Getting out of Dubai

When war comes to your door

We planned to stay in Dubai for just four nights to break up the long flight back from a family trip to India. Myself, my wife, and our one year old baby were enjoying the lazy river at Centara resort when we heard the news that Israel had attacked Iran. Immediately, your mind starts calculating distances… how far exactly is Dubai from the Iranian coast?

As we moved into the afternoon, we heard on X that drones had hit the Jumeriah hotel on the iconic man made archipelago. The sight of the hotel on fire confirmed it: the war had already come to Dubai.

No one reacted. The normality of everything felt like we’d been thrown into a computer game full of NPCs. Holiday life just carried on, and we allowed ourselves to be swept along in the wave of irrational normality. As the sun turned the dust of the desert to orange, we went to a cocktail bar for an early evening drink. If things are normal, let’s be normal. Perhaps that’s the end of it? It wasn’t.

What should have been a beautiful evening view across the Dubai skyline was broken by the sound of missiles and fighter jets flying over head. Every so often you’d hear a thud followed by a rumbling sound. Are we going mad or is this really happening? Another family with a baby quietly shared with us their anxiety and it was a welcome moment; confirmation that our growing fear was rooted in some kind of reality. X was now suggesting that Dubai airport had been hit. Could that really be true? A check on the BBC and The Guardian showed nothing, but it occured to me that no planes had flown over head for hours. We were right underneath the Dubai airport flight path, and we hadn’t seen a plane leave since morning. Nothing was leaving. Then we saw footage on X that confirmed it: Dubai airport had been hit as had the iconic Burj Al Arab.

The Burj Al Arab was hit by falling debris from a drone.

Dubai Airport on the 28th of Feburary.

The evening meal was another experience in a forced normality. A few people were scrolling their phones, we presumed to read up on the story that conflict had come to Dubai, but there was still no obvious signs that anything had changed. It was all just so weirdly normal.

After dinner, we put our daughter to bed and then threw food, water, a change of clothes and money into a grab bag. We drifted off to sleep to an increasing cadence of fighter jets and missiles flying over head. As I drifted off to sleep with my shoes and grab bag next to the bed, I remember thinking I’d caused unnecessary alarm by preparing it before we slept. It will be fine.

Then, we woke to a loud unrecognisable sound coming from our phones. It was 12:30 am. An emergency alarm was making a sound I won’t soon forget. “Whats’ going on?” my wife asked, I told her to grab our daughter, we are leaving right now. The shoes and bag next to the bed were now a welcome sight.

We went down seven flights of steps through the fire exit and appeared out in the parking area. A missile flew over head, but other than that, it was completely silent. Where was everyone? We walked out towards the lobby and saw families slowly arriving with sleeping kids propped onto their shoulders. With no official communication, the confusion and concern was now growing. Where should we even go? Is this a nuclear threat? Is it safer in the lobby or the car park? As more and more people offered confused and tired words with each other, I heard a New Zealand accent making a phone call about getting cars. It was a confident and assured tone, and I remember thinking “I need to talk to this lady”.

I introduced myself and asked where she was going, she said Al Ain which was in the middle of the desert. “You can come if you want” she said. What?!

I was amazed.

We’d known each other for 30 seconds, and she was offering to drive my family to a desert town. I didn’t really know how to process everything, and I wasn’t able to make a decision. She gave me her number and told me to call her if I changed my mind. Moments later, her group drove off into the night. Missiles and fighter jets continued to roar over head, with the pop and thud of interceptor missiles.

Footage of interceptors of the missile attack in Dubai, February 28th

We went into the lobby and couldn’t easily make sense what everyone was thinking. There were confused and scared parents covering their kids with blankets and getting them to sleep on the sofas. I weighed up the risks and decided that rest was most important. If a drone hits the building then what difference does it make if we’re in the lobby or the room? It might hit the lobby, it might hit the room, it’s a roll of the dice, so we might as well try and get our daughter some good rest. At 2am we climbed the stairs back to our room and put our daughter back to sleep. To her credit, she dropped back to sleep like it was nothing. My wife and I lay anxiously without a moment’s sleep, just waiting for the sun to break through the dark. All through the night we heard missiles, drones, fighter jets, and occasional explosions followed by a rolling vibration. The sunrise was most welcome.

We went for breakfast to check in on the state of normality. There was no mention of anything from the staff, it was all smiles and professionalism. “What’s your room number? Great! Step this way sir”. So we were sat down for breakfast like nothing had happened.

You could now feel the anxiety from the other guests, but there were no obvious outward signs. Kids were waiting to get into the lazy river whilst adults grabbed towels to place onto the sun loungers. Teenagers were eating pancakes and maple syrup for breakfast. No one wanted to discuss that that we’d all just gone through hours of missile strikes.

My body responded first.

It simply refused to eat, as if to do so would be absurd. Any food that went into my mouth was met with sandpaper dryness and a turned stomach. I opted for plain yoghurt and apple juice and checked X again. Dubai airport had been hit again. I would look up from my phone and try and reconcile that information with the sight of someone putting more eggs onto their plate. “Dude there’s no way for you to get home” I thought... “put the eggs down!” That was when I absolutely knew that we were leaving.

I messaged the lady from the night before hoping I’d saved her number correctly. To my relief and amazement, she responded immediately. I asked her “Can we come and stay with you?” and she replied immediately, “Yes, of course, I think we can get you an apartment”

My wife and I were absolutely on the same page, we would leave immediately. We went to the lobby, asked for a taxi, and they arranged one like it was nothing. The veneer of normality was now crushingly abnormal. Yet another sign that we needed to leave. Within ten minutes we were on our way to Al Ain, an hour and a half’s drive southwards into the desert from Dubai. The roads were practically empty. You must first drive into the city before you can get out of Dubai. When we finally put some distance between ourselves and the city, we started to feel a sense of relief.

As we arrived into Al Ain, we found a city that felt materially different. Like a suburban American town, with shopping malls, wide roads, and pristine garden junctions. Our contact in Al Ain was incredibly helpful. We were welcomed into the homes of three brilliant teachers living and working in Al Ain. They all got an apartment from their school, and they had offered us one of their apartments! We later learned it was practically impossible to get a hotel in Al Ain that night. It was a beautiful reminder of how kind people can be. Our contact even took us to a supermarket to get milk and food for our baby. We’d landed in an oasis of actual calm and normality. After instant noodles for tea, we all slept like logs.

I woke up at 5am to start planning where we’d go next. Al Ain was already attractive because it was very close to the Oman border, so that was plan A. I heard that that Riyad airport was operating normally, and after a few messages on WhatsApp I was almost inside in an evac plan out of Riyad after a secure overland convoy from Abu Dhabi. The cost? $200,000. Outside of being an absurd number, it was another sign that speed was going to be our best tool to escape. I started applying for visas to Oman.

The briefly hopeful morning was interrupted by the same horrifying sound from Saturday evening. Another missile strike was incoming and we should take cover. We all piled into a bathroom and finished the visa applications for Oman. Amazingly, they were all granted and sent via email within the hour. There was even a printer in our apartment, and soon enough we had three printed visas. I booked an Uber almost as a joke to raise our spirits, “We’ll get an Uber to Muscat!”, but incredibly, a fantastic driver from Pakistan turned up literally five minutes later. Because I’d tried to book to Muscat he understood our situation and explained we’d need a taxi at the border. He and my wife spoke in Hindi, and before long he was negotiating taxis for us on the other side of the Omani border.

We gave our thanks to our selfless hosts and we were on our way. It was just a half hour drive to the Oman border from Al Ain, and again, we were surprised at just how quiet the roads were. Mountains mark the start of Omani territory, and even as we arrived at the border, there was almost no one around. Our driver was surprised too, he told us he was booked from morning until night the next day and passengers had already started offering thousands to get to the border. Clearly, the pace we’d set had us just one step ahead.

Our driver found an Omani driver at the border and he negotiated the whole deal for us. Why did he go out of his way like that? “Pay him 1000 dirhams only. He will take you to Muscat. 1000 only.” We gave him our thanks, and bundled ourselves into a noticeably worse car. Our new Omani driver only knew Arabic, so communications took a hit, but we actually had a ride!

I noticed a tall white chap stranded in the car park, clearly he was in need of a ride. I introduced myself. He was German, on his way to his friends wedding when he got stranded in Abu Dhabi. How he’d gotten to the border of Oman I didn’t ask, but I told him to get in our car, and we were all on our way.

The border crossing was surprisingly uneventful. It was almost entirely empty. As the Omani border officials checked our faces against the visas, we heard the reassuring thud of three stamps into our passports and that was it, we were in Oman. We now just had a five hour drive to Muscat where we’d maybe feel there was enough distance between ourselves and one of the front lines of this emerging war.

About half way, our driver tried to explain he wanted us to switch car. At a service station, we pulled our bags out of his car, another driver turned up, we threw everything into his car and we got back on the road. It’s likely that it was here we lost our bag full of cards, ID, and cash, but we didn’t even notice until hours later.

As we arrived into Muscat, the roads into the airport were as quiet as the rest of our trip. The airport was practically empty as we dropped off our German friend. He was hoping to get on a flight to Bangkok, we wished him well and off he went. We were due to stay with a friend in Muscat just 20 minutes from the airport. When we arrived, our host was as glad to see us as we were to see her. Soon enough we were eating biryani and exchanging stories of how unsettling the last few days had been.

Exhausted, we sat on the sofa and checked flights. I’d already booked one flight to London but I was 90% sure it wouldn’t take off, so we needed another option. A flight turned up out of nowhere: Muscat to Istanbul at 12:50pm the next day but it was 10x-15x the normal rate. The discussion over lasted just five minutes. It was booked.

In the morning, we went straight to Muscat airport and started getting the necessary visas for Turkey. Even in the morning, the airport was surprisingly quiet. We spoke with some families who were all in the same situation we were in, they’d been somewhere in the UAE and decided to make a swift exit via Muscat. The staff were generally good, but they were giving us a little hassle about needing onward flights and a hotel, so I booked them right there at the check-in desk. After a few back and forths, we had our boarding cards.

After clearing security and finally walking over the gate to the plane, the mood amongst passengers lifted to an anxious optimism. The plane took off on time, with passengers regularly holding their phone to the windows to get accurate GPS coordinates. Are we out of the danger zone? The plane charted a route along the UAE border and into Saudi Arabia. It stayed north of Yemen, but south of Kuwait, Iraq and Jordan. It was tense for the first few hours, so when we finally got a sight of the Red Sea below, it was a huge relief. From there, we flew north until we reached the Nile delta, and out over the Mediterranean sea.

From there, everything was plane sailing to Istanbul. After landing, the border police waved us in no problems. We stayed in a cheap hotel and drove in the morning to Sabiha airport. We were due to fly to Manchester UK at 9:05am, but delays turned into more delays. We were told it was due to fog, but later learned it was more likely because a missile had entered Turkish airspace. We finally took off at 15:45pm and landed uneventfully in Manchester four hours later. We were home.