Since Daddy and I spent New Year's Eve taking part in one of our longest-standing traditions (being utterly miserable at home; this year, the stroke of midnight found me hurling simultaneous ultimatums at my T-Mobile customer service rep and my screaming infant, query as to which one has the lesser intellect), Daddy surprised me a few days later with a dinner reservation at the famed Burj Al Arab hotel. Here are some facts (question mark?) that I lifted from Wikipedia about the legendary establishment:
It is one of the world's tallest hotels;
it is built on a man-made island;
it was created to be the iconic structure of Dubai;
its architecture is intended to resemble the sail of an Arabian vessel;
it cost $650 million to build;
its atrium is almost 600 feet high;
it characterizes itself as the only 7-star hotel;
it has 202 suites, all of which are two-story;
the restaurant where we dined, Al Mahara, has a seawater aquarium of 35,000 cubic feet;
and
Conde Nast Traveler named it one of the Top Ten restaurants in the world.
Wikipedia left out one of my very favorite nuggets of Burj Al Arab trivia, however: the hotel charges you $50 per person just to look around in the lobby. (Genius! I should charge $50 to all the pervs who stare at my kids!)
And so, dear friends, for no cost to you at all, I invite you to partake in my photos of the lobby and beyond. Behold, the Burj Al Arab!
p.s. I am probably the least qualified restaurant critic on the planet, since my favorite restaurant is In-n-Out Burger, so it doesn't mean much to say that I wasn't blown away by my "Gold" Risotto. (Though I did enjoy performing my rendition of "I've Got a Golden Ticket" upon its arrival on my plate, so it wasn't a total loss.) But even Daddy, who is no stranger to fine food, said disapprovingly of his halibut, "There's a lot going on here," and that the restaurant overall "was highly overrated." Which is kind of shocking considering that the entrees ranged from $100 - $300 U.S. dollars each!
Next New Year's Eve, we already have reservations at Johnny Rockets. Bring on the Elvis impersonations, bitches.
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