R.I.P DMX - A personal story

Sheikh Zayed road dissects the city of Dubai. Along it, run a scattering of luxury hotels,each boasting 2 or 3 clubs. When this city made the choice to thrive off tourism, it found a suitable loophole within its moral code to draw in the drinkers of the world. Allowing alcohol to be served ONLY in hotels. Leading to any hotel in the city adding lavish, themed bars to draw the masses.

Mahiki

Trader Vic’s

Level 43 Sky lounge

Mcgettigans

Sensation

Cirque Le Soir

Gold Bar

Chameleon Club

Secret Room

Boudoir

XL - A personal favourite

Mirage

Crystal

Cavalli Club

The city is flooded with 20’s something yearning for new experiences. Some are drawn by the tax-free work life, that matches their skillset. Others come for one reason only: to work for Emirates. I came for that reason.

I didn’t know a thing about Dubai before I went, but I knew alot about Emirates as it had been a dream to work for them since I was 17. With a minimum age of 21, I’d been filling my time back in Cork, Ireland. At 23, I was successful & made the move.

After a pretty intensive training course, batch 2365 were a nicely knitted group from all over the globe. Dressing to the nines & going out for the night became a regular occurrence with our gaggle of dreaming girls (& some guys).

At 23, I was naive, but still more cautious than others. Dubai can open you eyes very quickly.You might find yourself being followed by men, by a car full of men or take a taxi that doesn’t want to let you out because you’re exotic looking to the driver. I’ve known girls who have had to get out the window of taxis in a panic because the driver had locked them in.

These tales are meant only to share the difference in culture & the importance of exposure to said cultures to define a less conditioned, open & compassionate moral compass.

This story is about a night soon after graduating from our Emirates training. I’d heard DMX was playing at a club on Sheikh Zayed Road. Usually the gigs that come along are more electronic or pop, so for me this was a no-brainer. I was cool, so I needed to go.

2 of the Emirates girls, an Italian & a Spanish girl were also game for a night out. Barbs was bouncy, super spanish & younger than me. Steffy was calm, poised & around the same age. We got all prettied up & made our way. The nice draw to these events was we had a Emirates Crew Card that we could flash at most spots, for cheaper drinks or reduced entry costs.

We entered a sea of beautiful people that night, something that never became normal to me, but i realize in hindsight that I was one of those beautiful people too. I recall being stopped that night in the queue for entry & a stunning girl took my hands & complimented me on my looks dramatically. Confused I stood there, holding a stranger's hands thinking how beautiful she was, that, in a nutshell is human behaviour.

After arriving inside to a dark & narrow club, we made our way to the bar to get our first drinks. Using our discount we got something to suit each of our palettes & tried to find a spot to stand together.

The thing I learned fast this night was, in certain clubs in Dubai, the only way you’re sitting is if you pay for a V.I.P section. The only people doing this, usually are groups of Arab men.

Either way, as I was on my way to the bar for a 2nd drink, a smiling suited gentlemen asked me If I wanted some drinks. As he clearly worked their I said yes & he led me further from the girls by the hand. I was sure he was taking me to grab 3 glasses of bubbly because we were emirates & he could tell.

Instead, he led me to a V.I.P table full of said men, spoke in the ear of one of them & turned around & left me there.

Being polite & naive, I couldn’t just turned around to leave, so I tried to explain my situation to the closest gent to me, they beckoned me in to sit, so i did, for a drink. They were the types of fellas who wear the over-sized watches & velour slippers & get a very particular haircut every fortnight, with no exceptions.

The noise & their lack of interest in my words meant I never got to fill them in. I was eye candy/street cred whatever you want to call it. I made my excuses, though i doubt they were heard & I stood to leave, only to be held around the waist by one of the men. Awkwardly I managed to step away from the table. This was the first of the nights I learned about the nature of arab men that western women often describe as pushy.

Being so grateful to get away from the table from hell, I gave myself a few minutes on the floor. Out of the 3 of us, I was sure i liked DMX the most, If anything because his songs were in english & the girls I came with grew up speaking another language.

I got lost in the energy of the space, still narrow but teeming now with moving bodies, clamouring to be closer to DMX & Coolio, now on a platform just in front of us. Since my first gigs at a teen in the early 200’s, I have always gravitated towards ‘top-left’. Tonight was no different.

I forgot all about the creeps & got lost in the music & the crowd for some time. I assume, after my last drink wore off, I went to find the girls looking around the club. At one point I found Barbs & we laughed at our shared experiences.

She was at a table similar to where i’d been but looked happy, so after a catch up, I went on my way to the bar & back into the crowd. I Watched DMX & Coolio chug Hennessy cognac from a shared bottle, working it into their song as they drank.

It wasn’t until the gig ended that I found our other friend Steffy, she had had a good night but hadn’t seen Barbara in ages. As it was home time, I gave her a call as myself & steffy stood in the hotel lobby as everyone flocked past us on their way home or to after parties.

When the call went through I asked Barbara where she was, & in her usual delightful spanish lilt she said ‘ I’m in the hotel room of the Coolio’

I shot a look at Steffy of concern.

‘What are you doing in Coolio’s hotel room Barbara?’’ There was lots of noise in her background. She told us the room number & we half marched, half ran there. We both felt she was out of her depth in this environment & we thought it best that we remove her from a situation much less innocent than she.

When we knocked on the door, it sounded like a full blown party inside. A girl opened the door, who to this day, I swear could have been Azealia Banks, but i’ll never know, as i didn’t have the balls to ask her, afraid both if she was or wasn’t, i’d offend her.

We went inside & sure enough, there’s DMX, Coolio, Barbara & a few others I assumed were groupies. Folks close enough to catch the ride to the U.A.E with them for the gig. Here, they were still drinking Hennessy. It struck me how simple the room was. Nothing special. It was Coolio’s, & the gig was meant to be DMX only, so maybe had we been in DMX’s room, it would have been a bit more flash.

We chill for a while & probably have a drink, but at this point i’ve been drinking for the night.

I recall Coolio being much warmer toward us than DMX. Barbara was palling up to him with normality that alarmed me. She held his very bling-ish microphone necklace up to her mouth & was miming into it, as a drunken woman does. When she left it drop back to this chest she asked in all her spanish loveliness ‘’ Are you the guy that sings Ga...Gangham Style?’

My world shut down in that moment, being a lover of music & being 'cool' as I mentioned above, this was a no-going back moment of disrespect in my eyes. I hope to this day that she meant to say Gansgter’s Paradise & her english just let her down momentarily, but I’ll never know.

What’s worse, is in my panic reaction, I can’t remember how he responded.

Soon after though, i got us out of there & we went home, drunk, happy & still confused as to how we ended up in that room, with those people.

Seeing as DMX just passed away, it seemed like the right time to tell a tale of a moment I shared with him.

R.I.P Fella.