I Swear, This Is Not PD!

Let’s face it, our working life is pretty thankless. We toil for 12 hours a day, largely for the benefit of the richest 1 percent of population, and then we come home to craps like 'Kimora’s Life On The Fab Lane' and 'Paris Hilton’s New BFF'. We are an inch closer of throwing out of the window our TV set everyday, but we quickly remember that 'E!’s Top 10 Fabulous Holiday Destinations' is next. So the TV throwing can wait another day.

Obviously I needed a break. I needed fresh air, sunshine and a chance to get away from it all (and that means parading around in my tentlike shorts, putting my belly on proud display at a beach). And what a better way to accomplish all that than to take an old-fashioned, four-days-three-nights vacation in a certain remote-but-exclusive part of the country?

This vacation costs a fortune that I truly believe only emirs can handle them comfortably. It was so expensive I felt a certain pressure to run around like a madman, trying to have fun every second of the day. Since there isn’t a hell of a lot to do at the beach (the whole idea of the beach is there’s nothing to do there) a conflict may arise , causing dizziness and vomiting.

And as the world struggles against the tsunami tide of credit crunch; for 'aristocrat' like Din, credit crunch is not in his vocabulary. “Credit crunch? What’s that? Is it a new brand of slimming breakfast cereal?”, exclaimed my partner in crime.

If you have to ask the price, you can’t afford it.

Ask anyone, your friends or family – to tell you what they want out of holiday and they will invariably tell you the same thing; ‘I want to spend quality time with the people I care; I want laughter, good food and fun’. It’s as simple as that. We all share the same vision. So if we want the same thing, why does holiday so often highlight our differences and divide us rather than bring us closer together?

Essentially, the answer is simple; because we’re different. Yes we all are. That’s why I’ve long accepted the fact and tried not to worry too much about those little things. Why get an ulcer over things that don’t matter?



Once I was at the beach, with the water lapping up against my shorts, I saw clearly that all man’s worrying is ridiculous since we are all just particles. A speck of tiny sand. Now, what’s the point of having to be flown back from an expensive vacation, a whipped and dejected man, as a result of worrying about all the money I have spent and those people I had short-tipped?

Man, I have another waay important thing to worry about. It’s called credit crunch.