I love contradictions. I love having my mind changed with a blow to the head. A less-than-shocking experience is simply a less-than experience to me. However, the simple fact of incongruity, as I saw it, was lurking in the shadows, prepared to pounce. And pounce it did, in the form of a drunken Irishman and a little chat about prostitutes. The fact of prostitution in the UAE was not new to me.
We had chosen the cigar bar for the start of the evening, and myself, my husband and our friend tucked into Jameson and waters and some good cigars. We were cozy in a little booth when a gentleman at the bar chimed in on our conversation. I asked him to join us and hilarity ensued. He indicated that he had lived in the UAE for five years, was married, and worked in education.
When I asked if he had any experience with prostitutes during his time here, it was apparent that he was a bit uncomfortable with the question. To me, that is a fairly clear indication that the answer is yes, but I was more than willing to humor him if he wanted to speak in the hypothetical. His tone was somewhat disdainful as he waxed geographic. Ethiopia, Eastern Europe, Philippines , and Thailand, take your global pick. He never went as far as to get downright racist, but it was clear that there was no love lost for the Ethiopian hookers.
The Holiday Inn is inferior to the Hilton, for instance. He glanced around the cigar bar as if to make his point. As the beer continued to flow, his tongue loosened and began to wag in earnest. His earlier disdain for Ethiopian women became quite apparent as he described, in detail, an encounter a few years prior. While his wife was out of the country, his loneliness got the better of him and a hotel rendezvous occurred.
However, he got more than he bargained for when, as he was trying to catch his breath, his wallet mysteriously disappeared along with his companion as she swept out the door.
