I had a strange relationship with Emirates — not the United Arab Emirates as a country, but the airliner, EK — as well as with Qatar and Etihad.
I liked them not only for their luxurious fleets, high service standards, and generous baggage allowances, but also for what they represented. Flying with them meant that the whole world lay open in front of you. You could reach almost any corner of the planet — from New York City to Christchurch, and even, not long ago, from Caracas to Tehran.
Whenever I saw passengers boarding their aircraft, or standing in line at their check-in counters, I would think of their (final) destinations. Europe? Africa? Or even South America? I never knew. That uncertainty was part of the magic. Only those airlines ever gave me that feeling.
My first intercontinental flight, as well as my first long-haul flight, was operated by Emirates EK, which makes the “EK = the world” equation feel even more personal to me. Even now, thinking about it still moves me.
I was neither intellectually prepared nor confident enough to speak my political opinions out loud. But I genuinely hoped that the world would become a better place again, and that everything the ME3 once represented might somehow return.