The Travels of ibn Battuta (Part 2)
“Park or drive?” he asked himself as his distressingly small car puttered along in the 2kph traffic. “Park?” he mused. Radio One cackled in the d.j.'s distinctive South London accent, “Oh, you poor sods on Sheikh Zayed! A pedestrian-camel-SUV-truck accident’s blocked all fifteen lanes out by Interchange 93. News next!”
He took stock: the two days’ supply of water he'd set out with was now had no more than a rationed six hours. Food? Bad news: the U.S. Army-surplus MRE’s were significantly diminished by rat pilferage. (“In the news, the Dubai Municipality today assured that the rat infestation on Shk. Zayed was completely under control and that plans to fully eradicate them will be completed within several months.”) Emaar banners fluttered weakly. Dashboard thermometer now 55, but workers still high in the scaffolding of the second, third, and fifth largest buildings in the world, each with interconnecting skybridges. One tumbled off; the others continued. On the passenger seat tabloid headlines scream of Emaar’s newest artificial land-island, The Blob, “Evoking the Free Spirit of 1950s American Horror Films!”
He sighed and turned down the satellite television. Write! His novel “Jam!” was stuck in low gear. In his daydreams: film rights. The heroic commuter: Keanu Reeves? He pulled out his voice recorder. “Chapter 140. Acceleration!” But his heart wasn’t into it.
When they finish the 1511, he thought, things would get better: only four hours out into the Empty Quarter at 120kph, a fast return counter-traffic. Home. Life.
He took stock: the two days’ supply of water he'd set out with was now had no more than a rationed six hours. Food? Bad news: the U.S. Army-surplus MRE’s were significantly diminished by rat pilferage. (“In the news, the Dubai Municipality today assured that the rat infestation on Shk. Zayed was completely under control and that plans to fully eradicate them will be completed within several months.”) Emaar banners fluttered weakly. Dashboard thermometer now 55, but workers still high in the scaffolding of the second, third, and fifth largest buildings in the world, each with interconnecting skybridges. One tumbled off; the others continued. On the passenger seat tabloid headlines scream of Emaar’s newest artificial land-island, The Blob, “Evoking the Free Spirit of 1950s American Horror Films!”
He sighed and turned down the satellite television. Write! His novel “Jam!” was stuck in low gear. In his daydreams: film rights. The heroic commuter: Keanu Reeves? He pulled out his voice recorder. “Chapter 140. Acceleration!” But his heart wasn’t into it.
When they finish the 1511, he thought, things would get better: only four hours out into the Empty Quarter at 120kph, a fast return counter-traffic. Home. Life.
posted by BarfUser | 7:09 AM
1 Comments:
Agha,I am curious when u chose the name "barf", what were you seriously thinking?
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