was, many of these schools wanted me to have a TEFL certificate and I did not have the time to complete one before the start of the new semester.
Then I got the interview I was looking for. A recruitment company told me that they could set me up teaching in a small village for six weeks and then they would move me to Bangkok for the remainder of my contract. The pay was quite good and I met the necessary requirements. The only catch was I had to leave in two weeks. But being the reckless type that I am, this was not a problem. I agreed and prepared for my departure.
My flight was set. I was to fly from Ft. Lauderdale to New York then to the Emirates, spend a day in Abu Dhabi, and then off to Bangkok for a couple days before I went to the village in eastern Thailand. The plan seemed simple enough.
The flight to Abu Dhabi was abysmal at best. Infants in all directions, including one held by a large mustached woman drenched in the perfume of cat’s urine who sat to my left, surrounded me. Although her husband sat in the seat directly in front of her, the mustached woman found it pertinent to require favors from the other passengers within her radius.
A small window of silence comes after a couple hours, so I decide to try and grab some rest. Within minutes I feel a tightened hand prodding my shoulder trying to nudge me awake. In broken English she makes a request, “You get Pepsi and water.”
I take a deep sigh and nod. Not a big deal and since her husband appears to be completely useless I get up from my seat and make my way to the stewards’ area.
I return my seat after acquiring the requested items. She takes them from me and turns her shoulder. I take my miniature pillow and set it on the armrest to get comfortable. I close my eyes try to fall back asleep. My arm slips and my elbow jabs my leg. The woman had snatched my pillow and was now resting her baby’s head on it. I look at her in a menacing manner, as she already had two pillows in the pouch in front of her but for some reason preferred mine. She paid me no mind.
I adjust over to the other armrest and propped my head upon my hand-pillow set with triangular support. I put in my headphones and started a kid’s movie to fall asleep to. The temperature in the airplane drops as they dim the lights. With each passing moment I feel more and more chilly. I ask a stewardess for a blanket, she nods and smiles but never returns. I continually stop the stewardesses as they pass, but not a one returned with a blanket.
After on-again off-again naps the plane finally descended into Abu Dhabi. I finally was able to escape this wretched air-trap. I hurry across the tarmac, then I stop. I have entered a new world. The main area after deboarding is a large circle with a blue and white mosaic adorning the ceiling. Two floors of shops, restaurants, bars, and a food court are at your immediate disposal. People of every nationality bustling about in different directions.
I quickly searched the first place I could find a cigarette. I followed the blue signs to a room enclosed with glass walls and the world’s greatest ventilation system. I sat down and chatted with a few people about what brought them to Abu Dhabi. A thin kid in his late teens sat next to me. He was fascinated by the U.S. and had lived in Colorado for a stint but had been living in Abu Dhabi recently and was now heading home.
He was very brash about his discontent with life in the Emirates. He complained about the weather, the prices, the lack of parties. I was forced to play Mr. Emirati PR since I was now affiliated with him due to our proximity and people were beginning to stare. After countless attempts to explain to him why it is different here I decided to part ways with this cultural time bomb.
He refused to let me leave. He would continue the conversation without leaving room for an exit. After several attempts and a hefty chain-smoking spree, I was able to part ways with him. Prior to meeting the cultural faux pas, I was told that there was a possibility that the airline would possibly put me up in a hotel due to the extended stay.
I found the queue for plane transfers and joined the line. A tall kid around my age was posed with arms crossed and a thumb and index finger ripping his chin. I turned to him and asked if he spoke English. He smirked and in a British accent said yes.
“Do you know if there is a difference between the queues?”
He shrugged. One line was overflowing with people while the other had a lonely woman. We decided to try our luck in the shorter line. I asked the man about the possibility of getting a hotel room, he handed me two meal vouchers and said that was the best he could do.
He directed me towards the hotel pickup area. Customs had two lines, one for citizens and another for foreigners. The line went fast and the customs agent, dressed in the traditional Arabic white shawl with a red cord holding his head-dress on, glanced at my passport, scanned it, then waved me past. I was surprised how simple it was to enter the country.
I went over to baggage claim to see if I could pick up my luggage. I was told this was something I needed to do when I was in Ft. Lauderdale. The people at baggage claim told me that I had to leave it to be placed on the next plane, even though my flight did not leave until the following morning.
Suddenly, the tall young man from England ran up to me.
“Hey mate, I have a hotel voucher for the night, but my plane leaves in a few hours. I just want to take a shower and get cleaned up, you can take the room after if you want.”
My luck was changing, I was able to save money and get a free hotel. We walked over to a car service desk and they ordered us a car to the hotel. The car was ready in just a few minutes and we headed outside. The heat was like walking through a wall of tar. I am in jogging sweats and a t-shirt and I can barely breath.
We hurry into the cab and a young Pakistani man is in the driver seat. We chit-chat about the heat and the amount of foreign labor the Emirates have and how they never leave because of the amazing Emirati salaries. As we talk, I keep my eyes focused out the window as we pass some of the most amazing modern architecture I have ever seen. It seems that since there are no natural disasters in the area other than the occasional sandstorm, the architects here are able to play with structural concepts and create buildings of art. Each building is unique, zigzag patterns, a flat circle on a base, each one another attempt to defy collapsing on itself.
We arrive at the hotel. The lobby is filled with people from all over the world, but the largest group is teenagers wearing the same white shawl as the customs agent. My new British friend hands the concierge his voucher and passport and explains that I will be staying the remainder of the evening in the room. She informs us that this is not permitted and the voucher is only valid as long as he is present. She offers to call the airline to get another voucher, but we tell her not to bother knowing it will be of no use. She asks for my passport and says that I may be a guest as until he leaves. She hands him a key card and we head to the elevators.
For a free hotel, it was quite lavish. The reception area had massive vaulted ceilings and a complementary restaurant for guests. The elevators were made of a copper-like metal and were quite spacious. The room was quite spacious as well. A wide window gave a fantastic view of the city in the distance and a pristine swimming pool below.
After we got cleaned up and chatted for a while, taking jabs at each other’s countries. We headed downstairs, so he could catch his flight. We got our passports back and the woman ordered us a car. For some reason there was mass confusion as to which car was ours. Even though he had already checked out, different people kept asking him to repeat the process and why I was not on the voucher. To make it simpler I went outside to smoke a cigarette, so he could handle it on his own.
The heat outside was impossible. I took a few drags and gave up; I guess I was not meant to smoke in Abu Dhabi. I went back into the lobby; the confusion had not been settled. There were many drivers, but they could not figure out which one was for us. He was starting to get nervous about missing his flight. They eventually directed a driver over to our direction, we gathered our things and rushed back to the airport.
At the airport, the Englishman and I were directed in different directions. I was confused; I truly had no idea where to go. Each person I asked pointed in a different direction. I decided to pass back through customs and return to the main part of the airport.
I wandered around for a while until I found a food court. I grabbed some Middle-Eastern cuisine with my voucher and gathered my bearings. I saw an American style bar across the food court and decided that I could use a beer. I purchased the overpriced half pint and asked for change in local currency to keep as a souvenir. Then I headed towards the smoking section in the adjacent room.
While sitting with my $8.00 half a beer, I decided to spark up a conversation with a girl at the table next to mine. She was in her late twenties to early thirties, average looking girl, wearing cloth elephant print pants. She had a thick Irish accent and told me she was on her way home from Thailand.
We discussed various topics like Americans’ obsession with pretending to be Irish. After talking for a couple hours, we decided to go for a walk. During our excursion we discovered these strange sleeping pods that looked like they came straight from The Fifth Element. The pods are egg shaped with a foldable cloth on top to enclose the inhabitant. They also ran $17.00 an hour, so we continued on. We came across some chairs that extended with a footrest, so we decided to get a couple hours rest.
A few hours later, it was time for the Irish girl’s flight, so we parted ways. I still have several hours until my flight, so I make my way back to the bar with the smoking room.
I see a young man sitting at a table and I ask if it was alright if I joined him. He was from Russia and we talked for a bit when an older man came up and asks for a light. He had a tan ball cap with the words “South Africa” embroidered on the front. I offer him a seat and he joins us. Over many cigarettes and a couple beers we go over everything from Putin to the crisis in Ukraine to American interventionist ideology. That’s when we discover that we are all going to the same place.
The Russian was going to be in Bangkok for a few days but was then going to Cambodia to try the magic shakes rafting tour. The older man, who turns out to be English and was working in South Africa, was moving back to a small village him and his wife live in Thailand. I tell them that I am going to teach English in a small village and that I want to create a company after.
We decided after a couple more hours of talking, with the conversation getting a bit more personal and a little more vulgar, that we should meet up that night at Nam Nam Palace around 10:00 p.m. I have no idea what this place is, but I agree anyways. We grab a bite to eat and continue bullshitting the rest of the morning until it is time for our flight to leave.
At the gate, I ask the man if my luggage is on board. He checked my tags and said yes. I pass the gate and get almost to the plane. I decide to turn around and ask another person at the desk if my bags are on the plane. The second man assures me they are. I ask him again if he is positive. He takes my tags and types their numbers into the computer and show me them being confirmed on the screen.
I take his word and board the plane. This time my seat is in the first row with lots of legroom. Then there they came. The couple next to me came with a baby and so did the ones on the other side of the isle and the ones adjacent to me. Another blissful flight…