Lusty Men are Early to Rise in Kuwait

Its 6:30am and your favorite crazy white lady is out running the Gulf Road seaside walking path that passes in front of her Salmiya, Kuwait apartment. This brick sidewalk follows the beach front and is home to some of the few living trees in the country. It sounds lovely, right? Jealous much?

Well, let me fill in a few more details that flesh out the complete picture. The beach is covered with trash: broken bottles, fast food debris, grocery bags and picnic left-overs, old rugs (that I assume were used for the picnicking), shoes, dead fish that perhaps choked in the raw sewage contaminated waters, and other random junk.

From time to time the elementary schools will organize a clean-up mission, but their efforts are quickly thwarted by the next round of irresponsible weekenders. The high-dollar beach front property that should be home to 5-star restaurants and grossly overpriced apartments is occupied instead by Burger King, Pizza Hut, McDonalds, and one hip Hollywood themed restaurant/sheesha bar named Divas. Alas, it is a run/walk trail and I am a runner.

Back to my story; it's now 6:37am and I'm out for a jog with my new and first ever iPod. I'm rocking out to some Rob Zombie wearing Doug's huge workout pants, and XL long sleeve Robotech t-shirt and mirrored shades. This is not a sexy image. If the guys here had long hair I could have easily been mistaken for a dude.

Rounding the corner at the Pizza Hut outdoor seating area, I see a man in matching sweatshirt and pants walking towards me. As soon as he notices me he reaches for his junk. And I don't mean the shit that's scattered on the beach. No, this guy is definitely man handling himself for me to witness. As we cross paths I give my best "you're f*cking pathetic" scowl and keep moving. I'm thinking it's a bit early to be prowling for play, but I suppose the Desprate House Wives re-runs don't air on KTV until after noon prayers.

I reach the end of the trail and double back. About half way down I see Mr. Gray Sweatshirt Grabby Pants. Again, I spot him before he spots me and as soon as he does, there he goes... hand to crotch. This time it is serious, and I think I am supposed to be flattered or impressed. I make a long loop to give myself time to grab the pepper spray in my pocket and make sure the nozzle is pointed in the right direction, take note of the wind, and catch my breath in case I need to spray and sprint.

Now, I see like 5 gray sweat suit dudes. Which one is the cock jockey? Although I would love the chance to finally use my pepper spray, I figure it would be best to avoid confrontation. I headed for home zig-zagging and dodging, Frogger-style, across the sand, through parking lots, scaling the sea wall and jumping fastfood restaurant drive-through barriers.

Avoiding early morning perverts is such a great workout.