Yet not everyone can make peace with life in the United Arab Emirates, the young flight attendants say. Even the landscape — block after sterile block of hotels and office buildings with small shops and takeout restaurants on their lower floors — can contribute to a feeling of displacement. Nearly all year long, for most of the day, the sunlight is bright white, so harsh that it obliterates all contrast. Despite vigilant watering, even the palm trees on roadsides look grayish and embattled.
Mmmm... sounds like the Gulf to me! But hey, 1950s America was pretty alienating too, and these trail-blazing flight attendants highlighted in this recent nytimes story show the complex story of economic development. I tip my nonexistent hat for capturing such nuance in a profound and well-balanced story.
In other current events, I must share one story with you, my friends (too soon? I love you humorous analysis).
The most recent issue of the Atlantic features what may be the best profile I've ever read. That may not mean much, but consider the topic: mixed martial arts and UFC, aka Ultimate Fighting something... I really couldn't care less.
But I was so resolutely transfixed, so passionately fascinated, that no string of adverb-adjective pairs can express how gripping I found this article to be. Perhaps I've gone crazy; please let me know what you think, but I could not look away.
Rampage: Portrait of an Ultimate Fighter in the December Atlantic
Quinton Jackson wears a steel bicycle chain around his neck, has a tattoo of a black panther on his enormous bicep, and has a tendency to howl like a wolf. He is also born-again, the loving father of four children—and known for delivering the hardest blow in the history of professional sports. Now, in attempting to defend his Ultimate Fighting Championship title, he is also trying to hold onto his sanity. An intimate portrait of a mixed martial artist—and of the growing American fixation with the warriors who earn their living beating each other bloody.
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