Emirates treat you pretty well in business class. The food is good, the attendants thoughtful. But, alas, the pilot controls the window shades, and he rolled them down at take off and 11 hours later hasn't rolled them back up. When you have my degree of claustrophobia, this is unpleasant, even on a big airplane like this 777.
But our delightful flight-attendant unlocked our windows, and we've been flying over Syria and Iraq, a big salt lake, and I wonder, what fool would go to war over that shite?
Most of the proximal part of our journey was over Iran, so we just hoped it wasn't a good time for the mullahs to do anything geopolitical. But we landed after crossing the gulf, got some dirhams at Dubai's huge glitzy airport, and found a taxi to take us to the Hyatt Regency Dubai Creek Heights. Very nice.
Except Marjorie had sliced open her hand with a mandoline, just before we left, and it started to bleed, so we found the emergency room at the American Hospital, maybe 150 m from our hotel, where an obliging Canadian doctor stitched her up and gave her antibiotics, for a price of course, but as the cashier said, a price less than we would have paid in the US. excerpt we have insurance in the US.
It was midnight before we hit the sack.
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