Jun was a petite 17 year old Japanese girl, sitting adjacent to me on a flight to Dubai. As the plane took off, I curled up in my blanket while she sat cross-legged 
on her flat-bed deeply engrossed in what seemed like a holiday brochure or magazine. From our brief, and very formal, conversation it seemed she was off on a skiing holiday to Geneva.
As the plane started its descent, I was woken up by one of the flight crew. “Are you ok?” asked the flight attendant. I took a minute to explain a neuro-degenerative brain disorder I suffer from, which causes short-term memory loss and high anxiety. I asked for some water to take my medication and buckled myself for the landing. “Man, you snore!” announced Jun! I, again, explained my medical situation to which she was most understanding.
The plane touched down and the passengers disembarked. I started walking down Dubai’s Terminal 3, towards the immigration counter when I lost my balance, felt dizzy and hit the wall. At this point my vision was also getting a slightly blurry, so I decided to sit for a while before walking out of immigration. I sat on the bare tiled/marbled floor which felt ice-cold, wrapped a scarf around myself and closed my eyes.
“Bilal! Bilal!” echoed through my head and I thought “oh great, another anxiety attack”. I opened my eyes only to discover Jun standing in front of me. She had walked back from her transit counter, after having seen me sitting against the wall. Jun, this carefree teenage girl whom I hardly knew and had never met before, sat down on the bare floor next to me and started asking what was wrong. I explained my head was spinning, which often happens after I take my meds and that I’d be ok. “I have a friend in Dubai, who can take you to the hospital if you need” Jun said to which I explained I had a friend waiting outside to drive me to my hotel. We both sat quietly for a while, after which Jun asked “why aren’t you wearing a watch?” “Oh, I just don’t like them” I explained. Jun took off her watch and put it on my left wri
st, explaining that with such a condition I need to be wearing a watch so I can pace myself. “You really don’t have to” I insisted. “Ok, well, I’ll just sit here .. miss my flight .. and it’ll be your fault”. I accepted the watch, thanked Jun and we exchanged phone numbers. We heard Jun’s flight being announced over the intercom and I insisted she get going so as to not miss her flight. It really felt like Jun didn’t want to leave. While I was incredibly touched by Jun’s concern and generosity, I just wasn’t in the frame of mind to be able to thank her enough. I saw Jun walk towards the transit counter, often turning and looking back at me and waving in the most sweetest adolescent way. That was the last I saw of Jun.
Shortly after I got up and made my way to the immigration counter. I did not have a friend waiting outside, as I had told Jun. The hotel had sent a car to pick me up. On my way to the hotel, a long 45 minute drive thanks to the morning Dubai rush-hour, I kept thinking about Jun. While I was still somewhat disillusioned from the anxiety attack and didn’t really quite understand what had happened, I was completely awe-struck at the concern Jun had shown.
“Welcome back to the Grosvenor House, Mr. Ahmed!”, said the hotel’s bell-boy as he escorted me to the hotel’s reception. I checked into my room, sat down, had something to drink and saw the watch Jun had given me. It looked like a simple watch, with a nice clean dial and a black leather strap. I put the watch on the night-stand and decided I’d take a nap. I woke up six hours later and thought I’d call and ask Jun if she had reached safely, and more importantly, thank her for the concern she had shown. There was no answer. “Ok, I must be imagining this”, I said to myself. I ran over to the night-stand where I had placed Jun’s watch and realized the watch was very much there and not just my imagination.
I was eventually able to get in touch with Jun and we remain close friends.
