قيد

"La mashkour, ana gi6a3t" said Bashar, the flight attendant, reaching for the packet of smokes in the extended hands of his friend from the gym who happened to be on his flight. Faris smiled leaning to his side, digging his hand in his pocket reaching for a lighter, "eh 3alamik, ana ga6i3 ma3aak, allahuma lel tasleya" he mocked.
Bashar leaned in with the cigarette in his mouth, shielding it with his hands and puffing as Faris extended the lighter, "3adil, 3adil" Bashar replied, "thabe6ni khol-walaa3a Faroos".

The two have lost contact two years ago, in 1993, when the gym they worked out at caught fire. At the time, Bashar always talked about being a pilot; Faris always talked about becoming the first Arab Mr Universe. Two years later, in the present day, Bashar has been a flight attendant for the past 3 months, and Faris just won his first championship in the 80kg category in Kuwait.

"Shoof yoba, once you get past the looks and the 'oh, ent kwaity?', it's smooth sailing from there. I just figured I'd try out the whole schedule thing before asking my dad to pay the full fees for KA, see if this is for me or not" said Bashar, looking right and left for somewhere, something to rid his smoke from the ashes. He leaned in to look past Faris, checking if someone was nearing the back of the plane. He flicked the cigarette letting the ashes fall on the floor, "kaify kwaity, you get to get away with shit like this over here" he joked. "Eeh baayin, ashofik et6ag6eg went tesaweeha", Bashar snapped.

Faris held the empty coke bottle in his hand and used it as his ash-tray, "Ya3ni lal7eenek naawy etkamel 6ayraan?" he asked.
Bashar shrugged, "It's either that, or a job at a bank where all my family are already. Taby il sij, il thiyaafa yayzatly bas 3ad ta3al yawwid 7annat o rannat il waaldah, ely yesma3ha yegool baayeg mo ga3ed ashteghel 7aly 7aal khalg allah. Mesta7ya mn rifeejat'ha sayidaat il mojtama3".
Faris nodded in agreement, he could relate. Professional bodybuilding in Kuwait wasn't exactly your best shot at social recognition. Heck, it wasn't even considered a sport. Just something for born-in-Kuwait Arab nationals to do, "wetha kelesh b tethba7 3omrek, ib yengaal 3anik bidoun", Faris continued. "Il waalid allah yhadaah ma bega 7ad ma dazah 3alay, mako watheefa ma thabba6ha ly. 3enda lo eny ashteghel b ma7a6at banzeen ashraff o 'tet6awaf' men laa eny 'atfassakh wat7ailag b mashyety jedam elnaas' 3ala goltah".

Bashar rid himself of his cigarette throwing it in the extended coke bottle, he started piling trays and nodding to what Faris was saying. "Ana agool jam3aat il ordun o massir matrid 7ad, kelesh kelesh 6againalnaa shahadtain handasa o 3ilom seyaseya", said Bashar. Faris laughed, recognizing that Bashar was talking about two of their friends back from the gym.
"In radat lel sij Basharoo, il ahal o kalamhom shay basee6 o motwaga3, mo fahmeen ena kel wa7ed o meyolah aw 6emo7ah. Il balwa lama tiyee eb takh6eb betkamel ness deenik, ma chenik aademy tenrefith 3ala asaas ena 'la wala fashla'".
"Shfeeh bo niss deenek, Faroos ent e3rif el niss el awal belawal", he teased, "bas wallah ma3ak 7ag. Ma atwaga3 fi wa7da b hal wagt eb tertha ib sheefty wana 3ala hal 7aal."

Faris made way for another flight attendant calling for Bashar. As any self respecting young male, he checked her out from bottom to.. yeah, any self respecting young male would just settle for that. "Wetgooly zawaaj?", Bashar asked rhetorically, "coming coming", he told his colleague.