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TO HELL WITH THIS ROMANCE
Bright lights shimmered along the walls and ceiling of the massive arrival lounge at Dubai International Airport. I dragged my luggage behind me, admiring the beauty of the architectural masterpiece that is Dubai International Airport – world’s busiest airport. Slowly, I meandered through the sea of humanity, glancing around my immediate surroundings. That was when our eyes met. She smiled broadly; almost invitingly. Her ravishing smile would make just about any man sell his hard-earned birthright. I looked in the opposite direction, avoiding her immaculately beautiful stare. I have never really been the type to shy away from a girl, but when you are in Dubai, you have to remind yourself that you are not in Los Angeles, London, Chicago, Frankfurt or Paris.
Different rules apply in Dubai when it comes to love and relationship. So, in Dubai, when love springs out of the corners unannounced, you’d be right to think, to hell with romance. Anyway, slowly, I turned in her direction for a clandestine peek. Our eyes met yet again. She smiled elegantly. Her infectious smile left me almost paralyzed. I felt an abrupt weakness in my knees. My palms began to sweat profusely. She wore a pair of fitting white trousers, a blue long sleeve shirt with folded sleeves and a pair of at brown leather shoes. On her head was a scarf that modestly covered a fraction of her black glossy, long hair.
Her eyes were bold – you could almost hear them speaking to you, waving glamorously and beckoning amorously at you. When she smiled, she had a ravishing dimple on the left side of her cheek. Damn! She is beautiful, I thought to myself, managing to stay on my feet. My legs were terribly weak to the marrow. I hauled my luggage towards the exit door, fixating my eyes firmly on the giant revolving doors ahead. I could not resist another look over my shoulders though. Carefully, I turned my neck like an owl scanning the horizon. My eyes searched frantically through the sea of human heads darting in all directions.
For a moment, she was nowhere to be found Where has she gone? I wondered my thoughts were almost audible Then she reappeared from nowhere found. Where has she gone? I wondered, my thoughts were almost audible. Then, she reappeared from nowhere. She was a short distance behind me. I turned sharply, looking ahead.
I could hear the frenetic drumming of my poor heart, beating painfully in sheer anxiety. You are in Dubai! Be careful, otherwise you’d end up in trouble, a quiet voice whispered to me deep within.
“Hello,” she said. Her voice was even more beautiful. It sounded like Celine Dion doing a rendition of ‘All by myself’.
“Hi,” I tried to say, but my throat was terribly dry. I can’t say whether my anxiety originated from the fear of walking in the slippery corridors of love in Dubai or from her stunning beauty.
“So, are you visiting Dubai for the first time?” she asked in perfect English. She was right beside me by now. Her perfume caressed my senses, leaving me utterly mesmerized. The glow of her smile almost left me swooned.
“Yes…yes…yes, I am…I am visiting Dubai for the first time,” I managed to reply, floundering and stuttering. Maybe they sent her to test me, I thought. Why would she be talking to me? What does she want? A girl that is possibly from UAE chatting me up at the airport? What is going on? I could be in trouble already for messing around with a girl.
A million thoughts flitted through my poor, beleaguered mind. “Great. I am from Dubai. I am just returning from a trip to France – Paris to be precise. Have you been to Paris?” “Yes, I have,” I replied a bit less discombobulated. My frayed nerves were not settled by any means.
“I live in London…erm…erm…I have been to Paris a few times,” I explained. “I am Azzah,” she said stretching forth her hand. I nearly peed in my pants. Why is she offering her hand for a handshake? Am I supposed to reciprocate? I stood there like a statue. My brain went dead. Every passing second felt like a light year. I could feel a ball of sweat lazily rolling down my forehead almost tauntingly. My palms felt like River Niger cascading down a rocky terrain. I quickly rubbed my palms against my jean in an effort to dry out some of the sweat. Seriously, for a moment, I thought I had gone deaf. Everything stopped. Froze.
Her hand seemed to have been hanging in front of me for years. Sluggishly, I stretched forth my hand. I looked around quickly, wondering where the police would jump out from their hiding spots to arrest me. I looked around; every passing male looked like a plain cloth policeman. One man smiled at me casually as he hauled his luggage past us. Yes, he is one of them! I thought. As soon my palm meets hers, he and his men will pounce on me and drag me into detention, I thought stressfully. Who has planned this against me? I wondered fearfully. For a split second, I held my hand in mid-air. Perhaps, my relatives in the village have engineered all this by virtue of some powerful witch doctor.
That has to be it…otherwise, why would a smashingly beautiful Arab girl be chatting me up in Dubai? I stared into her eyes, looking for some form of deceit, in case she was working with the secret police to hunt down a black African in Dubai. There was no sign of deceit in her eyes – well, I did not spot any, but given the state I was in, I could not have deciphered anything though. I nearly fainted as my hand reached hers. Slowly, I felt her tender, soft palm rob against mine. It was a rather brief handshake. I wanted to hold that tender palm of hers a bit longer, but at the same time, I wanted to stay alive.
No sooner had my palm touched hers than I pulled away, looking around again. I heard the relentless pounding of my heart against my poor lungs and rib cage. “So, what are you doing in Dubai? If you have a few days, I can show you around,” she offered. I was busy scanning around to find out if I was about to be arrested. I was so focused that I hardly heard what she had said. “What? What?” I asked. A huge ball of sweat dropped off my face and landed onto my shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked. She had noticed the streaks of sweat running riot on my forehead in a perfectly air-conditioned building.
“Yes…yes, I am ne,” I lied. I was almost having a heart attack. “So, would you like me to show you around Dubai during your visit?” She asked again. If na charm, e no go work (If this is devious move by some evil force, it will not work out), I thought to myself. Show me around Dubai? Make I survive meeting you first! “Yes, yes that would be ne,” I answered impulsively. She continued to head slowly for the exit. I noticed a white Lexus Jeep outside. “My brother is here to pick me up,” she announced. “I’d like to catch up with you while you are in town. Here is my number,” she said handing me her card. You would have thought I was suffering from Parkinson’s disease as I reached for the card. “Be sure to call me. I met this African in London some years ago.
I have been thinking of him ever since. Where do you live?” “London actually, but…but I am not sure I have met you before.” In case she was thinking I was the African guy she had met in London, I needed to clarify that. “Yes, I know it was not you. But you are just as cute. Let’s catch up. Give me a call. I will come and meet you at your hotel. Let me have your card. Do you have a card?” she whispered.
“Yes…yes. Let me look for it.” I fumbled in my wallet and found my business card. I handed it to her. “Oh, you are a doctoral student. You must be smart. I will call you. Please call me, okay?” “Okay, I will call you,” I replied as I watched her smashingly beautiful figure walk majestically towards the jeep. Call you for where? I thought to myself as she entered the jeep. She wound down the window to wave at me. I stood there like a dead frozen fish, gaping at her beauty. I closed my eyes momentarily. I could still see her curvaceous figure walking towards the jeep with her back to me. I quickly snapped my eyes open. You can’t dwell on her beauty, I admonished myself. This is Dubai! I managed to raise my hand to wave back at her, but it felt as though I had been transformed into the statue of liberty. My hand barely moved. I was sweating more profusely.
I took one last look around and the secret police was nowhere in sight. I walked brusquely outside and flagged down a taxi before the secret police appeared on the scene. I dished out instructions to the driver who quickly dropped me off at my hotel. After checking in, I locked my door firmly and even used a chair to secure it further on the inside…just in case! I had no idea where I would go if the police actually came after me, because I was on the seventh floor.
For sure, I was not going to jump through the window. I guess extreme fear can mess up one’s mind, deconstructing every form of rational thinking one once possessed. The next morning, I went to my conference still looking over my shoulder. I memorized the number on Azzah’s card and flushed the card itself down the toilet. You know, before the police ask me where I get am from. I no even add the number to my phone address book. I committed the thing to memory and left it there, jare! By evening, Azzah rang me up. As soon as I saw that number which I had committed to memory on my phone screen, I begin sweat again! Walahi, I did not take her call. I got away the first time. I am not going to go through this again, I assured myself. Later that evening, there was a knock on my door. I was so sure that the secret police had finally come to pick me up for messing around with a girl in public. I felt my heart sink into my stomach. I ran into the toilet and locked myself in. All of a sudden, I began to suffer dysentery. A violent riot erupted in my abdomen. I could hear the rumbling in there. I sat on the toilet seat and began to discharge everything I had eaten from birth, including my intestines, heart and soul. The knock got louder, causing more violent rumbling in my stomach.
What do I do now? I pondered my fate. I was on my own and the girl started talking to me. I did nothing wrong! Why me? Oh God, if you save me from this, I will behave myself for the rest of my life. I began to cut a deal with God. Then, I heard a female voice ask “Did you order room service, sir?” I guess God answered my prayer. It was a hotel staff bringing food up to someone’s room. She had gone to the wrong door.
My dysentery left me immediately – it was a miracle! Anyway, I knew no peace until my conference was over. I’d walk around in fear, wondering when they’d come for me. Each time a girl looked remotely at me, I threw my eyes in the opposite direction. Once, a girl was smiling, looking in my direction on the beach. I comot my shoes and run like sey a wicked ghost dey pursue me. Well, Azzah called a number of times and even sent me tempting text messages.
A part of me wanted to text her back…or even call her. Come on, you are just being unnecessarily afraid, I thought to myself. This might as well be love. She saw you and fell for you, right on the spot! Call her, p back! My poor mind began to ponder the possibility of ringing her back, and perhaps hanging out with her. Get thee behind me, Satan, I thought as I finally snapped out of my romantic trance. To hell with this love! I concluded. You need to be alive or at least, out of jail to enjoy love. I no want. Hoohaah!!! I concluded emphatically. I almost voiced out my thoughts as I red myself up to resist calling Azzah up.
I deleted Azzah’s text messages before my mind succumbed to the things she was saying in those texts. You do not want to know what she had said – the kind of things that cause an earthquake in a man’s mind and body! The next morning at the end of my conference, I was on a flight back to London. There is no rest for the wicked. I had no peace until my flight touched down in London and I went through security and immigration.
The moment I was back in the city, I began to sing hallelujah!!! Old boy, she was incredibly beautiful, but I had heard a lot of stories of people who got into trouble in Dubai for relationship-related issues. I could not help but laugh at myself when I finally made it back to the safety of my apartment. I even looked around through my windows after entering my apartment to make sure that the secret police was not tailing me. All the detective and espionage novels I had read had come back to play unfunny games on me. Anyway,
I am still here…having survived an incredible temptation by an amazingly beautiful face in the crowd at the airport in Dubai!
THE END
