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I landed in Dubai on a hot, steamy morning and made my way through the shiny lobby to a shiny car which took me to my shiny hotel. My little capsule of cool air proceeded to glide noilessly on the wide road, among other white capsules sailing the river of traffic between silver giants.
I pressed my nose against the glass and looked at the occupants of the other white capsules. Some contained energetic Indians, some bored-looking Russians and some impeccably white-clad locals glued to super phones.

I stayed in one of Dubai’s towering hotels. 
All have alluring balconies lining up against the milky sky. Magnificant balconies, thousands of them all through the silver city. All sealed off. After an hour of pressing my face to the glass in silent desperation, I asked Reception. ‘Government regulation, ma’am’ chirped the pleasant young woman from the Philippines. 

In the evening I rode the metro with the thousands of people who work hard in the city of glass and are barely able to keep their eyes open at the end of a hard, long day. Heads lolling against the glass.

I went to a mall with a huge tank inside. Where some people were diving and others were watching them on the other side.

Pressing their faces against the glass.

Come to Dubai, it’ll be class, oh my my, you can touch the glass!