[Previously on damionedwards.com: A Quest For Sunshine]
The Careem arrived prompt at Seven. They always seem to arrive exactly on time. I have a suspicion that they park up around the corner and practice their thumb-twiddling so they can arrive exactly when requested. I said my goodbyes and settled back in the leather seats for the ride to the airport. Should I use the journey to check messages on my phone or admire the view?
I put the phone away.
Out on the highway, the rising sun, low in the East yet already burning hot, silhouettes an impressive Mosque and aptly, gold glints off the distant skyscrapers of The Marina. I know I will miss the magnificent skylines of this country. As we drive North I feel a wave of sadness to be leaving this magical place, with its heat, its deserts, its fascinating customs & unique culture. Perhaps I’ve been bitten by the Middle East bug?
Exiting the highway at the airport junction, a huge twin decked A380 defies gravity two hundred feet above my head. Sitting inside are around six hundred people oblivious to the circus trick being performed by their five hundred tonne metal tube. I know HOW these things stay up there. I know the theory. I get the physics. I can fly myself. But my eyes still refuse to believe, its part of the magic that draws me I suppose. I wondered if it would be my aircraft?
As I walk into the terminal, I no longer feel sad. Instead, I smile in the knowledge that I’ll be back…and soon.
Then I frown – I wish I wasn’t wearing my leather jacket, my jumper…and most of all – my long-johns.