“Ras Al what?” My parents looked at me with what I always construed as disappointment, but the for first time I realized maybe it was just confusion. It wasn’t the first time in my 42 years that I had thrown a curve ball at them.
“Ras Al Khaimah,” I repeated slowly. Not even knowing if I was pronouncing it correctly.
“Where the hell is that?” My dad blurted with his usual amount of tact.
I was a bit hesitant on how to explain this part, because I still was not exactly sure. The job I had applied for had said Abu Dhabi and not knowing where that was two months ago, I had googled and researched it to find out. Then my contract that appeared on my computer a week ago said the actual job was in Ras Al Khaimah. I had googled that too; but there was not much to find out about the place.
“Well,” I started lamely, “it is about an hour north of Dubai.”
“And where the hell is Dubai?”
To this, my mom sweetly interjected, “Oh, you know Dubai. Where Brad Pitt vacations.”
My dad and I both looked at her. What? She already knew more about it than I did. I had to laugh, “How in the hell do you know that?” Some say I inherited my dad’s tact.
She just smiled, “Well, you know. It was on the news that he was just there.” Good ‘ol Entertainment Tonight.
My dad wasn’t much interested in Brad Pitt. “And what the hell are you going there for?”
“I applied for a teaching job a few months back and I just got the contract.”
“Jeepers cripes.” That was my dad’s equivalent that the conversation was over as far as he was concerned.