Brian Conley's News & Notes

I spent last New Year’s Eve with my family in Tennessee, and New Year’s Day on a plane to Goa, India, where I spent the largest part of 2010. I certainly didn’t think I’d end up in a similar situation a year later. This year I found myself in the Burj Khalifa/Dubai Mall metro station just minutes before midnight.

It was a madhouse, I mean packed to the gills. As I left the platform on the Jebel Ali side, the side of the station away from the Burj Khalifa(and consequently out of site of the upcoming fireworks) I noticed a very strange thing. Although the floor was packed so there was barely space to move, one of two staircases between the floor and platform was nearly empty. I thought it must be my lucky day, but as I was moving toward the empty staircase, a lone man was coming up the stairs. He looked me in the eye and warned, “I’d not go down there if I was you, its getting very dangerous!”

You might be wondering just what I was doing alone in Dubai on New Year’s Eve. Thats especially likely if you’re aware I’ve already spent nearly a third of the past year away from my family. Without getting too much into the details, essentially I recently received the opportunity to have my expenses covered on another trip to Afghanistan. Due to the holidays and my desire to have at least a short vacation with my family, as well as an upcoming post-holiday move, I found myself traveling somewhat suddenly and urgently.

So when I arrived in Dubai, to find the airport customs surprisingly mauled with New Year’s Eve travelers, I was a bit frustrated. I’d been looking forward to dropping my luggage and spending a few hours with a couple beers and a hookah, particularly after I got word that the Burj Khalifa was holding a fireworks extravaganza as its official opening celebration on New Year’s Eve. Making the judgement that I’d be just able to make it in time for the fireworks, but only if I took the metro.

Outside the streets were a disaster. Cars were backed up as far as anyone could see. Now I’ve not spent a lot of time in Dubai, 2010 marked my first visit actually, but I’ve now been to the city-state a half dozen times in the last 6 months. That said, I have never seen traffic like this. I was glad to be on the metro. Dubai’s metro, for those of you who might be wondering, is a bit like the metro in Washington DC, only cleaner and more spiffy-futuristic.

But what I saw on the ground floor of the Dubai Mall metro station was decidely more apocalyptic-futuristic. A mass of humanity convulsed between the stairway and the exits, a seething crescent of pushing, doing their best to exit the station. As I rounded the stairway, it became clear there were Emirati security forces preventing individuals from leaving the station. With no clear exit from the station, I decided to head across the platform and catch a car in the opposite direction.

I’ve missed a key detail here, punctuating the low rumble of the teeming crowd were periodic staccato bursts of applause and cheering exultation. It seemed the fireworks, visible from the opposite platform, on the Burj Khalifa side, had begun. When I made it up to the platform, I was surprised to find only a small group of individuals trying to get a good look through the windows. It was spectacular, even from the perspective of craning one’s neck, only able to see a slight section of the pyrotechnic display.

Although the display was huge and impressive in design, what I saw was also uninspired and repetitious. After a few minutes of watching I jumped on the metro, hoping to get to my friend’s apartment, drop off my luggage and find a bar to get a quick drink before bed. The sight from the metro train was phenomenal. I was hoping to take the metro back one station and grab a cab back to the Burj, unfortunately the road parallel to the metro had become a parking lot. Traffic was bumper to bumper, drivers were standing around outside their cars, no one was going anywhere. I’ve heard Dubai used to be like this, but in all of my visits to Dubai, I’ve never seen the city like it was on New Year’s Eve. There were two Indian guys in my metro car making friends with everyone. They were elated by the traffic, one of them told me it was like “old” Dubai was back in business. It was just one day, but the impression of many was that Dubai was finally bouncing back, capital and debauchery were on the march.

I said goodby to my new friends and set off to find the apartment I was looking for. Unfortunately the residential areas of Dubai are arguably even more difficult to navigate and more homogenous than suburban America. Looming, Sovietesque concrete buildings often called “hotel apartments” which are present all over Dubai, semi-longterm housing for the various mostly foreign contractors and others constantly moving in and out of Dubai.

I probably asked ten doormen and a half dozen cab drivers before I finally located my friend’s hotel apartment. Given the time and my midday flight to Afghanistan the next day, I ended my evening at one of the local 24 hour sidewalk cafes, with a vegetable patty burger and a pepsi. Even at 2 or 3 am the city was still hopping, and a number of Indian young men, retiring from New Year’s revelry, took my table as a I paid the bill and headed back to my friend’s cozy “hotel apartment.”