Four hours to Sharjah: Gulf News reporter recounts her ordeal

Dubai: Getting back home from work on Sunday evening can only be described as a journey to hell that lasted four hours.

I left work at 4pm and was breezing along the Shaikh Zayed road until I got on to the Al Garhoud bridge, when I hit a massive traffic tailback - an unusual sight at that time of the day.

At first I thought there must have been a traffic accident down the road, but it took me a little over an hour to reach underpass that takes me on to the Al Ittihad road.

I rolled down the window of my car and enquired with a fellow motorist in a 4x4, who wore a disgruntled look and was puffing on a cigarette, the cause for such horrendous traffic congestion.

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"This is because of the rains. I heard it on the radio that some of the roads are closed because of the rains. Don’t worry, we all will reach home before midnight," he replied.

I gave him a weary simile and heard myself saying loud: "This is definitely not happening to me god!" I rolled down my car window and blasted out music from my CD player in an attempt to cheer myself up, but it did not do any good. On the contrary I found myself getting more upset and irritated by the state of affairs on the roads.

I looked at my watch. It showed 5:45pm and I had just managed to reach the Dubai Flower Center. I kept asking myself, "What shall I do, What shall I do?" I looked around to see whether I can take an exit and escape but all that I could were cars, buses carrying workers and trucks.

That’s when the idle mind really started racing. Car radio on, car radio off, car radio on, car radio off.

Maybe I could find an apple or an orange (leftovers from lunch) in my bag to keep me occupied. Nope. I decided to call my sister who lives in Dubai only to be told that she is busy attending to her daughter’s work.
“Can I call you back," she enquired. “No, no, no, no, no” I thought.

By now I was at the begging stage: "Please, Please don’t keep the phone,” I said, “It has been nearly two hours now that I am stuck in traffic and I am still a long way from home."

Promising to call back in 20 minutes she hung up. Back to myself I then decided to click some traffic pictures on my Blackberry, which took my mind off from the situation for a few minutes. Happy that I had made some good use of my time on the road I phoned one of the editors on duty, to inform that she should expect some traffic congestion pictures soon.

All the five pictures that I attempted to email failed and naturally, my anger reached the next level. I decided to try the etisalat helpline number 101. Here too I failed to get a response. All I got was a pre-recorded message that repeatedly kept saying: "Dear valued customer, please wait, your call is important to us," Yeah Right!

The time was 6:15pm and I was still on Ittihad road, but I had yet to reach the Galadari car showroom. The traffic movement was worse than a snail's pace (I’m sure I saw a couple going past and laughing at me). At this point some motorists decided get out of their cars for a stretch and a cigarette.

"Not bad," I thought. There were also a few men who were seen standing next to another alongside the concrete road divider urinating in full view of the other motorists. But nobody seemed to mind and just turned their heads the other way.

A couple of workers who were seated in the backseat of a pick up van in front of me decided to pass their time by winking at me. Ignoring them did not work, and I was furious at this point. So I decided to give them a piece of my mind. I switched off my car engine, marched up and knocked at the window of the pick up van. The driver was apologetic and promised me that he would see to it that the men in his pick up van would behave.

Threatening to call the police if I saw them repeat their actions I got back in my car. My venting must have been cathartic, I was feeling much better. A few minutes later my sister called up and kept me company until I reached home. Our conversation touched on home affairs, global warming, what we had for lunch, Gordon Brown and his anger (which was comparable to mine that evening), Obama and his smoking addiction, shopping and what did I plan for dinner. Surprisingly our conversation did not include traffic at all.

As I reached Al Taawun mall – close to where I live - my sister hung up. The time was 8pm. It was a journey that I will not be able to forget that easily. Four long hours I had spent on the road.

Just imagine, if I’d been at the airport, I could have made it home to Kerala in less time.