I spent over a year in Abu Dhabi, working alongside some of the best people I’ve ever known. We were there on a military project—long days, late nights, and a shared sense of purpose that brought us together in a place far from home. Those were good times. The kind you don’t realize you’ll miss until they’re long gone.
More than a decade later, Kipp and I were on our way from Egypt to Japan when our flight stopped through Abu Dhabi. Just the airport this time, but still—it was something. I got to share a small part of that world with him, if only for a moment. It felt like catching a glimpse of an old life, frozen in time.
Getting off the plane in Abu Dhabi was slow, deliberate. No one was in a rush, and neither were we. We wandered the terminal, scanning for food, a decent drink, and maybe—if luck was on our side—a place to catch the soccer match.
Germany had my attention this year. A few of the old favorites were winding down their careers, and I wasn’t about to miss one of their last runs.
We found a spot pouring Hoegaarden—light, crisp, a little citrusy. It went down easy. Toss in a couple of burgers, and suddenly we had ourselves a layover worth remembering.
Of course, none of it came cheap. The UAE is expensive to begin with, and airport prices? Absurd. Sixty bucks a head for two beers and a burger. But sometimes, you just pay and don’t ask questions.
Eventually, we made our way to the Emirates gate—back into the belly of one of the world’s most polished airlines. We’d played it smart and bought out the middle seat, so Kipp and I had the whole row to stretch out. He was in heaven. Big screens, warm towels, and enough comfort to almost forget we were airborne.
Half a day later, we touched down in Osaka—tired, full of anticipation, and ready to reconnect with old friends.
