No, not the late night booty call... Lana and I exchanged looks and we both knew what it meant.
"Guys, I'm going to go meet him." Rosie pleaded, guiltily and I tried to persuade her to stay but all to no avail. We watched her walk right back up the grand staircase we had walked down just two minutes earlier.
"Why is she doing this? She's just going to get hurt in the end!" She was really upset about it. See, Rosie had trapped herself in a situation many single women in Dubai have been in - getting involved with the married man. Rosie was at the beck and call of an 'unhappily' married Syrian colleague (yet another no-go there), who promised her that his arranged marriage was not because of love and that if he could leave her, he would. We all knew (even Rosie, deep down inside), that this would never happen. But she was in love, and it's hard to budge a strong-willed girl in love.
I tried to remember the fact that Rosie was a big girl and could look after herself, and made my way over to the bar to buy Lana a much needed drink.
"Ok, but one vodka-red bull for me, because I'm driving home". We clinked glasses and danced away.
As the club got more crowded, we got shoved around between all the people we found ourselves as wallflowers up against the back wall. This worked well for us, since it gave us room to actually dance.
"Be right back, look after the drinks while I go to the bathroom". I snuck away for a moment to the nearby bathroom and after doing what I needed to do, gave the attendant 5 dirhams for fixing the back of my hair and giving me a mint.
Back out at our tiny cocktail table, Lana was being hounded by some creep.
"Get lost, dude" she was saying, but he was the type of creep who wouldn't take no for an answer.
We decided to get out of our little corner and back at the bar. We ordered one more vodka-red bull for Lana, and a cola for me. Halfway through our drinks, although we were on the other side of the club, creep found us and starting grinding on Lana. I was shocked and appalled that she wasn't pushing him away.
Something was definitely wrong.
She was leaning into him and he had his creepy hands all over her and my eyes were being molested. Lana was an ice queen in the clubs, if a guy even thought of looking her way or approaching her, she'd give a death stare mean enough make cute little puppies yelp in fear. Her behaviour was not normal.
He tried kissing her and even tried walking her out of the club!! I couldn't stand my friend being subject to this creepy voodoo man's hands anymore. So I picked her up and as she dragged her heels, I dragged her up and out of the club.
While waiting for my car at the valet stand in front of the Fairmont, Lana staggered about with a glassy look in her eyes.
"Are you ok?"
"Yeah, I feel fine. Well, I feel drunk, actually, I want to throw up..."
Just as my car pulled up to the drive.
We made it half way home before Lana started to feel even worse, so I pulled over into McDonalds on Jumeirah Beach Road and we sat in the parking lot for a bit. She flung the car door open, ran out and bent over into the small gardens at the near the curb, retching. Everyone passing by stared at us, which I guess was an uncommon sight to see, but still, it was 2am on a Friday night, surely they'd know what was happening! I wasn't really sure how to act to my friend because I'd never been in a situation where someone was throwing up constantly for more than 10 minutes. I ran into the McDonalds and asked for a large cup of water. When I came out again, there was a giant white Cadillac Escalade parked next to my tiny little car. So many empty parking spaces, why did they have to park right next to mine?
I crouched next to Lana, who was pale as a ghost, and handed her the water to drink. She drunk it up, then threw up a bit more. I was so scared, I wanted to take her to a hospital.
The driver's window on the Escalade shot down and a handsome, concerned face peered out.
"Are you girls OK?"
"We're fine, go away." Lana snarled. Ok, so she was getting back to normal.
I looked up at the mystery man and shrugged my shoulders a bit.
"Here, I want to help you..." He got out of his truck and ran toward McDonalds.
"He seems nice..." I said to Lana,
"Yeah, right". She replied. Yep, she was definitely coming back.
He returned with a drink tray full with four tall cups of water.
"Here, drink this. Make sure you stay hydrated".
This guy was for real. No creepiness in his concern, no ulterior motives, he was genuinely worried.
He stuck around and chatted with us a bit more. He gave advice on what to do and assured me she'd be fine. He definitely kept the whole situation from geting out of control (ie, me freaking out and hysterically driving her over to Al Wasl Hospital). Lana thanked him for his time, said she was feeling a bit better and that he could go, as it was now definitely an odd hour of the night.
He obliged, and handed her his business card. He (our handsome prince) hopped back into (onto) his white Escalade (white horse) and sped off into the night (rode off in the sunset). We squealed and giggled and I told Lana she must, must, must call him the next day.
After the weekend, Lana felt better and Rosie's heart was still intact. A satisfactory end to an odd night.
Things I learnt from this experience:
Don't ever take your eyes off your drink, even for a second (Lana is positive her drink was spiked, because she had never reacted to alcohol in this way before)
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