Money sings & "Are you Muslim?"

I did bring my swedish laptop with all the lovely letters that make our language sound the way it does however, am having problem charging the battery so I decided it was either write nothing or write, but in english.

So let me update you. Back to the airport in Qatar where I left you last. It was approaching 1 am and I started walking to the gate. Suddenly a female employee at another gate rushed towards me almost as if she was saying ''you can't be going to those other gates down there''. Well what she did infact say was: ''Ma'm are you going to Melbourne?""

It was apparently final call for that flight. "No," I politely said and kept walking til I came to gate 13 and 14 and about a gazillion bengali male guestworkers.

Understandably they stared me down thinking "what on earth is this white hijabi doing here." Anyhoo, they called us to the gate and all of a sudden the gazillion men flew out of their seats and almost tackled one of the employees trying to access the boarding desk.

Did I miss something? Are we not all passengers with booked seats that wont go anywhere? Then I remembered... Fazeela, where is your Pakistani blood?

Finally after many slaps and shouting between the staff and the passengers, a 1000 mile long queue was formed. I, being the cool and calm swede that I am (fought my Pakistani urge to elbow my way to the front), did not rush and thus had to stand at the very last end. In Asia you either get with the program fast or you tape it and watch it later...alone. 

What I had not understood was that some of the few Bengali women (10 in total, I counted) that were there just walked past the line and started boarding. How rude! They were of course wealthy and in the Indian subcontinent, money doesn't talk, it sings.

Back on the plane out of the 1 billion seats available on this jumbo jet or boeing something (it was huge) I had a two seater next to what looked like a very (at least externally) conservative man (long dress and beard and the red and white head dress some men in the gulf wear).

Now, all I felt was, I am not sleeping (it was a night flight) on this plane next to all this testosterone. I was surrounded by men, left right center and needed at least one dose of estrogen. So I start to look for women. And believe me that was like looking for snow in the desert. Ice anyone?? 

First I tried with English, but that of course didn't work. So I became desperate. "Hindi?". Yeah that worked. He was happy to switch seats.

When I found one woman who was next to a man in a two seater, she was willing to swap with me, but the bengali man (seemed wealthy) asked me first: "Where do you want me to sit?" And when I pointed to the externally conservative man, he nearly choked and just shook his head in a very "indian" way and said "no no no no no." Very odd.

But the highlight of the trip, besides the poor flight hostesses who were acting like mothers to all these men: "Please Sir, put on your belt" or "No I told you no mobile when flying","Sir give me the phone now" and finally when English didn't work anymore she resorts to Hindi "Sir apna seat sida karo!!" (Sir straighten your seat), and after not listening either times, she forcefully pushes his seat up and walks away in great frustration. Back to the highlight: The businesswoman (may I add, Bengali and Muslim herself) that I finally ended up next to asks me: "Are you Muslim?"

Maybe she thought Mother Theresa reincarnated.