I was stuck in my hotel room, had just had some Papa Murphy’s Pizza (tipped by Australia’s Twiggy), was looking at the screen of my laptop with resentment, figuring it out it would be a few hours before all the game files Dubai Sports had provided me were converted into a workable Apple ProRes. What do I do for a couple of hours?
Volunteers knew what’s up, and after a quick message exchange, I was on my way down to the lobby to hail a cab with some of them. Destination: Dubai Marina. We make it there. Polished black marble floors are the first thing I notice. This place has got to be on the upper class side. Get in the elevator. 30th floor. Nothing to it. We knock on the door and it immediately swings open to reveal our two hosts. Currier Islands Matt Wright and Greg Alling greet us with a warm hello, how do you do, glad you all made it.
I pop my head in the huge living room to find it filled with frisbee people from different countries and backgrounds, different ages, and different ethnicities. Make my way to the bar, Jason Conrad was behind it and stayed behind it for the remainder of the night. I came up to him and he immediately asked me what I needed. Had been off booze for a while now. Thinking of having a fruit cocktail. Maybe a virgin piña colada. Mmm, tough choice. Blurted out vodka with orange juice. Well, I guess that’s good and healthy too. Went around the place nursing my drink, stepped out to balcony for a quick glance at the skyline.
Damn, it just hit me: I am in Dubai. The city lights brighten up the otherwise dark desert night, a red boat was sailing through the Marina, the moon was well placed in the night sky, the balcony full of frisbee players smiled and talked about the day, sharing their lives with strangers and friends. Wind picked up. 30th floor wind. I better go back inside. What is that in the back of the room? Dance-off? Better go over there and investigate.
Uganda vs India. They took it seriously. Uganda started exhibiting an excessive command of their bodies, getting close and personal to their partners in a sensual frolic. India responds with some bollywood style choreography, they are moving fast and getting the crowd hyped up, everybody joins in trying to do their best to follow the jittery steps, from sways to spins, a twist here and there, a lot of hopping and whirling. Suddenly the Indians all leave. I guessed they had an early game. Dance-off is over. Who won? Nobody cared.
I talked to our hosts for a little bit before my chariot turned back into a pumpkin. They had switched their apparel to expensive bathrobes, Hefner style. They had planned a small gathering among Currier Islands and close friends in their own hotel, and when they told the hotel management, they were told “No, no women, no party”. So what did our friends do? They freaking went out into the night and booked another hotel suite, invited 200 people, filled the room with alcohol, and let the night evolve into whatever it evolved into. I couldn’t see what that was. I had to go back to my screen to look at the games and pick out some highlights. I did hear that Patrick Van Der Valk made an appearance, to see if things were going well for the players, and make sure everyone was enjoying themselves. What a great President BULA has.
Just before leaving, I poke my head in the rooms to see what’s going on and catch the whole Indian dance squad sitting in a bed watching a match on an iPhone. One of our covered games, got to hear Bryan Jones sweet low voice before I went back to my own hotel. Back to work. Wondering how the night turned out for these guys. I guess I will hear about it later today. Nightman out.