Welcome to the very first blog entry for Lad on tour. I hope you guys will enjoy reading this shit and try not to get to jealous!
Dubai in July is hot…really hot. There is this continual haze over the city, and standing outside in the midday sun for a matter of moments brought out the sweat monster in record time. Fowler came to meet me at the airport and whisked me off in a cab to the aptly named “international city” (IC), where Alantis houses its 2000 strong workforce of migrants. There is not much in the way of public transport in Dubai
and so one is forced to hire a cab pretty much every time you go out of the house. The drive from IC to the palm where Fowler works can take up to an hour and gives you a fairly good overview of what Dubai actually is; a never ending building site in the desert.
30% of the world’s cranes are being employed here and these are put to good use building the world’s biggest this or the world’s most expensive that.
On my first evening Fowler and I went to Aqua adventure (Atlantis’ water park), which was followed by a 15 minute dolphin show. Disappointingly, not one single dolphin jumped through a burning hoop, although I did see one of the trainers kissing a dolphin. Not quite as entertaining, is it? Poor creatures, one minute they’re swimming happily in the pacific ocean and the next thing they know they’re getting their faces eaten off by Fowler. Other highlights included a desert safari, checking out the in door skiing facility and a few trips to the irish pub.
As any avid Daily Mail reader will tell you, Dubai is in fact an Islamic state.
The beach at the dive centre
Alongside such heinous crimes like adultery, drinking alcohol and being a woman, it is illegal to share a room with a member of the opposite sex prior to marriage. If this is really the case, I suspect that Dubai must have the highest divorce rate in the world, with millions of men only discovering what their wives actually look like after marriage…but I digress. Knowing full well about Dubai’s strict rules I was slightly surprised by the sleeping arrangements, with myself, Ben, his girlfriend and one other girl all sharing a room together. After a night out on the lash on my fourth evening there, we had returned to the room for an after party consisting of 4 guys and one girl. It was 1am and the party was barely in it’s infancy before the doorbell goes… more revellers perhaps, wanting to join the fun? Unfortunately for us, it turned out to be the head of security, IC’s chief of police so to speak.
This miserable Safa cunt had all the necessary paperwork and knew that the room was registered to two girls (Ben’s girlfriend and another girl who was away on holiday). He was therefore upset to find boys and girls together in a room which didn’t belong to them after 11pm, whilst drinking alcohol- a most despicable crime here in Dubai. Needless to say the whole thing got rather heated, unpleasantaries were exchanged, and Fowler along with the other guys there were to be grilled by security the following morning. Fowler, ever the wise one, was due in at work at 6 the following morning and decided it was a good idea to stay up the rest of the night, drinking voddy in preparation for his meeting with a big wig in security. A drunken Fowler as we know is a stubborn Fowler, and instead of appeasing the guy by admitting fault, he further fanned the flames by refusing to give a statement.
This really pissed the guy off, and there was talk of ben even being sent home. It turned out however to be all fart and no poo, as nothing ever came of it.
My time in the middle east was brought to a end with a 2 night stay at a beach resort on Oman. The drive took about 5 hours each way and while the choice of music did little to make the time go any faster, it really was paradise out in this little coastal desert oasis. We tore into the Fosters from the mini bar from the word go, which together with some local squidgy delight, ensured that a good time was had by all.