He had visited more than 200 cities in 70 countries, but this was his first trip to Dubai. The plane landed at noon. Hungover and half asleep, he rode in an electric cart through the gleaming airport to the baggage claim, where a slim Pakistani man in a crisp blue suit was holding a sign that read “Brazilian.”
The limousine was waiting in a covered arcade so shady it might as well have been inside. Brazilian settled into the cool leather seat and felt his head throb as his bags thumped into the trunk.
“Please, Mr. Brazilian, I ask that you do not trouble yourself.”
As the limousine inched toward the Emir Khan through heavy traffic on Sheikh Zayed Road, Brazilian thought that it must look spectacular at sunset.
Finally, thought Brazilian, a name.
“You see, Mr. Brazilian: air, music, concierge, shade.”
