Last time I remember a plane full of people bursting into applause was in the early 1990s when as a child I had flown from Karachi to Tehran with my parents. Last night it happened for the second time when Pegasus Air made a none too smooth landing at Beirut international airport. Children laughed, adults stood up as the plane was coasting to excitedly talk to their neighbours. I stood and worried about my hair. I was going to a house party by a music label owner from the airport. I wondered if there'd be a place in airport loo to plug in a straightener and tease some sense into hair I'd been sleeping on all morning. Caitlin, all glammed up for the party and waiting for me in the arrival lounge bbmed "Straightener???!! You're so Lebanese."
On the way down from the escalator we passed one of the ubiquitous military men sprouting all over the city waiting to give a VIP welcome to someone. An Arab man who had been sitting in front of me with his BBB (beyond belief blonde) turned to her and said, 'do you remember when I did that for you?' She laughed in fond memory. He sighed contentedly "Connections bring such freedom".
We drove into the mountains past many many check points to the penthouse where the 80s themed party was being held. To say it made my eyes pop is not saying enough. It was one hell of a welcome. Alcohol and sushi overflowed; an amazing live band; djs and women oh the women, so picture perfect, looking alike women. I couldn't tell a real nose from a fake one. During one conversation I looked over to see a beautiful girl staring discontentedly on a close up of her side profile on her blackberry, zooming in and zooming out. If I hadn't been so in the zone I might have felt a bit insecure and got a loan from the famous/infamous First National Bank (that gives out 'humanitarian" loans for plastic surgery) to look a bit more perfect. (Also I would have thought twice about dragging luggage with tickets all over it and handing it in to coat check. Image is everything.) The music was fantastic (everyone admits later but if you're cool you don't clap, you dance and look bored when the music ceases); the booze unlimited, the view from the penthouse amazing with the city lit up at night and the people ridiculously weird and out to get wasted like it was a crusade. At 2 am we drove to the 'winter Sky Bar' the new club called Life and were shown into the VIP area courtesy 'connections that bring freedom' and danced until the wee hours of the morning. It is meant to be an expensive city and it is for most part. Unless you are a woman in a party, club or bar. Everything is paid for, how, when it happens you don't know. You nod thank you and dance to Rihanna and try hard not to think of how much the city reminds you of a part of Karachi you never felt at home at but have no problems having an amazing time with so many miles away.
Based on the night I venture to say - and will later confirm if its true - that the highest sources of employment are taxi cabs, military checkpoints, valet parking (McDonald's has one).
This covers the hours from landing at 10 30pm to some time in the morning.
On the way down from the escalator we passed one of the ubiquitous military men sprouting all over the city waiting to give a VIP welcome to someone. An Arab man who had been sitting in front of me with his BBB (beyond belief blonde) turned to her and said, 'do you remember when I did that for you?' She laughed in fond memory. He sighed contentedly "Connections bring such freedom".
We drove into the mountains past many many check points to the penthouse where the 80s themed party was being held. To say it made my eyes pop is not saying enough. It was one hell of a welcome. Alcohol and sushi overflowed; an amazing live band; djs and women oh the women, so picture perfect, looking alike women. I couldn't tell a real nose from a fake one. During one conversation I looked over to see a beautiful girl staring discontentedly on a close up of her side profile on her blackberry, zooming in and zooming out. If I hadn't been so in the zone I might have felt a bit insecure and got a loan from the famous/infamous First National Bank (that gives out 'humanitarian" loans for plastic surgery) to look a bit more perfect. (Also I would have thought twice about dragging luggage with tickets all over it and handing it in to coat check. Image is everything.) The music was fantastic (everyone admits later but if you're cool you don't clap, you dance and look bored when the music ceases); the booze unlimited, the view from the penthouse amazing with the city lit up at night and the people ridiculously weird and out to get wasted like it was a crusade. At 2 am we drove to the 'winter Sky Bar' the new club called Life and were shown into the VIP area courtesy 'connections that bring freedom' and danced until the wee hours of the morning. It is meant to be an expensive city and it is for most part. Unless you are a woman in a party, club or bar. Everything is paid for, how, when it happens you don't know. You nod thank you and dance to Rihanna and try hard not to think of how much the city reminds you of a part of Karachi you never felt at home at but have no problems having an amazing time with so many miles away.
Based on the night I venture to say - and will later confirm if its true - that the highest sources of employment are taxi cabs, military checkpoints, valet parking (McDonald's has one).
This covers the hours from landing at 10 30pm to some time in the morning.
1 comment:
Yeah, you live it up like the BBBs! I watch Lucien Freud doc and eat potatoes. After louche sushi adventures, need to imagine there will be local lebanese food tales x
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