noname_jup
FIRST STRIKE
Dubai City, Dubai
United Arab Emirates
July 14, 2009
Javier Corbray walked into the ICON Bar in the Radisson Blu Hotel, his gaze traveling over the dim interior, taking it all in at once—the upscale décor, the busy wait staff, the near-to-capacity crowd of expats enjoying Happy Hour. It wasn’t his scene. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing in Dubai. He’d be back in the States now if he hadn’t let JG talk him into playing tourist.
“You’ve got to see Dubai City,” JG had said. “The buildings, the expat nightlife, the luxury cars—that place will blow your mind. Did I mention the indoor ski resort?”
Only about five times.
The city was amazing. Burj Al Arab. The Jumeirah Emirates Towers hotel. Al Kazim Towers. The artificial island of Palm Jumeirah with its long central avenue. Burj Khalifa, soon to be the world’s tallest building.
The city dripped with wealth—oil dollars and foreign investment. But Javier would rather be putting together a barbecue with his dad in his folks’ backyard in the South Bronx or home in San Diego than wandering around Dubai City in the 105-degree heat staring at architecture. And when it came to the beaches, nothing here couldpare to the beaches of Puerto Rico.
Still, being a tourist for a few days wasn’t a bad idea. He could use a little dpression time. It had been a long and rough deployment, one that had seen him and the other men of Delta Platoon caught between the mandate to win hearts and minds and their primary mission as SEALs—to kick ass and take names.
At least they hadn’t lost anyone this time around.
A young man approached him, menu in hand. “Just one tonight?”
Javier nodded.
“This way, please.”...
FIRST STRIKE
Dubai City, Dubai
United Arab Emirates
July 14, 2009
Javier Corbray walked into the ICON Bar in the Radisson Blu Hotel, his gaze traveling over the dim interior, taking it all in at once—the upscale décor, the busy wait staff, the near-to-capacity crowd of expats enjoying Happy Hour. It wasn’t his scene. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing in Dubai. He’d be back in the States now if he hadn’t let JG talk him into playing tourist.
“You’ve got to see Dubai City,” JG had said. “The buildings, the expat nightlife, the luxury cars—that place will blow your mind. Did I mention the indoor ski resort?”
Only about five times.
The city was amazing. Burj Al Arab. The Jumeirah Emirates Towers hotel. Al Kazim Towers. The artificial island of Palm Jumeirah with its long central avenue. Burj Khalifa, soon to be the world’s tallest building.
The city dripped with wealth—oil dollars and foreign investment. But Javier would rather be putting together a barbecue with his dad in his folks’ backyard in the South Bronx or home in San Diego than wandering around Dubai City in the 105-degree heat staring at architecture. And when it came to the beaches, nothing here couldpare to the beaches of Puerto Rico.
Still, being a tourist for a few days wasn’t a bad idea. He could use a little dpression time. It had been a long and rough deployment, one that had seen him and the other men of Delta Platoon caught between the mandate to win hearts and minds and their primary mission as SEALs—to kick ass and take names.
At least they hadn’t lost anyone this time around.
A young man approached him, menu in hand. “Just one tonight?”
Javier nodded.
“This way, please.”...