Once upon a time, in a sandbox far, far away, there was a wee skinny lad (aka Hunter) who loved a young beautiful maiden (aka Chelsea). They saw eachother every day at school but her parents (aka the Korean monsters) were very protective, so the two young lovebirds needed to keep their relationship a secret and found it hard to see eachother often. After many months of agony, the young maiden's father (who had previously forbidden her to see any young man who did not have squinted eyes or owned a noodle factory) decided the family should move back to Korea before Chelsea lost her heritage and traditions for good.
On one very hot Thursday a few weeks ago, the wee lad risked a heat stroke & bicycled all the way from his home in the Marina, to the young maiden's residence in the Meadows division. Her family lived there with her aunt until they were to leave Dubai. The family was out for the day but just to be on the safe side, the wee lad parked his bicycle well hidden, behind the garden wall of an empty neighbor home, locked and leaned it up against a tree.
Three hours later, the young couple heard the family return so the wee lad climbed - Hollywood Style - out of the window, onto the balcony and jumped down one story to the hot ground, sneaked around the front and bolted across the street to the empty house. Only with great despair to find his silver Specialized Hardrock mountain horse was gone!! Odin and Thor have mercy on the poor soul who had walked off with the pauper's bike!!
He summoned not only the Nordic Gods but the gate security people, who with bobbling heads told him that some random gardener probably took it, lock and all, so he could get around to more jobs in father neigborhoods.
The wee lad sought the console of his parents. His mother is a cracker at practical things and she immediately contacted the insurance company, downloaded the forms on-line and proceeded to fill out the 5 pages of seemingly tedious information. At one point she came upon "number of police report / case". OK, no big deal thought the mother. She called the non-emergency number listed in the "Contact us" section of the Dubai police website. "Madam please dial the emergency number 999" - but, eh, this is not an emergency!?! "It's OK madam, please call them and they will handle". Ok, ok, ok the mother thought with a bobbling head.
After dialing 999 and getting a female operator on the line, the mother was informed that they would send a patrol car to the site of the crime. Oh no, no...we don't live there - gasped the mother. Ok, we will have someone call you back. An hour later a police officer (?) called the mother and asked what jewelry was missing? HUH?? No - the mother explained her wee lad's bike had been stolen from the Meadows. The officer asked what house? So the mother explained, Meadows 3, street 6, house no. 45. OK we will send a car. NO! NO! We don't live there. We live in the Marina, the mother again gasped. "Madam, why the bike in Meadows?"
Starting to break a sweat (though inside in the A/C, the mother started to explain the whole fairytale of the wee lad and the maiden....only to realize the person at the other end understaood 10% of the tale. OK, we will send a car. Arrgghh!!
After 3 hours of phone tag, the mother collected her wits. Told the wee lad they had no option but to drive over to Meadows to meet the car that was being sent.
The wee lad and his mother sat in their airconditioned car for 40 minutes while waiting for the Dubai police. Finally a car approached. It wasn't Starsky and Hutch, nor Miami Vice. Let's just say the officers reminded the mother of Col. Khadaffi and his young gopher. The odd couple walked around the front of the empty home as if the silver bike would all of a sudden miraculously appear. Going through the whole story of the young love birds for a third time, only to get a blank look from Col. Khadaffi, the mother thought - (insert large text cloud above her head here) Sigh, I'm getting nowhere....they are focused on why the bike was parked across the street. We have to get them re-focused on the crime at hand!
Always action oriented, the mother snapped the Colonel back into focus - "hey, Khadaffi....look it: the bike was taken, lock and all, and is probably in Sharja by now, having been transported with 50 other poor bikes, stuffed like sardines in a people-trafficking manner, in a hot container accross the border. Do you think you can write a report, provide me with the copy and we can all get out of the 48 C friggin sauna??" Madam, we don't write reports. We are emergency patrol for highway only (WHAT?? Why the hell (she didn't say that out loud as swearing is a deportable offense) did you come here then ??
Khadaffi and his cohort discussed something in Arabic for quite a while. In the meantime the Indian Royal Guard from the gate house had arrived and were talking to Hunter about how a gardener had probably taken the bi.....yeah yeah, we know that part of the story already - let's fast forward to where you help us get a piece of green paper (you never want the pink copy as it means you are the guilty party) so we can get the hell out of dodge. Ok, ok, ok...."Madam the officer tells me you have to wait for the Captain" WHAAAT????? The mother asked the Indian gate keeper if the Sheikh would come too? The Indian clearly didn't get it, so she thought - right, better zip it now. Yep, sure enough, Khadaffi confirmed that the Captain and the CSI Dubai team would need to come and fingerprint the scene and take photos. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? The mother asked, with a stiff and very forced smile, how they thought they would lift prints from the bark of a tree? "Madam, the team is very professional and this is protocol"....PROTOCOL?? How about protocol-ing a piece of green paper right into my hands as this is now getting to be a farce.
So the wee lad and his - by now - fuming mother, entered their cold vehicle only to wait for the captain for another 45 minutes. The mother doesn't smoke, but she sure felt like a cigarette at this point - followed by a rather large Martini to calm her Scandinavian Viking temper.
Finally a second white and green car drove up. This time we expected Gary Sinise and his furrowed brow to appear. Nope, no such luck - Saddam Hussein himself stepped out of the vehicle, with a full army uniform, lots of gold and colors on his chest and a cap that would make the Paris catwalk fashionistas jealous. Looking very stern, he gazed at the mother and son with a contemptuos stare that pierced the windshield in her Toyota Prado. Never one to be intimidated for long, the mother hopped out of her car and introduced herself to Saddam. Hmmnn, hello - was his muddled reply. "Your bike stolen here" he asked Hunter and pointed to the tree. "yes" replied Hunter. "Why you park bike here? Not your house!" No, the house is empty said Hunter proceeding to explain that his girlfriend's parents could not know he was visiting. Saddam ignored him and sternly said, "but someone own the house, this is not legal, a crime, to put your bike here". Uh oh, - the mother quickly acknowledged that "yes, we fully understand - you are right your almighty male chauvenistic dictator" (OK that wasn't said out loud due to the previously explained fear of deportation) - "but you see: the house is emp.... - HOW YOU KNOW THIS HOUSE EMPTY - Saddam rudely interrupted her....SOMEONE OWN IT! Sh*t!! The mother and Hunter quickly glanced at eachother. She looked at Saddam and told him with a sweet smile - that "yes, we understand, this lad is only 15 years old and slightly stupid and lovesick, so he wasn't thinking straight and if you can be so kind as to provide a teeny weeny report, we will be out of hair as quick as you can say Allah".
His mouth must have been dry because otherwise the mother was certain that spit would have landed on her while he said: "GO TO JEBEL ALI" - having lost the battle but NOT the war, the mother and the wee lad got into the car and drove off - FUMING and asking Allah to hail down all sorts of grasshoppers onto Saddam and Khadaffi the same afternoon.
Exhausted, hot, sweaty and very confused - the mother and the wee lad returned to their penthouse and pondered what lay in store for them in Jebel Ali.
....To be continued....very soon....like tomorrow....stay tuned!!
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