Dubai. Apparently not just one huge airport.

We are at Dubai airport, waiting for our connecting flight to Gatwick. I appear to have lost the rest of the band. There are rather a lot of people here, most of them sleeping. It is 4am. Technically speaking. Danny has gone to buy a shisha pipe. My eyebrows feel weird. 

I am experiencing that disarmingly euphoric jetlag hangover that you get when you fly long-haul and end up spending a string of lost hours in some distant airport waiting for a connecting flight. I have no idea whether I am still drunk or not. I have also watched too many poorly-executed rom-coms on the plane and I fear that this may have damaged my ability to interact with normal human beings. I know, I know, I only have myself to blame for that. It’s the airline food. The chemicals compromise my sense of taste. 

When we arrived in the Middle East about an hour ago, Tony informed us that he’d just received a text message from our Irish cohorts Fred The Band offering us a last-minute gig in Cork. This Friday. Could it be done? Would it in fact make more sense just to stay here and connect straight to Ireland instead of London? Perhaps not. Mustn’t submit to delirium.  

Incidentally, this is my 8th trip to Dubai and I have never once stepped outside the airport. Perhaps I am missing something. Allegedly there’s a whole city outside. Jury’s still out for me on that one.

The Korean Tour has been a resounding success, notwithstanding the fact that we once again failed to eat any dog whatsoever. Unless that funny-looking sausage on the plane wasn’t in fact veal as the menu claimed. You can never be too sure.

Chris Lightyear