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Having nothing to do whatsoever, yesterday afternoon, I thought it might be healthier for me to take a long walk along Ajman Cornish.

Ajman is a humble city lying, peacefully, there, in the lap of the southern west coast of the Arabian-Persian Gulf.

I spent more than an hour walking, trying to burn the sugar creating a miss in my blood, when my instinct, or may be my internal GPS, led me to a campus hosting a number of night clubs and a charming looking bar kissing the lip of the gulf.

Spontaneously, I found myself within the bar to face a very polite waitress who came to welcome me and give me a "good evening sire". I gave her similar warm words and asked: do you have a Wi-Fi here? She said: sorry sire we don't. I then had to ask: would you please tell me where can I find beer and WiFi?. She then raised her hand and pointed somewhere and said: there you will find all you want. I looked there, where she pointed, and decided to go there. I didn't know for sure where specifically she was pointing but I felt my internal GPS will never let me down.

When I got there I saw a giant semi-human euro freak standing by the door. I said: good evening. But he didn't reply! May be the evening was not that good for him. So, I decided to get strait to the point: I need a WiFi because I have in my mind something to be posted in the net and if I can get some beer that would be very nice. The freak then, coldly, said to me: this bar is only open for people holding a European passport. I said: Okay, I will go back and try to get a European passport and come back in order to enter your paradise.

Fanatic species enjoy discriminating against others in their own land.

I believe such a place shall be accessible to all adults with no regard to color, race, religion etc.

I had to go back to square number 1, to that campus.

When I got there I saw some individuals leaning on the surrounding wall speaking friendly to each other. I said to me those nice people may provide a helpful answer. But before I initiate a dialogue, I heard a big noise behind me. I turned to see a big fancy pickup car stopping there, 5 feet from my own feet.

A wild loud voice came out of that pick up saying to me: hey, come boy… come!

I thought he must be lost in this city and wanted directions, but why in hell did he call me boy at this late age of mine? May be, because of my dark skin he thought I am an Indian and he gave himself the right to look down at me?

The Jack Ass doesn't know that the Indians were our Teachers. They were the ones who taught us Mathematics, Decimal numbers and gave us the basics of Algebra. That happened at the beginning of the translation era, in the days of Abu Jafar Al Monsoor. Al khawarezmi was a liar. He stole the algebra from the Indians and pretended to be the inventor. I don't like that.

I looked at him and said: I don't know so much here

But he said: No. you know

From his answer and from that moustache growing in a random fashion beneath that big nose, I made the conclusion that he came from the depth of the central peninsula desert.

I got curious enough to look at the woman sitting next to him who turned her face away from my penetrating eyes.

From her response and the veil covering three-fourth of her face, I concluded that she must be a God's fearing innocent girl.

The man, looking at me from the window of his fancy pick up, asked: what is this place?

I: I don't think this place is suitable for a family

He: but what is this place?

I: here are a collection of night clubs and an open bar

He: are they interesting?

I: I don't know. I didn't get into the night clubs because they don't open until 9 PM but I have been into the bar and, honestly, it seemed to me to be very decent

He: is there an Arab night club?

I: I think so. I think I saw an Arabic sign but I forgot the name. I tell you: my short-term memory and the goat's fart are the same

He then said: the name of the club is "the Moon's Neighbor".

The Devil! He already knew the answer yet he asked!

How did he know the name of the club? He must be spending nights and nights here with this brown complexion desert mermaid.

Jameel Buthinah, bringing his girlfriend, Buthinah, in order to spend nights with her and spin her brain here far from the tribal eyes.

Nothing wrong with that as long as Buthinah enjoys that.

But the devil threw a question: where do you stay?

So far the devil didn't respect me but I have to be patient with the devil.

I: in the Ramada Hotel

He, with a tone of voice that shows no sign of respect: you stay in Ramadah?

I said Ramada not Ramadah. He added the "h" in order to put me down!

Ramadah in Arabic means a pile of ashes! In the desert they associate "Ramadah" with those people they don't respect.

Anyway, I had to say to the devil: this is my luck tonight, I have to sleep in a ramadah. Anyway, all hotels seem to me to be the same, as they say back home: the cow's uncle is an ox.

The Devil then asked: What are you?

The devil is asking about my Identity!

I: I am from the tribe of Shiban. I am Shibani

And with that irritating tone of voice that shows no sign of respect, he exclaimed: Shibany??!!!!

I: Yeah. From Shiban, the tribe that stole the shoes of the prophet. And the fact is: after the experiences we accumulated, we, in the twenty first century, can steel anything we like

He, this time with a different tone of voice: anything you like?

Confirming my claim, I: take my word anything at all with no exception.

I said what I said while examining his fancy pick up with a hungry and a greedy eagle's eye.

My will to test made me ask: how much did you pay for this attractive pick up?

He, in a non-normal voice: why should I tell you?

I: you don't have to. I can guess

I, again: where do you stay anyway?

He: why do you want to know?

I: you asked me where I stay and I told you. Now tell me where do you stay?

He: I will never tell you

I: you don't have to. I got a GPS that will get me to any location I like

He, in a trembling voice: any location at all?

I: No. any location within the city. My GPS doesn’t go beyond the borders, unfortunately. But within this city I will get to any location I want with the help of my mighty GPS

And within a fraction of a second, he fiercely pressed the accelerator to run away faster than the speed of thought.

I bet, he is going to check out of his hotel in order to get beyond the reach of my of mighty GPS (facetious) GPS!

He would probably run to Sharja or to Dubai.

Frankly, with that brand new Pick up, I tell you, he can make it to the heart of the Arabian Peninsula before I wake up of my sleep (I sleep longer than a tiger by the way)

But during his sleep, I hope that he doesn't have a nightmare of a GPS running after him, his fake woman and fancy pick up