Dubai is the world’s busiest airport. It may also be the brightest lit, but it is not the prettiest

Over 200,000 people pass through the airport everyday. This morning most of them seem to have joined an angry mob in front of the Hertz rental counter.

Having survived our one night in a Dubai Hotel without discovering what lies behind the door in the ceiling of our bedroom, we have decided to move on. Our plan is to drive a car across the desert to Abu Dhabi. We booked a car many months ago with Hertz and were hoping it might be quite the adventure.

It now seems that just reaching the Hertz counter will be an adventure – and not a pleasant one. Tempers are flaring as a large crowd of people push forward seemingly threatening the safety of the two underpaid and over stressed employees valiantly defending the counter against all comers. It is getting out of control with people at the back angrily waving their contracts over the heads of those in front, trying to get the attention of someone, anyone, who can help. The ones in front are all shouting at the unfortunate couple behind the counter. No one is getting anywhere, let alone going anywhere

As two well brought up Englishmen we never make a fuss and always stand politely in line, and that is exactly what we do now. Thirty minutes pass and not one person has left the counter. Meanwhile there are dozens of new arrivals behind us, and it is obvious none of them are English. They try pushing ahead of us. They will not succeed. We maybe English, but we are not stupid.

We have been standing behind an attractive young woman with a baby, a child and several huge suitcases. Clearly distressed but trying to stay calm for the children, she explains that her husband has fought his way to the front of the mob and is actually standing at the counter with the details of his reservation. That’s the good news. The bad news is he has been waiting for more than three hours. There are no cars available and haven’t been all morning. They have booked a car for their two week holiday in the United Arab Emirates. She has no idea what they will do if they don’t get a car. Tears are welling up in her eyes. They have no option but to wait along with the rest of the crowd.

Fortunately, all we have to do is to get ourselves to Abu Dhabi which can’t be too hard. But we would really like to drive ourselves there.

Hertz is in the middle of a row of rental car counters. There are no lines at any of the others. I tell Gordon to guard our place in line to the death while I go and search for a car elsewhere. I get the same story at each counter – there are no cars available. Then I spot Avis and remember that I have preferred customer status with them. I have never understood what, if anything, that means, but now is definitely the time to find out.

The young man behind the counter is just old enough to drive, and not old enough to understand what is acceptable work attire. His long greasy hair is slicked back with pomade. A large shiny gold coloured chain hangs around his neck and an earring, just as shiny, nestles in an ear lobe. His black trousers are long past their clean by date. His T shirt has “Dubai” printed in large gold letters on the front, in case he forgets where he lives.

I try not to show my distaste, which is difficult, and to be charming which is entirely necessary. I give him my name and tell him I am a “preferred customer”. I place great emphasis on those two words. He doesn’t start laughing, which I take as a good sign, but he does seem to smirk which is a little worrying. He seems to give the matter some thought, which I suspect is difficult for him. Then he tells me that they are fully booked, but, as a special favour for a preferred customer he can let me have a car, as long as I don’t mind a small car and if I assure him that I will only need it for just one day.

He shows me a photo of the car. It is indeed small, looks very dated and appears to be made of tin. It is something called a Nissan Sunny. “Sunny” presumably because it is cheap and cheerful. I have a sneaking feeling that the car doesn’t belong to Avis, but to the greasy young man I am talking to. But beggars can’t be choosers.

I grit my teeth, and swallow my pride (try doing that at the same time) and tell him that will be fine.

More thinking is required. I can tell by the furrowing of his brow and the pained look. His eyes flick nervously towards me, then keeping a completely straight face, he tells me that it will be $250 for the day.

I tell him that will NOT be fine.

He explains that demand is so high he can charge whatever he wants. That is not exactly how he phrases it, but it is exactly what he means. So being labeled a “Preferred Customer” is another way of saying “there is a sucker in every bunch, and this is him”

Gordon meanwhile has been working diligently on his phone and whispers that we can get an Uber to Abu Dhabi for $140

I was wrong – beggars can be choosers

The next day I get an email from Hertz thanking me for renting a car and asking me to kindly take the time to fill out a survey telling them what I thought of their customer service.

I do just that.