Tuesday night I stayed in Dubai. I was there for the Emirates Woman of the Year Award and went to it with my friend Keeley. She is an extraordinary women. Always up to some high-powered madcap thing or other. Her list of friends (apart from me) reads like a who’s who in the UAE. She should have been up for the award of Emirates woman of the year but they’re not on to her yet.
Anyway I might have known a night with Keeley would not be normal. But little did I envisage it would end with me being driven up the Sheikh Zayed Road at 5am in a yellow Lamborghini.
I have to say there are worse ways to get home. This is a car that roars instead of purrs and goes like the clappers. Thankfully I had drunk too much pink champagne to be freaked out, but I think the journey from one end of town to the other took about three seconds.
My driver, a very nice local gentleman, had the music on.
“Could you turn it off please?” I asked him. “I want to hear the engine.”
I think he realised then he was dealing with a lunatic, which is probably why he drove so fast.
Needless to say I felt horrible yesterday. And I realise now why I am so much happier hanging out with the kids and going to bed at 9pm than sitting in bars drinking and smoking cigars (yes, I know I don’t smoke, but I forgot).
Rupes was very sweet and said it was good for me to go out and have fun once in a while. I think once every four years might be enough. Keeley tells me this sort of evening happens to her at least three times a week. She really should win an award.
I am now going to stay home for a few years but if I am ever brave enough to go out with Keeley again I hope I end up in a red Ferrari and I remember to drink water and that I don’t smoke.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2009