Near Falaj Al Moalla
Scene 3
Then he sat in his plane and suffered from the buzz inside his ears, in which half-blown footballs seemed to be rolling around. He ate a lamb curry that was absolutely tasteless, and in a complete departure from normal, drank a tea. He fell asleep and dreamed that he was sitting in a plane headed for Dubai. Quite evidently the fever could push dreams in the direction of reality – what a frightening thought! He woke up, drank another tea, swallowed a medicinal cocktail that would have made the hardiest drug addict turn ashen, and then went back to sleep – promptly proceeding to dream of a fiery-red sun sinking behind the golden sand dunes, accompanied by a singing desert wind and by a muezzin calling the faithful to prayer somewhere in the distance.
As the muezzin suddenly announced that they were about to land in Dubai, Maille opened his bleary eyes. He felt as though he had woken up in the body of a Sumo wrestler. The aircraft landed, he felt as though he were almost totally deaf – as if all night in São Paulo he had shown a Sambaband how to dance. He disembarked in a daze, slumped over the escalator, staggered through passport control and then collapsed into a taxi which ferried him to a hotel in Sharjah, where he proceeded to quickly take occupation of his room, open a bottle of Merlot, get into a tub of hot bathwater and plunge.