Going Metro in Dubai

metro |ˈmetrō|

noun ( pl. -ros) (also Metro)

a subway system in a city, esp. Paris.

• a subway train, esp. in Paris.

• Metro is an abbreviation of metropolitan, and is the name of many products and services relating tourban areas, in particular rapid transit rail systems.

• See also: "metrosexual", a neologism for a male (typically heterosexual) who spends large amounts of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle.

I wasn't optimistic about trying out the Dubai metro for the first time. I expected BO and herds of loud children stuck to their mommies, teenagers clustered together giggling hysterically. But I figured, it's about a quarter of what it would cost me to take a cab towards the same destination so let's give it a shot. It was really quiet at first, but then the escalators brought the crowds along. I was right. But there are expats, locals, and all kinds of internationals walking the platforms. I liked it.

Instead of buying a one-way or roundtrip ticket, I bought one of those cards that you can refill and reuse. Like an Oyster Card, for those of you who have been in London. Everyone was asking the poor lady behind the glass the same questions about tickets and stops so I just bought one and asked her to fill it with 50 Dirhams. Honestly I just wanted to save time, she was taking up to five minutes with each customer. It's like Metro orientation month. Which means it takes forever for people to understand how this works.

When I reached the platform, I waited. It was actually the only time I had to think about what I needed to do, because everything else was automatic. I'm not good with waiting. So my next task was to choose a waiting pose and go with it. I fluctuated between 'bored pacing' and 'leaning back on the rail and staring at my reflection in the glass'. I had nothing else to keep busy with, so vanity is always an easy out. Actually I did that because I noticed that I looked really pale, and should probably get some sun sometime soon.

But in those few minutes of waiting, especially when a couple of kids walked passed me with their skateboards - emo haircuts, tight black pants and everything - I suddenly had a flashback of being in Europe. I remembered this one junkie in the London Underground with a mohawk standing about 20 meters away from me at around midnight. We were the only two waiting for the last train and he was staggering closer and yelling obscenities into the security camera, threatening to take a 'wee' on the tracks if the train didn't show up. I didn't wait long enough to find out if he did, I picked up my bag and opted to take a taxi to my friend's house instead. Junkie aside, I have fond memories of being in Europe, and those moments waiting on the Dubai metro platform took me there. I thought to myself, "Wow, it feels like I'm back in Europe."

My favorite part of the whole ride was this newlywed couple that got on the train. They looked like they were in their early twenties. They looked like they might have been from India. She was wearing a black Abaya and had a scarf around her head - Khaleeji style - and they were arm in arm, walking like they were on their honeymoon. They found a place to stand to my left, in between two of the train-cars, but had nothing to hold on to. So they stood facing eachother in an embrace. He had his arm around her waist, and she had hers up on his shoulder with her head resting on his chest. The train started moving and they barely budged, just sharing their position and the train ride in a quiet moment together. It was so sweet. I started painting a picture of what's behind their relationship. He married her recently and brought her to Dubai from her hometown. It's her first time in Dubai, whereas he had been working here for a while and is some sort of business man, dressed in his white collar with a classy watch and phone in his other hand. She was in wedded bliss, proud to be held by him, eager to send photos of her new life to her friends and family back home. She probably can't handle him talking to other women but has nothing to worry about given the way he's holding her so tight. They probably can't wait to start a family -

"Hey... you..... eksecuuuse me. YOU." A middle aged gentleman in local attire standing to my right interrupts my imaginary scenario and yells over me to the couple on my left. "You i'm atawking to you."

The Indian man looks over, chewing his gum at a steady pace, unfazed by the elder gentleman's hostile tone.

The Khaleeji continues, "Please ... *gestures for them to separate* this is un - ax - eptable. You have to be considerate, there are children on the train. Do not do this."

The husband, still poised, goes "I'm just HOlding her."

"I am warning you this is not acceptable. You have to respect others here. I am here for this reason ha."

They release.

So maybe it's not quite Europe. But that's going Metro for you. It looks like a liberal but deep down it's a homophobe.

Cheap Thrill

I realized today that on the Common Application for US universities, they added a new ethnicity that didn't usually exist before. I never used to find my ethnicity on these forms, but now it says "White (including Middle Eastern)".

We made it!

We're acknowledged as an ethnicity!

Victory fist pump!

Check it out, hicks of America, your country says we're white. Yeah, us AY-RABS and SAND NIGGERS.

We're white.

And we were here before you.

So eat my dust.

I Have a Confession to Make...

I'm a girl. And I DON'T love chocolate. I like it, yeah. But not the way about 100% of the females I know love it and can have it anytime. On that note...

I just had a delicious cupcake. I never really liked plain cake. Never really been a cake person. But give me a cupcake with icing on top and I'm all over that. Icing is always my favorite part of the cupcake, or any cake. I feel like it's a chore to eat through the rest of the cake before/after I savor the icing, but I do it anyway. I could just lick off the icing and throw the rest. But I NEVER do that. And it's not because I don't want to waste food, I waste ridiculous amounts of food all the time, and no I'm not proud of it. I COULD just lick off the icing and rid myself of the chore, but I don't. I'm trying to remember if I ever did that when I was a kid, I mean I was indulgent enough, but I don't think I did. I'd have killed icing for myself for good. But I somehow had (and have) the sense not to.
I mean my taste buds know when to tell me to quit. They know what's too much, and what to avoid. Why doesn't my heart do the same?