One thing you learn very quickly as an expat in Dubai, you’re not driving, you’re surviving. The roads here are not for the faint-hearted, the easily startled, or anyone who believes indicators should be used as anything other than decorative lights.
Dubai traffic is its own beast.
So, like many sensible people with a pulse and a healthy fear of four-lane merges at 140km/h, we often take taxis. In theory, taxis here are plentiful, affordable, and air-conditioned (a blessing from the gods). You can order one through an app, track it like a hawk, and arrive at your destination without sweating through your entire outfit. Most of the time, it’s a brilliant system.
Most of the time.
Then there was last month.
We were on our way home from our local mall after a cheeky Nandos. We grabbed a taxi, slumped into the back seat, and let the guy do his thingbas we headed home to Creek Harbour.
Everything was fine. Until it wasn’t.
It started with a slight swerve. Not dramatic, just enough to make me glance up. A little while later another. I’m a nervous passenger anyway. I try to not look at the road and trust that even though they are inches away from the car in front we are fine, they do this all day every day so they know what they are doing, right?
Gripping tighter I turned to my husband and said,
I’m nervous, I really don’t like this
Don’t worry, it’s fine was his response!
As we navigated the 4 lanes of Ras Al Khor Road, I was thankful to finally see our turning and home in the distance.
As we excited the taxi, I took a big calming inhale. I looked at my daughters face, who had been sat in the front seat, and could tell it wasn’t just me being overly anxious this time. I said, well, thank god that’s over!
It was at this point my husband decide to share that the driver had in fact actually nodded off at the wheel! I. Kid. You. Not.
Apparently, he’d been watching him the whole time, clocked tiny swerves, and decided it was “under control”, so didn’t think to mention it until we were back on solid ground. Thanks for that.
And suddenly, it all clicked. The slight drift in the lane. The weird breathing. That gut feeling I’d ignored because I didn’t want to seem dramatic.
The realisation took a minute. Makes sense I thought. The slight swerve, the slightly heavier breathing noises. I’ve had my fair share of dodgy taxi rides over the years but this was a new one.
Our driver had actually been falling asleep. While driving! On a busy highway! At speed!
Suddenly my heart was in my mouth, I felt a little nauseous at the thought of what could have been. Also at the fact that we had just let him drive off again and maybe next time the person in the back wouldn’t be so lucky.
And honestly? I wasn’t angry. I felt heartbroken for him.
Just days earlier, I’d read a post about how hard some workers in Dubai have it. Crammed into shared rooms, barely sleeping, then heading straight into another 12-hour shift. Is this what he was coming from? Or going to?
If I’d reported him, what then? Would he have lost his job? His income? How would he support the people depending on him back home?
It’s terrifying. And it’s complicated.
And it’s a reminder that sometimes the scariest part of the story isn’t the close call, it’s what’s behind it.
No, he shouldn’t have been driving. It was dangerous.
But he also shouldn’t have to choose between sleep and survival.
This wasn’t just a scary taxi ride.
It was a real, human reminder of what it looks like when people are stretched to breaking point — and we only see the fallout, never the cause.
So today, no neat little life lesson.
Just this: empathy isn’t always convenient.
But it matters.
And if you’re lucky enough to be well-rested, safe, and secure today, take a second to acknowledge it. Because not everyone gets that luxury.
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