DUBAI — What began as a dream vacation quickly became a sand-scorched reality check for Glen Picklebury, 29, who arrived in Dubai expecting luxury and left with two maxed-out credit cards, heatstroke, and a deeper understanding of late-stage capitalism. “It’s like Disneyland for billionaires,” he whispered, sipping a $14 bottle of hotel water with shame.
Picklebury’s first warning came upon entering his hotel, which featured gold-plated everything and a concierge who referred to him as “peasant-adjacent.” The elevator required a retina scan and a brief financial confession. “I just wanted to see a fountain show,” he explained. Instead, he watched a Rolls Royce valet itself next to a marble falcon.
Eager to explore, he wandered outside, immediately learning that walking is frowned upon. “Sidewalks are more of a decorative suggestion,” he noted. Taxis refused him unless he wore couture or had at least one minor oil share. He eventually found a mall so large it had its own climate and moon phase. He wept in the food court.
Later, Picklebury took a desert tour operated by a man named Khalid who only played EDM remixes of goat noises. He was given a falcon to hold and a sense of ecological dread. “They said the sand was imported,” he said, gazing at an artificially irrigated cactus. It glowed faintly. He did not ask why.
His final evening was spent on a rooftop bar that charged extra for “emotional ambience.” The view included 400 construction cranes and a billboard of Elon Musk wrestling a tiger. When he asked for tap water, the waiter laughed. He boarded his flight barefoot, luggage stolen by a robot taxi that ran on diamonds and regret. Dubai waved goodbye with fireworks. Glen did not look back.
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