My debut into the UAE was delayed a few times because of red tape and some unexplained confusion.
After Thanksgiving with my family in Virginia, I traveled with my girlfriend, Miranda, to her mother's house in River Falls, Wisconsin for what I thought would be a few days.
I actually spent the next two weeks in the beautiful Midwest, getting to know her family, drinking home-made cinnamon hooch, watching Green Bay Packers games and trying to survive the foot of snow that seamlessly fell in a few hours on God's Country.
During the whitewash, I caught a little cold, which I blamed on the sharp climate change. It turned into something much worse, but more on that later.
I received a spotty phone call from an HR employee at my new job and before I knew it, my plane ticket was booked and I was expected to be in Abu Dhabi in the next 30 hours.
Giddy up.
Etihad Airlines is just as posh as advertised. I gave a quick look to the left immediately after I boarded my plane in Chicago and saw the plush, business-class chairs that also fashioned into fold-out beds. Huge flat screen TVs were in front of each of the spacious chairs and the champagne was on ice.
Maybe my newspaper decided to send me across the world in style?
While I licked my lips in anticipation, I showed my ticket stub to a stewardess, dressed in traditional Indian threads, and was promptly pointed to the right along with the rest of the globe-trotting peasants.
I had an aisle seat next to another new hire, Steve, and it was nice to talk with someone in the same boat (plane) as me.
Steve, a veteran in the journalism game, had previously worked for CBSSports.com and has a wife and 8-year-old son back in Orlando. They are staying in sunny Florida. He is coming to the Middle East to figure out the UAE and get paid. So it goes.
A lingering sickness clouded my thoughts and took precedent over any anxiety of a new job, living in a new country, briefly leaving my girlfriend behind and an entire change in life. Recent sleepless nights had led to lethargic days and in an attempt to catch ZZZs on the plane, I had a cache of assorted drugs to help lose conscience.
Valium. Pain killers. Over-the-counter sleeping pills. I took them all chased with a bloody Mary but to no avail.
Instead, I sluggishly watched four different movies on the much smaller TV in front of me. During the 13-hour flight from Chicago to Abu Dhabi, I tried to stretch my legs under an overweight man in front of me, who enjoyed to throw his arm behind his head during his sporadic sleep and block my view of The Hunger Games.
The sun rose. The sun set. After two chicken airplane dinners -- yes, two of them served about six hours apart -- the plane started to descend into the Middle East. After the first chicken dinner, Klondike ice cream bars were served to those still awake. It was quite a treat -- definitely the highlight of the flight.
When we touched down, I looked to a second-guessing Steve, and offered some confirmation.
"Well, we made it. Welcome to the desert. No turning back now," I said, with a hint of sarcasm.
"Yeah," he said, with dead serious caution. "Now let the confusion begin."
After Thanksgiving with my family in Virginia, I traveled with my girlfriend, Miranda, to her mother's house in River Falls, Wisconsin for what I thought would be a few days.
I actually spent the next two weeks in the beautiful Midwest, getting to know her family, drinking home-made cinnamon hooch, watching Green Bay Packers games and trying to survive the foot of snow that seamlessly fell in a few hours on God's Country.
During the whitewash, I caught a little cold, which I blamed on the sharp climate change. It turned into something much worse, but more on that later.
I received a spotty phone call from an HR employee at my new job and before I knew it, my plane ticket was booked and I was expected to be in Abu Dhabi in the next 30 hours.
Giddy up.
Etihad Airlines is just as posh as advertised. I gave a quick look to the left immediately after I boarded my plane in Chicago and saw the plush, business-class chairs that also fashioned into fold-out beds. Huge flat screen TVs were in front of each of the spacious chairs and the champagne was on ice.
Maybe my newspaper decided to send me across the world in style?
While I licked my lips in anticipation, I showed my ticket stub to a stewardess, dressed in traditional Indian threads, and was promptly pointed to the right along with the rest of the globe-trotting peasants.
I had an aisle seat next to another new hire, Steve, and it was nice to talk with someone in the same boat (plane) as me.
Steve, a veteran in the journalism game, had previously worked for CBSSports.com and has a wife and 8-year-old son back in Orlando. They are staying in sunny Florida. He is coming to the Middle East to figure out the UAE and get paid. So it goes.
A lingering sickness clouded my thoughts and took precedent over any anxiety of a new job, living in a new country, briefly leaving my girlfriend behind and an entire change in life. Recent sleepless nights had led to lethargic days and in an attempt to catch ZZZs on the plane, I had a cache of assorted drugs to help lose conscience.
Valium. Pain killers. Over-the-counter sleeping pills. I took them all chased with a bloody Mary but to no avail.
Instead, I sluggishly watched four different movies on the much smaller TV in front of me. During the 13-hour flight from Chicago to Abu Dhabi, I tried to stretch my legs under an overweight man in front of me, who enjoyed to throw his arm behind his head during his sporadic sleep and block my view of The Hunger Games.
The sun rose. The sun set. After two chicken airplane dinners -- yes, two of them served about six hours apart -- the plane started to descend into the Middle East. After the first chicken dinner, Klondike ice cream bars were served to those still awake. It was quite a treat -- definitely the highlight of the flight.
When we touched down, I looked to a second-guessing Steve, and offered some confirmation.
"Well, we made it. Welcome to the desert. No turning back now," I said, with a hint of sarcasm.
"Yeah," he said, with dead serious caution. "Now let the confusion begin."
No comments:
Post a Comment
What do you think? The floor is yours...
Leave your comments here.