Russell In Dubai!

Yes, we lucky people of Dubai always seem to get luckier. Russell Peters, arguably the best comedian in the world today, did four friggin’ shows the melting pot of the Middle East, each having been sold out more quickly than the other. He came, he conquered and he made us laugh our asses off!

Okay, enough of the formal crap.

Initially, we [especially Romit] were heart broken to hear that the great Russell would be performing just before our Physics exam. Bloody hell, I couldn’t have hated ISC more. But then relief came and relief is always good. 18^th of March was the perfect day to add 2 more shows Mr Peters, thank you! Tickets for his earlier shows had been sold out in 40 minutes, and the shows on the 18^th got sold out in about 8 minutes. Romit and I bought 8 tickets. Brilliant.

The 18th day of March came faster than I thought it would. We were surprisingly occupied with tons of Redial Entertainment work, and umm some other “fun”. It was a long time since the five of us had been together and boy it felt good. But all that aside, Romit and I geared up for the gig. We had bought Bharath a ticket as a birthday gift, which he initially greeted with scorn to my surprise, but came around later. Bharath, sometimes you are just too nice, but I still love you.

We [Romit, Bharath & I] made our way to Crowne Plaza hotel at about 6:30, three and a half hours earlier than the beginning of the act, hoping to get the first row, and having our asses picked on. All of that did happen, and boy we enjoyed it.

In all popular concerts, programs and shows held in Dubai, there is one common thread – the annoying pre-entrance debacle. Today was pretty much the same. There was no line system initially and everyone seemed to be everywhere outside the entrance gates. So well we thought we might as well start a line. There we stood, all proud and tall, first in line to hit the seats. But then, suddenly, a couple of Arab people came in front of us and started chatting up their fellow over-weight Arab bodyguard. When you suck up, the result is always good, so there was no budging those suckers from the front of the line. Fine. Dealt with. Then this innocent Indian boy emerged, asking our fat fellow Arab bodyguard, which of the two lines was the VIP line. The fat racist Arab fellow put on this shit-ass fake Indian accent and told him that “this was the Vee-Aai-Pee Liyun, and this was the Narmal liyun”, pointing at the two different lines as if he was addressing someone slow. His fellow Arab suckers enjoyed a snigger, and the fat racist Arab basked in the glory. Now what the hell is that? Friggin’ racists. I gave that fat bodyguard a mean look, but then, that was most I had the balls to do.

We then entered the hall to form another non-organised line. The first few people [which obviously included us] were in line, but the remaining people were like a kindergarten class gone wild. Some weeping aunty-ji came like a little toddler to complain to the second big ball-less teacher-like bodyguard saying that ‘no one was standing in line’ and that ‘everyone was “butting” in’. Some “chicks” joined aunty-ji and it was a beautiful ensemble of chicks, aunty-hens and big ball-less bodyguards. The second body guard gave into their plea and said that there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He therefore allowed them to butt into the line too – another bastard that one. The hypocritical chicks suddenly had tears of joys in their eyes. Brests always win with us men, don’t they?

Yup, I have sidetracked a little, but the humanity of Dubai is always worth a mention. Anyway, as soon as the doors opened, we rushed in like hounds, elbowing any obstruction in the way to get to the best possible seats. And by doing all that, we obviously did get the best seats. My parents were going to come in later, as they were evidently busy at work, so we saved them seats hoping that no Arab would pick a fight with us to get them. We were saved from this, but the Indian Sindhi sitting next to us fought her ass off against this aggressive Arab kid to protect seats for her loved ones. Congratufuckinlations to her.

We waited for an hour, at ease, sitting in the first row, enjoying the superior seats to those behind us. At 10:10 PM, the super-huge Greek “Angelo”, Russel’s opening act, came onto the stage. He ridiculed his own obesity to make us laugh and was quite successful in that too. He was the perfect appetizer for Russell, and activated our stomachs for the main course.

Enter Russell Peters. He was obviously met with loud cheers from the over-enthusiastic crowd. Yes, I must admit, being a big fan, it was great to see him. Romit thought Russell had “teleportated” some of his weight. Russel began and penetrated our stomachs brilliantly, and was on song through out. Well I would say he was more than on song, he was on friggin’ fire. He didn’t repeat any of his earlier jokes, and cleverly inculcated the Dubai aspect in this new plethora of jokes. From the Lebanese “Habibis” to “Mr North Carolina”, from the “Egyptianpino” to his other impromptu crowd interaction, and from his usual spin on hairy Indians to his brilliantly witty jokes, Russell entertained our asses off. His impersonation of George Bush was spot on and his take on the Football World Cup 2006 was awesomely hilarious too. What makes him brilliant is that he has this wonderful ability of striking the right note and making a universal connection with his Asian dominated crowd. And besides just being plain funny, Russell’s jokes have bitter honesty in them. As he said on his CBC interview, it’s easier for a coloured comedian to spurt the honesty in an act than some bimbo President in some Congressional speech.

I had a fair share of his crowd-interaction. Being an Indian, Russell screwed me over my apparent hair-yness. He spotted my monobrow and told me to shave it off because it would give me two eyebrows, and for us Indians, the more of anything the merrier, right? He didn’t leave me there. Later on, when he spoke about Indian men and their hairy dicks, he picked me out yet again and told me to shave that jungle off too. Cool. Yes I was a working definition of the Indian man for Russell. As Romit later said, I got what I want. Russel then went off and came on for an encore. He then threw upon us my favourite joke of the evening on “Bollywood Pornography”. Romit and I almost fell out of our chairs, and I have never heard my Dad laugh so loudly. It was a perfect end to brilliant show of a brilliantly talented comedian.

The fairy-tale-like experience didn’t end there. We then got to meet Russell & Angelo in a conference room where we took photos with him and got his autographs. He remembered my mono-brow and I did have one-tenth of a conversation with him, but he gave most of his attention to the hot girls that were there. I don’t blame Russel for this. He was being a true man. I like this honest entertainer.

P.S. Besides all the fun, Arsenal lost
today, and I lost my house keys.