Quantum of Solace

This weekend Miss Lecia and I walked over to our lovely nearby mall, Sahara Center, to enjoy the recently released, slightly edited-for-Muslim-audiences version of Quantum of Solace.

Before the film, I was standing in line for concessions listening to an 9 year old British girl give orders to the cashier. There was something in her tone of voice that spoke of a life privilege and pampering, of riding lessons and servants waiting at attention to clean up spilled chocolate milk and comb tangled hair. I try not to be a class-warrior, especially given my embarrassingly high standard of living compared to the worldwide middle-class, but something about snotty rich children always bothers me.

I was in the process of paying for my nachos and Diet Pepsi when she returned, peaked over the counter, shoved her large popcorn forward, and interrupted the Pilipino man counting out my change. “This is NOT fresh.” The man could not think of an English phrase that would convey his feelings and allow him to keep his job and so simply stared blankly. I began laughing as he looked from the girl to me. The Young Princess turned her attention my direction, wondering what was so funny about the injustice of her popcorn problem.

“You are ridiculous!” I offered by way of explanation for my chuckling.
“I am not!” She replied, and looked back to the popcorn vendor to see if confirmation would come from his direction. No help would be forthcoming. The Popcorn Vendor just chuckled along with me until The Princess huffed off with her popcorn calling for “daddy”.

I don’t know if the intense, barely restrained class conflict exemplified by this exchange will ever come to a head, but I am starting to see a few “Che” bumper stickers around town, even though the cars on which they are plastered are more expensive than one would expect for revolutionaries, so you never know… Sadly, if the revolution does come to Dubai I’ll probably be among the first against the wall, along with the rest of the Western Fat Cats, but still, snotty rich kids always make me wish the Dubai Liberation Front would hurry it up a little.