We were seated in adjoining seats, Mr. Piffen and I, on the flight to the glittering city of Dubai in the UAE. It was an afternoon flight, and the two and a half hours duration afforded us an opportunity to get to know each other and exchange views.
Mr. Piffen hails from Scotland; Gleneagles to be exact, and he was visibly upset at the inconveniences his wife was facing back home. “You know, with this G-8 conference, the residents of the city have been forced into long delays in getting around. Three weeks before the conference started, and they were being interrupted in their daily routines. Their identities were being demanded non-stop like they were common criminals. US Secret Service men even closed the lane leading to a major artery from our home. Now just how is she expected to get to work?”
“What were you doing in Saudi Arabia?” I asked.
“Well, I am a professional lecturer and I had just finished a five-day course on project management at a large cement company in Rabigh. Now I’m off to Dubai to submit a paper on project management on residential planning. I am concerned however with my wife’s troubles. Why did they have to choose my town? A lot of bloody good these conferences do anyway. It’s just pomp and glory to show the world they’re up to something good.”
“Look, Blair even interrupted his stay there for a quick trip to London right after the bombings, to show off his concern to the people with that cheesy smile of his. And then he went back like nothing happened. My God, over thirty people died. You’d think they’d do away with this useless meeting, and chuck away everything else.”
“You know, Mr. Piffen, every effort to find these criminals who’ve masterminded and carried out this latest attack should be taken, and their identities made public. And then they should be made to stand in judgment. There’s simply no room in this world for such murderous offenders who have not even the slightest regard for human life.”
“I sympathize with you and condole all those who may have suffered a loss in this latest attack. It is a shame what this world is coming to. Aggression, killings and dying seem to headline the news nowadays. And the sorry part is that it is the innocent who are at the brunt end of it, Mr. Piffen.”
“You’re absolutely correct. That is why I cannot for the life of me understand why these G-8 leaders are even bothering to continue with their program, when it has been known before hand that certain proposals that will serve to promote a better life for our children like the environment are certain to be rejected by certain countries.”
“Oh, you mean by Mr. Bush and his stand against it?” I inquired.
“He is just a bloody stupid simpleton as far as I’m concerned,” growled back Mr. Piffen. “And adding to my wife’s inconveniences is certainly not going to add to his diminishing popularity among the Scots. Can’t wonder what goodness the Yanks see in this bloke. But politics are politics. And none dirtier than in the New World.”
We were on approach to Dubai airport. Turning back from the aircraft window, he remarked. “Aah, the bustling city. But a bit like Las Vegas. Plastic. No natives around. They’ve lost their culture. I prefer Abu Dhabi. Still has the charm of the desert. And you’d be sure to see the natives there.”
“There we are, Mr. Piffen. In Vegas East. Do enjoy your stay here though, short as it may be. And who knows. With a bit of patience, maybe your wife will soon forget all the inconveniences. Good day.”
