Not Ready for Prime Time

Over the past six months (sometimes, it’s seemed much longer. At others, it feels like we’ve just arrived), I’ve let slide the little things that serve as a constant reminder that the UAE is still a developing country. Mostly, I give Abu Dhabi (and its glitzier cousin, Dubai) a lot of slack because…well…it’s not Saudi. And that says a lot.



For the most part, life is pretty good. Kimberly can drive, wear conservative, yet professional attire. And she can work. None of those options would have been available to her in Jeddah.



Bars are numerous (if filled with sloppy drunk expats and questionably talented cover bands), and there’s a church. Again, none of that was available in Saudi (with the exception of the sloppy drunk expats. It’s just they had to do it on Sid, rather than vodka).



So, when it took 3 weeks to get a car loan, I wasn’t all that bothered. There was the nonsense about the Burj Dubai…er…Khalifa…when it didn’t have the capability to sell tickets online or by phone (instead, forcing people to travel to Dubai first, then wait for at least three days to get the 100aed tickets to get to the top), but I didn’t really complain. And, when they shut it down less than a month after opening because, strangely, the electrical work wasn’t prepared to handle the demand, I simply shrugged my shoulders.



And, of course, thanked the God that I wasn’t either in the elevator or on the Observation Deck waiting for a ride down.



Then came UFC…



I went to my first Ultimate Fighting Championship in 2005. I wasn’t sure I’d like it, had never watch it on TV (and was somewhat scared by the no-holds-barred fighter that had been a student in a college class I TA’d), but went because my best friend wanted to go. And it was his bachelor party.



Some of the fights blur together, but, after a cursory count, I’m fairly certain I’ve now been to 8 or 9 events. They. Are. Awesome. I’ve purchased a few Pay-Per-View events, as well, but those aren’t as entertaining.



Abu Dhabi has a little money. Something about oil and gas. And a slow/steady investment policy (that allowed them to buy the naming rights to Dubai’s crowning glory). There’s also a prince here who likes Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and the UFC. He decided to buy 10% of the company and convince Dana White to hold the first ever outdoor event. April 12. In Abu Dhabi.



Never mind the Vegas like prices (my buddy went to a fight in Germany and got floor seats for what we’re paying to sit in the nose bleed of the Ferrari World Stadium). Never mind that it’s probably going to be silly hot. And never mind that one of the two big fights lost one of the fighters. I had to take Kimberly to her first one.



UAE radio stations, newspapers, weekly magazines, and every other Google-is-way-too-into-my-business-advertisement told me I could buy my tickets at 12:01 am on 14 February.



I stayed up late, and at precisely 12:01, logged into www.boxofficeme.com.



At precisely 12:35, boxofficeme.com started working. Either 1) like the Burj elevator, the site wasn’t set up to handle the kind of traffic that was generated by starting the sales at 3 pm EST on a Saturday, or 2) the guy who was supposed to flip whatever IT switch is necessary to time such things was sleeping. Or smoking shisha. Because midnight isn’t one of the 5 requisite prayer times.



I’d been throwing things, yelling at the dog, swearing, and just generally re-living a few frustrating moments I’d had in Saudi. Poor Athena. Kimberly, though, was pretty much asleep and thankfully missed most of the cursing.



But, at 12:35, I let it slide. Because the virtual velvet rope had been lifted. And I was in.



I selected seats (sort of. Apparently, in the cheap seats, it’s going to be a free for all, so we’re not even guaranteed that we’ll be able to see around the sea of white man dresses), input my credit card, and waited.



Denied.



After calling my US card company to make sure the problem wasn’t on their end, I tried again. And again. And again.



Denied, denied, denied.



I tried calling the boxofficeme telephone number numerous times, hoping beyond hope that someone had thought, “hmmmm…we’re hosting a major international event, starting ticket sales in the middle of the afternoon in one of the key markets, and it’s the FIRST TIME EVER (Emiratis are keen on being the “first” or the “largest” or the “tallest” or the “whateverest gets us the most press and/or entries into Guiness) the UFC is coming to the UAE , maybe we should make sure the call center is prepared to take a few calls.”



Nope.



At 2 am, convinced that boxofficeme.com was somehow on the same electrical circuit as the Burj elevator, I went to bed.



I tried the next morning.



Denied.



I tried calling the next morning. At 8 am. 8:30. 9. 9:03. 9:15. 10. 10:30. 11:08. I left a message on their answering machine, knowing fully well that nobody uses answering machines or voice mail over here. Nobody.



I looked at the website again. “Apart from buying tickets on this site, you can also purchase tickets from outlets at the following locations.”



I went to two of those locations in Abu Dhabi. One didn’t even exist. At the other, I met a very nice Filipina. “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have those tickets.” So much for my lunch hour.



She did, however, give me a mobile number for another Filipina who worked for boxofficeme. Said Filipina, however, like everyone else in this country, won’t answer a phone call from a number she doesn’t recognize.



After convincing Abu Dhabi based Filipina to call Dubai based Filipina to tell her to accept my call (she didn’t want to let me use her phone to make the call. Whatever), I finally got through.



Do you have your credit card with you now, sir?” she asked. “Yes.” “Would you like me to put through an order by phone?” “Yes.” “OK, sir. Let me call you back.”



I’m still waiting for that call…



I’d given up on attending the event live and was planning the UFC party I would throw. Maybe, to steal a page from my DC friends, I’d build a bon fire, put up the TV outside, and party in the snow. Sand. Whatever.



Luckily, a Canadian friend kept trying, as well. And got tickets. So, Kimberly, three of my friends here, and I are going to UFC 112.



Let’s get it on.



And, Dana - if I might propose a substitute for Vitor, how ‘bout you throw the CEO of boxofficeme in the ring against Anderson Silva. For that, I might even spring the 3695 AED for floor seats.