Another Excerpt from the Bad Girl Diary...
Four Years ago:
I am in Salalah for an event. An Outdoor event. An event of nightmarish proportions, involving no fewer than 200 ROP personell, 60 municipality staff, 4 of my own staff, 6 freeloaders, my boss (The Juice), His Cousin (Sheikh Your-Booty), and 25 bankers, released from the confines of thier desks, blinking in the sunlight, baffled expressions flitting across thier pale faces. An event that requires an entire flatbed semi truck to haul all the vehicles and Equipment, plus one Mitsubishi Canter truck.
We have been in Salalah two days, and I have slept about an hour, total. I have been stared at and harrased by about twenty million Saudi men and have been assigned my own ROP Captain and regular officer to thwart thier ever more annoying advances. I have just spent the last three hours picking up rocks in the company of my increasingly unhappy banker "helpers". Two of my staff went on a drinking binge last night and are nowhere to be found, The Juice has missed his flight, and Sheikh Your Booty is complaining about his room at the Hilton.
As you might imagine, I am not a particularly happy girl, and I am hating Salalah, and hating Saudi for creating these men, whom I cannot avoid, short of locking myself in the hotel room and never leaving again.
Anyway, I digress, this isn't really about the event, or the men.
I am driving the big Mitsubishi Canter truck through Salalah. I love driving that thing, because nobody expects to see a girl behind the wheel. I rock up to the traffic lights, and a moment later, a black SUV with tinted windows and Saudi plates rolls up beside me. Up front, two men in thier mid thirties roll down the windows, stare, and make some unfriendly faces, and say a few unfriendly words at me. The light goes green, and they start to pull away. The back window comes down, and out of the back leans a Saudi Ninja, Niqab flaping in the wind, one gloved hand extended out the window giving me the thumbs up.
I don't know why that story makes me so happy, but it does. I like to imagine I'll run into her again one day, and we'll go out for lunch, chat for hours, and I can teach her to drive a truck. Unlikely I guess.
Appologies to the many, many, many, Saudi men who are not letcherous, bigoted, mysoginistic assholes. I can only assume that you guys take your wives somewhere better for the summer holidays.