After four and a half hours of contorting myself into impossible positions to rest my aching neck, I was more than relieved when we finally touched down at Dubai International Airport at 11 PM local time. Loaded up on medication for a bad stomach, I was desperate for a hot shower and a warm bed.

If you’ve been to Dubai International Airport, you know how it feels like a maze designed to test your endurance. Endless walking, waiting and more walking await before you even get to the immigration counters. While I was eager to meet my family waiting for me outside, my mood was foul—I was cranky, starving and extremely tired.

I approached the immigration counter, handing over my passport with what I hoped was a pleasant expression. The officer, rather handsome I must admit scanned my passport. Then scanned it again. And again. My heart sank as he furrowed his brow, his thick Arab accent breaking the silence to ask, "Do you know this person?" He mentioned a name I did recognise but was obviously flying without.

“Yes" I replied, confused and the questions began. "Where is he?" "Who are you traveling with?" I explained I was traveling alone to meet my family and had all the necessary documents to prove it. Due to obvious communication barriers my explanations were met with a blank stare and instructions to proceed to the ominously named "immigration office."

The "office" turned out to be another counter with fewer officers and a line that moved at a glacial pace. After much back-and-forth between the officer, my family outside, and my family back home, the problem became clear: my visa didn’t allow me to enter the country alone. I was under a "family category" visa, despite explicitly telling our travel agent that although my parents and I were were submitting our visa documents together we’d be arriving on different dates and I would be flying alone.

What followed was a comedy of errors, stretched painfully thin over hours. Immigration officers seemed to disappear for coffee breaks at the most inopportune moments. It was now close to 1 AM and my phone buzzed incessantly as I relayed the same information to everyone involved. The final verdict? Either my family, who shared the same visa had to fly into the country to release me, or I’d be deported.

Images of Banged Up Abroad played vividly in my mind as I, along with others caught in similar visa discrepancies, were escorted by Dubai Police and immigration officers to the departures terminal. There, we were herded into a room called "Immigration investigations unit". The room was a freezer. I sat alone, cold, hungry and with a family worried but powerless to help. I didn’t have my passport, had no concrete answers and no idea how long I’d be there. Sleep was out of the question, as each creak of the door had me jumping up hoping for news.

At 3 AM, a Sri Lankan officer approached me. He asked for my visa, his tone more empathetic than I expected. He walked me into yet another office where he carefully explained the issue and my options. The visa regulation which had been implemented just a day before my travel stipulated that anyone under the 'Family Category' could only enter the country when accompanied by the individuals listed on the visa. Unfortunately, our travel agent was unaware of this sudden change, as it had not been enforced previously. As a result this unexpected rule caught me completely off guard. Therefore my options were either I board a flight leaving Dubai at midnight the next day as a form of deportation or my parents catch the next flight in. Regardless I was stranded for 24 hours.

Thankfully, my parents valid visa allowed them to hastily book the earliest possible flight. The rest of the day was a blur of monotony and survival. I wandered the departures terminal, aimlessly spraying perfume samples at duty-free, indulging in a McDonald’s burger (a rare luxury for Sri Lankans) and scouting out the most secluded washrooms for obvious reasons. My body, in a strange act of self-preservation shut down my brain’s ability to overthink. I moved through the hours on autopilot, resigned to the fact that I could do nothing but wait.

By 11 PM—24 hours since I’d arrived I got the text: my parents had landed. The next 90 minutes were the longest of my life. I paced the corridor endlessly trying to calm my nerves with flat Coca-Cola, cold French fries and the same paragraph of a book I’d read a dozen times. Finally, the message came: "They are coming to get you."

I packed my bag and planted myself by the door, heart pounding. When an officer finally called my name I leapt up following him as he handed my passport to another officer. Twenty minutes of bureaucratic formalities later, I was free!

Racing to the arrivals immigration counters I clutched my passport like a lifeline. And mirrored my parents expression when I saw them, exhausted but relieved.

I embraced the warm, dusty air of the car park as it felt like freedom.

Nearly 27 hours later I finally got my much deserved warm shower and got in to bed ready to call this entire ordeal a day. The experience was eye opening, and the lessons I learned will stay with me forever:

1. Stay Updated on Visa Rules: Visa regulations, especially in Dubai change constantly. Never rely solely on your travel agent. Triple-check everything.

   
   

2. Immigration Officers Work on Their Time: They’ve seen it all. It is what it is. Getting frustrated won’t help—consider it a test of patience.

   
   

3. Always Pack for the Unexpected: A warmer jacket and a change of clothes would’ve made a world of difference. Always be prepared for the worst.

4. It Can Happen to Anyone: Don’t think you’re immune to bizarre travel mishaps. Stay prepared.

5. Calm Is Key: Panic won’t solve anything. Cry if you need to, then think logically and find someone who can help.

   
   

6. The Best Washroom in DXB: Getting back to the title, the best washroom in my opinion is on the first floor of the departures terminal. One restaurant to the right of Dunkin’ Donuts, take a left at the escalator and down the small corridor. It’s quiet, clean and tucked away perfect for a moment of peace in the chaos or in my case a bad stomach.