No Plane, No Gain

Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Certain things in life are nonnegotiable.

Putting gas in your car.  Having gas after Burger King.  Wearing clothes at the bank.  Snatching the last potato skin as the waitress tries to pull the basket away. 

it takes perfect timing and years of practice

On this year-long travelganza, I made certain promises to myself.  Nonnegotiable agenda items that needed to happen for this year to be successful.  While 90% of my campaign promises included ‘never leave a tot behind’, I was running out of time to fulfill the rest.

What do you do when you realize, in the 11^th hour, that the year’s almost up and you haven’t done any extreme sports?  You google ‘best places in the world to skydive’, pick one from the top ten, and book a ticket.

Who flies to Dubai just to skydive!?!?

i do what i like

Sure, I sandboarded and quad biked in Morocco… got stuck in mud up to my va-j on an assault course in Ireland… dance hiked in Nepal… dance raked & tripped balls in Thailand… and chauffeured two Vietnamese babies through the wrong way of traffic on a motorbike… but survey says that the closest I came to ‘extreme’ was power eating through Northern Italy and flirting with ganache in Switzerland.

I had yet to strap a Russian on my back and fall out of an airplane soooooo let’s do this.

If you’ve followed along since the beginning, you know not to ask questions.  I needed an epic adrenaline rush and I needed it now.  No time to waste, I headed straight to Skydive Dubai, lit’trally signed my life away, and browsed their extensive trucker hat collection while I waited for my name to be called.

Excitement level through the roof, my skydive instructor, Anatoli, harnessed me up head-to-thigh while my very attractive personal photographer/videographer from Brazil…… explained how he would take the freefall pictures with his tongue.  How the camera on his helmet was connected to a straw in his mouth, and how he’d glide his tongue innnnnn.  And out.  Innnnnn and then out.  So smooth and effortless.  And then, faster for burst photos.  In and out and in and out and in and out and DID IT GET REALLY HOT IN HERE?  Is anyone hot?  I am VERY hot.  Like, uncomfortably warm.

show me one more time

Point of the story, when you spend upwards of SIX HUNDRED EFFING DOLLARS to skydive one time total…… you get your own very attractive film crew named JP.  (The only downside of skydiving in one of the ‘best places in the world to skydive’ is the sky-high rate.  Dubai bye savings.)

But, back to my Russian cosmonaut pulling out all the stops with his stand-up comedy schtick, including the old, ‘Is this your first time skydiving…… cuz, no way!  It’s mine too!’  Ohhhhh, Anatoli!  You’re too much!

We got onto the plane last (out of 16 people) and took our seats right next to the door, which they inexplicably thrust all the way open in the middle of our ascent.  Anatoli totally told me not to panic (say that five times fast), but it was the first time all day I started to panic.  I squeezed his knee for the duration of the climb and fought the fight or flight instinct to cry.  (Even though I’m very cloudy on what constitutes the fight and flight responses in the case of voluntarily throwing oneself out of a twin-engine airplane.)

When we were finally in the right position, centered over the man-made, palm-tree-shaped islands, I wanted to confirm what I’d be dreading for the past ten minutes: that, since we were seated directly in front of the exit door…… we’d be the first to jump.  What did Anatoli say?  He said, ‘No — zee first is zee pilot’.

ha ha ha this is NO TIME FOR JOKES, MISTER

Let’s blast through a picture slideshow play-by-play to showcase JP’s extensive portfolio of tongue pics.

yay! i’m so excited!

i think i just sharted

it’s not so much a ‘jump’ as a 2-person, top-heavy reverse trust fall into nothingness

hips out, legs back, look up and smiiiiiiiiile

embarrassingly happy

please excuse the excessive use of hang loose. at 120 mph, my only thought became ‘weeeee!’

this view over the palm jumeirah is why i flew to dubai

LOOK AT THIS

oh no

wait, something’s wrong

just kidding, i’m dancing

skydive dancing, the new rage

huggin the bowl

and playin the piano

anatoli wanted in on the action

too much, too soon

Then Anatoli pulled the parachute and started loosening & undoing half my harnesses…… to which I helplessly thought, ‘I don’t care if you *think* you’re making me more comfortable, please KEEP ALL STRAPS AND HARNESSES AS TIGHT AS POSSIBLE AND TIGHTEN IF APPROPRIATE.’

i will CUT you. #hangloose

Also…… not to complain but the corkscrew spins post chute-opening, where the thigh harness digs into the corner of your peeps and you caaaaaaaaaan’t breathe until he stops spinning, were my least favorite.

next to dry mouth…

this guy……

Skydiving over the palm islands was the only reason I flew to Dubai, but what I didn’t account for…… what I couldn’t have planned for…… was my new Pakistani family.

Couchsurfing saved the day, yet again.

As a quick refresher, www.couchsurfing.com is a website that enables travelers to connect with locals and stay in their houses (or apartments) for free.  But it’s more than just a free place to crash with absolutely no strings attached – it’s an intimate glimpse into the lives of locals; it’s cultural exchange and travel story swaps; it’s friendly faces in a foreign city, tour guides, knowledge banks, dinner dates; it’s (quite possibly) instant camaraderie and forever friends.

I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking holy shit, that sounds sketchy and dangerous and why is the Law & Order theme song getting louder by the second bum BUM do do do do doooooo?

in the criminal justice system…

OK OK, I get it I get it.  But the platform makes it super easy to avoid nutballs.  All you need to do is filter out anyone without reviews, without references, without friends, and without pictures…… and look for hosts with a spare bedroom because personal space.  It’s foolproof!  Well, almost foolproof.  The occasional nutjob can still slip through the cracks but that’s true of any Fortune 500 company or oval office.

Two days before I left Morocco for Dubai, I dodged one such nutjob.  My fifth time couchsurfing and far from my first rodeo, I’m not sure what happened.  I don’t know if I was pranked or punk’d or heck, even catfished, but the Dubai host I’d arranged to stay with started to talk dirty to me.

It started innocently enough with her asking me to check out her new profile pic on WhatsApp.

Soooooooo, what the fuck.  After Maria started asking me what EYE would wear in different situations, I turned into Nancy Reagan and just said no.  Thankfully, with only 2 days left on the game clock (before entering Dubai, homeless), a Pakistani guy named Dili Jan came to my rescue.  Due to my last-minute pickle, I couldn’t hold out for my usual spare bedroom, so I agreed to sleep on Dili Jan’s family room floor (next to his 11-year-old daughter who slept on a mattress next to mine).

The six days that ensued felt like a family vacation.  As in, I was on vacation with my Pakistani family.  What is happening.  Two days ago, I was complimenting a tattooed swinger on her athleticism…… and now I was bunking with a family of three bursting to show me all that Dubai had to offer!

what a funny world

so, so funny

We cruised through the palm islands with their glitzy Atlantis luxury hotels (and foreign guests taking pictures of lamp posts and hallway light fixtures and blank walls).  We ate every free sample in the free sample WONDERLAND that is the Global Village (a multicultural theme park with attractions & rides & food samples from 90+ countries).  We gawked at Burj Khalifa (the tallest building in the world with 163 stories), Burj Al Arab (with its iconic sail shape), and we took a million and one family photos at the Dubai Miracle Garden (the world’s largest natural flower garden with an estimated 50 million flowers).

do NOT miss the Turkish ice cream at Global Village

or the mf bosnian kebab over at Bosnia House

best friends share gol gappe (pakistani potato puffs)

and sightsee in oversized puma shirts, straight from the airport

and have way too much fun on their 11-year-old roommate’s photo apps

Did my Pakistani family MAKE my trip to Dubai?  Without question.  They showered me with relentless hospitality at every turn; they cooked for me; they drove me around; they introduced me to their friends; they brought me along to parties and they INSISTED upon all of it!  Dili Jan’s wife even let me borrow one of her fancy tops (day one) because my bag was delayed, and we needed to go OUT.

To the mall.

i tried on 5 different tops and this is the only one that fit

fancy tops with a side ‘a cheese

Bless their big hearts, my Pakistani family even pretended I didn’t have stomach issues when we all know I did.  Remember when I said nothing could ever go wrong in a pastry puff?  Well.  ONE questionable street pastry from Morocco debunked my entire theory.  Turns out the brownish-greyish stuff (hiding underneath that black olive) was none other than old tuna, that had been baking in the sun for hours.  Did I finish it even after I realized?  Of course.  But I still want my fifteen cents back.

OK, switching gears, wrapping up and steering the conversation away from my bowel movements which, honestly, weren’t even that bad……

alright already, jesus

MOVING on…… if not for Dili Jan, his family, and Skydive Dubai…… I don’t think I would have liked Dubai all that much.  The architecture’s stunning, the long, white, flowing robes of most of the men are stunning, and the malls are really quite something – the Dubai Mall with the world’s largest choreographed light and water show, an aquarium, underwater zoo, ice rink, atrium and waterfall, the Mall of the Emirates with it’s indoor ski slope and trampoline park, and Marina Mall with the world’s longest urban zipline to name a few – but that’s all Dubai is.

Skyscrapers and shopping malls and sprawling complexes.  Hot, dry and impersonal.  All excess and chain stores.  Void of eccentricity.  Void of sincerity.  And void of pedestrians.  At least we know people still go to the mall these days.  I thought everyone ordered everything from Amazon in their underpants.

Extra special shout out to my Pakistani family for everything.  For the chicken biryani and all the cold drinks.  For the plain white rice when I was dealing with that pastry puff.  And for taking me to the Dubai Mall sound & light show, where Michael Jackson’s Thriller lit up Burj Khalifa at dusk.

Word to the wise- a couple of Dubai attractions are only open 6 months a year (including Global Village and the Miracle Garden).  I was lucky enough to arrive on opening week for both.

I’d say ‘catch you on the flip side’, but I lit’trally just backwards somersaulted out of a flimsy la-z-boy in Bahrain Airport’s premium lounge and the emotions are still fresh.  Thank you, swarm of businessmen in suits coming to my rescue but I’m fine, I swear. I fall a lot.  I just fell out of an airplane!  Grab me two pieces ‘a chocolate cake and I’ll tell you the whole story…

once upon a time, in a middle eastern land far, far away…

there was party hair, ready for more action

Happy Holidays, y’all! And, as always, thanks so much for reading!

Expect a post about my FINAL 2018 escapade (hint: Egypt) before a final final, behind the scenes, monster, end of year recap. Toodles! Ciao! xoxo