Scrolling through social media this week, I kept seeing the same images again and again: travellers stranded across the region because of rising tensions in the Middle East. Flights suspended. Routes diverted. Families waiting anxiously for updates on when they might finally reach their destinations.

But one thought kept returning to me as I read those stories. Not about the disruption, but about how different things are today.

Because more than three decades ago, during another Gulf crisis, I almost became one of those stranded travellers myself. And back then, help was not a tweet away, a WhatsApp message away, or a credit card tap away.

In fact, for a few tense hours in 1990, my friends and I had no idea how we were going to get home.

1990: When tensions gripped the regions

The year was 1990. Iraq had invaded neighbouring Kuwait, triggering international condemnation and a massive military buildup across the Gulf.

A coalition led by the United States was preparing for what would later become known as Operation Desert Storm, aimed at liberating Kuwait and restoring stability to the region.

Amid this geopolitical tension, however, a much younger version of myself had something entirely different on my mind: travel.

Youthful wanderlust out on an adventure

In my days of youth, along with a motley group of equally adventurous friends, I set off on what we imagined would be an unforgettable backpack-style journey through parts of Southeast Asia.

We flew out of Dubai full of excitement, eager to explore. As we wandered through lively streets, bustling markets and popular tourist spots, every moment felt like a discovery. The journey became even more memorable through the food we sampled — authentic Oriental dishes and bold flavours we had never experienced before, from deep-fried crickets and grasshoppers to fried snakehead fish and even raw liver traditionally served with glutinous rice as part of a Khantoke meal.

Far from the desert city we call home, we found ourselves surrounded by landscapes that felt entirely new. For days, we travelled through cities and countryside alike, covering miles by road and on foot, immersing ourselves in the sights, sounds and flavours of the Far East.

Eventually, reality beckoned. It was time to return to Dubai and to our jobs. Like many other young travellers living from pay cheque to pay cheque, we had stretched our modest travel budgets. By the time we reached the airport for our return flight, each of us had barely Dh50 left, just enough for a taxi ride home from Dubai Airport. 

The shock at the airport

At the airline check-in counter, our excitement quickly turned into disbelief.  We were informed that our tickets did not include a war-risk surcharge, an additional insurance requirement introduced because of the Gulf crisis. Without paying for it, we were told, we could not board the plane.

I cannot recall the exact figure today, but each of us needed roughly $10 to $20 to cover the insurance. It may sound trivial now, but at that moment, it was money we simply did not have.

Stranded without money or communication

This was long before the era of smartphones, digital banking or instant messaging. Even mobile phones were rare. We were stuck in a foreign country where we were essentially strangers. We knew no one who could help us. We had no credit cards, no spare cash and not even enough money to make an international phone call to our offices in Dubai.

The reality of the situation slowly sank in. Anxiety crept into our voices. Panic followed. The joyous adventure we had been celebrating for weeks suddenly seemed ready to end in uncertainty.

A desperate plea

We pleaded with the airline staff, explaining that we needed to return to Dubai urgently or risk losing our jobs. In desperation, we even suggested giving the airline an IOU, promising to repay the insurance amount once we reached Dubai.

Initially, the staff refused to bend the rules. Finally, we asked the counter staff to contact their station manager and at least allow us to explain our predicament.

After reviewing our documents and verifying our details, the airline manager eventually agreed to make an exception. We were allowed to board.

A close escape

We breathed a sigh of relief. By sheer luck, we had arrived at the airport five hours before departure, which gave the airline and us time to resolve the issue. Had we arrived later, we would have missed the flight, and our adventure could have ended very differently.

The experience taught us a lasting lesson: no matter how strong the wanderlust, travel formalities should never be ignored. Enjoying youth’s freedom is fun, but it can have serious consequences.

Why today’s travellers in UAE are fortunate

Today, as I watch stories of stranded travellers in the UAE receiving assistance and support, I am reminded how fortunate they are to be in a country that responds quickly to such challenges. From ensuring free accommodation and food to helping stranded travellers rearrange flights and waiving fines for overstaying, the system moves to reduce uncertainty for people caught in difficult circumstances.

Looking back at that anxious day at an airport thousands of kilometres away in 1990, I realise just how easily things could have gone wrong for us.

Many memories fade, but the relief of finally boarding that flight and the lessons it taught me are still clear today.