Being Gay in Abu Dhabi
Breaking sharia law was a lot of fun — and a little scary too
On my first evening in Abu Dhabi, we take a taxi to McGinnigans, an Irish pub where everyone — all the expats — end up on Friday nights. Just like almost everything else in the United Arab Emirates, it’s in a shopping mall — boldly marked with green illuminated lettering out front.
I drink beer, then a whisky, maybe two? I dance a bit with my friend Debbie who’s lived here for several years and her colleague Fran (also a teacher). Sometimes I just walk around, eyeing everyone hungrily. I suss out who the gay guys are; there are two Moroccans; I’ll sit down at the table where one is sitting later on and he’ll look slightly panicked as we make small talk and I realize he’s waiting for someone else. I move on after telling him to enjoy his night. There’s a beautiful Arab guy, sitting alone in front of the beer taps at the bar, nursing what looks like a gin and tonic. Debbie tells me I should strike up a conversation, gives me dirhams (I still haven’t withdrawn any cash) to buy a water so that I can stand next to him. I’m old enough, drunk enough, and brave enough to say hello, asking him if he’s from the UAE — he says yes — he turns away to stare at the rows of booze bottles ahead of him. I realize that it’s hopeless: He’s either too scared or not interested.
