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Wheels, Whiskey, and Wisdom: A Bloke’s Bumbling Odyssey from Heathrow to Dubai (Via a Saudi Layover and One Less Suitcase Wheel)

By a Man Who’s Learning That Travel is 10% Planning, 90% Improvising

Day 1 – 21 Oct 2025: The One Where My Suitcase Goes on a Diet

Picture this: 11:45 a.m., my mate Banky rings from Heathrow Terminal 4 sounding smugger than a cat with cream. “Mate, I’m already here.”

Meanwhile, I’m still in Coulsdon South, wrestling a suitcase that’s clearly plotting mutiny.

Public-transport heroics ensue:

Coulsdon South → Farringdon → Queen Elizabeth Line → Heathrow T4.

En route, I become an impromptu German-tourist whisperer. Bloke jumps on heading to T5, panics, contemplates changing trains. I channel my inner TfL oracle: “Stay put, switch at Terminals 1-2-3.” The lady beside me nods like I’ve just solved world hunger. (She alights at Paddington—Heathrow Express territory. Fancy.)

Moral victory: I almost complimented her gold-studded shoes. Almost. British reserve: 1, Compliments: 0.

Reunite with Banky. Queue. Banter. Opt for emergency-exit seats (B & C)—legroom galore, zero “excuse me, toilet dash” awkwardness.

Downside: suitcase loses a wheel mid-terminal. Now rolling on three like a drunk shopping trolley.

Duty-Free Dilemma

Contemplate booze. Remember stopover in Saudi Arabia. Recall Saudi Arabia’s zero-tolerance booze policy.

Compromise: splash £100 on Oban single malt. Smuggle it like a whisky Bond. Success—it makes it to the hotel.

Evening:

  • Crack open Oban.
  • Chinwag with Banky about AI in UK law (verdict: it’s coming, whether barristers like it or not).
  • Debate universal hotel check-in times (spoiler: they don’t exist).
  • Meet Titi (Banky’s “friend”—lovely lass).
  • WhatsApp Nicole (Rotimi’s daughter).
  • Stockpile lobby snacks: cashews, instant noodles, olives. Survival mode activated.

Things I Now Need to Google (or Learn Via Osmosis):

  • Saudi coffee ritual (apparently involves cardamom and tiny cups).
  • Special pens for Arabic calligraphy?
  • UAE car plates—why so many numbers?!
  • Abu Dhabi transport hierarchy: taxi > metro > magic carpet?

Daily Template to Avoid Becoming a Hotel Hermit:

  1. Scrounge breakfast.
  2. Invade town for lunch.
  3. Hotel dinner at civilised hour (read: before midnight).

Shopping Hit-List: cutlery, coffee filters, new suitcase, hibiscus tea, Saudi coffee beans.


Day 2 – Thursday: Honey Tours & Oud Overload

7 a.m.: Gym. Broth for breakfast (living like a monk who lifts).

Mall Raid #1: Ghanaian lady gives me the full Honey Sommelier experience. Exit with black honey (tastes like treacle’s moody cousin) and white honey (cloud fluff in a jar).

Meet David O (Vido)—lock in Friday plans.

Mall Raid #2: Sheikh Something-or-Other Mall/Shoping Centre/Souk/Whatever

  • New suitcase (four wheels—luxury)
  • Oud oils (smell like a wealthy forest)
  • Oud Vaseline (yes, that’s a thing)
  • Emporio Armani Mechanico watch (black & white—because subtlety)

Evening: Book desert tour. No confirmation. Cancel. Anxiety levels: moderate.

Nightcap: Oban. Deep chat with Banky—how he markets himself, where he fits in my industry. Bed at 1 a.m. Alarm at 6:50 a.m. Send help.


Day 3 – Friday: Club ATLON & Accidental Wingman Duties

Gym. Wake Banky at 9. Share miso soup like civilised cavemen.

Plan: Keep day free for evening with David.

Reality: Lounge by hotel canal reading The Trial by Kafka. (Irony: I’m on holiday, reading about bureaucracy.)

9:30 p.m.: David scoops us. Destination: ATLON nightclub (Nicole’s recommendation via Rotimi—legend).

Meet the crew:

  • Bayo (built like a fridge, vibes like Toks)
  • Tunji (birthday boy—decided we’re his party)

Table booked. Bottles ordered.

Club quirk: Every bottle arrives with sparkler parade. Stealth drinking? Impossible. You’re basically announcing, “TABLE 7 IS GETTING MORTAL.”

Drinks: brandy/whiskey. Finger food: yes.

DJ: slaps.

Dance floor: inevitable. I succumb. Shake what my mama gave me.

Random ladies grind (boyfriends too posh/tired to dance). I oblige. No baggage. Home by 2-3 a.m. Ears ringing, soul satisfied.


Day 4 – Saturday: Grand Mosque, Faulty Watch, Security Oops

Mission: Grand Mosque tour + content talk.

Plot twist: Banky’s new watch dies. Return to mall.

Midday prayers echo as we leave. Miss 2 p.m. tour. Next: 5 p.m.

Plan B:

  1. Cab to mall.
  2. Swap watch.
  3. Cab back.
  4. Register for tour.

Security blooper: Leave phone + sunglasses in X-ray tray. Backtrack to Lost & Found. Staff = discreet legends.

Tour verdict: Mind-blowing. Marble that cools your feet, chandeliers heavier than cars, history + tech flex. 10/10, do it.

Post-tour: Grab bags. 250 AED cab to Dubai. Check into the Premier Inn Barsha Heights.

WhatsApp ping: Uyi posting pics with Chinedu (60th birthday bash in Dubai). Strategic DMs. Breakfast meetup locked for Sunday.


Day 5 – Sunday: The Breakfast Reunion

7 a.m.: Uyi rocks up. We zoom off to find Chinedu, coffee and probably more honey.

(To be continued—my liver needs a minute.)


Mid-Trip Reflections from a Three-Wheeled Philosopher

  1. Friendship Level-Up: Banky and I are now debating AI law at 1 a.m. If we survive two weeks without a duel, we’re golden.
  2. Oud is Life: I now smell like a sultan’s armpit (in the best way).
  3. Dance Floor Diplomacy: Universal language. Boyfriends, you’re welcome.
  4. Lost & Found Heroes: Shoutout to mosque security—zero judgement, maximum efficiency.
  5. Next Goals: Master Saudi coffee pour. Buy calligraphy pen. Figure out why every Emirati plate looks like a phone number.

Pro Tip: Never buy duty-free booze with a Saudi layover unless you fancy a £100 paperweight.

Stay tuned—next episode: desert sunsets, more oud, and whether my new suitcase survives Dubai traffic.

Now, who’s got hibiscus tea recommendations?

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