Read Welcome to Dubai (The Traveler) for Free Online

away from getting a reservation there. The place catered to tourists, whereas the Hilton was more businesslike.
    “Which one?” the immigrations officer asked him.
    Gary shrugged. “I guess the biggest.”
    The Arabian man in a white-shirt uniform smiled at him. He stamped the American passport and said, “Welcome to Dubai.”
    “Thank you.”
    The man nodded. “Enjoy your stay.”
    “I plan to.”
    Once Gary walked out of the airport exit to catch a taxi to downtown Dubai, the diversity of the culture became immediately apparent. There were Arabs, Indians, Asians, Americans, French, Italians, Africans, Latinos, Canadians and Europeans all vying for taxis and rental cars. Instead of rushing his movements, Gary relaxed and took it all in. He watched the new sights of dusty foreign cars, listened to the sounds of different languages and sniffed the late-afternoon air.
    By the time they had arrived, it was after six o’clock in the evening. And eighty-five degrees … in October.
    “Amazing,” Gary mumbled to himself. “I’m here in the Middle East.” And he felt no fear at all, only curiosity.
    As he continued to stand there on a cement platform for passenger pick-up, Gary looked to his right and met the eyes of a Muslim woman covered in white garb from the ground up. There was a red veil over her shoulders adorned with red rubies. She was surrounded by a pair of shorter women, who were much older and wearing similar white garb without the red. They appeared to be assisting her with three small children, who climbed into the back of a black Mercedes SUV. A second Mercedes SUV pulled up behind it and gathered up the older women.
    Gary stood there hypnotized by the scene.
They must be important,
he assumed.
    “It’s the
Emirati,
the royal class of locals from Dubai,” a man told him from his left. “Although most of them live in the finished city of Abu Dhabi.”
    Gary turned to lock eyes with the man. He was young and tall himself, although not as tall as Gary. He was brown like a paper bag with thick dark-brown hair that was combed back like silk. He looked late twentyish and spoke with quick and clear English that was definitely British. And his clothes were well fitting and fashionable.
    “You never want to stare at the locals like that,” the Brit said. “They might think that you’re trying to kidnap them.” Then he chuckled.
    Gary grinned and kept his poise, taking another look at the pair of black Mercedes SUVs as they drove away in front of them. “You’re American?” the man asked.
    Gary continued not to speak as he thought things through. He hated that his nationality was so obvious. Maybe he should have worn something different from his usual blue jeans and T-shirt. But it was comfortable and unassuming. Or so he thought.
    He asked the man, “Is that a good thing or a bad thing here? Are you from London?”
    The man smiled and nodded. “Yeah, how did you know?”
    “You sound very British and your clothes are tight.”
    “Ahhh, and you sound very American,” the Brit responded, laughing. “And your clothes are too loose. Americans can all use a good tailor.” He reached out his hand in friendship. “My name is Johnny Napur. My family’s originally from Sri Lanka.”
    Gary took his hand and remained apprehensive.
    “I’m just a lonely traveler. I’m nobody from nowhere.”
    Johnny smiled. “Okay, Mr. Nobody From Nowhere, where are you going? Are you waiting for a ride or catching a taxi?”
    “I was. I’m headed downtown.”
    Johnny nodded. “I can take you there. Have you converted your money yet? One U.S. dollar is worth more than three and a half
dirham.
So for one hundred
dirham,
I can take you downtown.”
    Gary did his own translation. “That’s about thirty dollars.”
    “Roughly, yes. But if you had British pounds, they would be worth more than five and a half
dirham,
and I would only charge you
twenty
pounds for downtown.”
    Gary chuckled. “Sure, rub it right in.