My cousin and I were standing infront of a stack of CDs in Bahrain's Euphoria, and out of nowhere this woman we have never seen before, walks up to us, points to another woman who's garbed in head-to-toe black, (abaya, Niquab, the whole deal) and says: "See that woman over there? In the Niquab? That there is Michael Jackson!"
So I got to meet Michael Jackson. No shit.
He was really nice. He liked my blue nail polish and he kept saying "God bless you, God bless you!"
He asked us not to tell anyone it was him. Apparently he doesn't want people knowing it's him.
You see, it's completely normal to see a tall woman with pale, pale hands in a Niquab, abaya, and huge sunglasses indoors, at 8 in the evening, walking around with an army of nannies, (yes, we saw two of his kids, minus the bags over their heads. Pretty good-looking kids, actually.) and a gang of personal assistants. Not suspisious looking at all.
I got an autographed CD. Shall post a picture of it when I figure out how. And when I actually take one.
I need to go pack. We're leaving in a few hours.
(For those of you who don't know, a Niquab is a face cover.)