It was all happening in the good old days. Life was simple, but fun

I arrived here on December 2, 1985. It was a holiday obviously, and the airport was decked with flags but had a very warm and friendly ambience to it. Everyone seemed to know everyone else and it was more like a club than an airport with members greeting each other or saying goodbye.
I was taken to the Ramada in Bur Dubai which area was literally like returning to India and after a walk that evening spent a very convivial time at the library with journalists from other countries who had arrived for the newspaper's relaunch.
From the window we could see the 'towering' Trade Center building on a road that snaked through a desert with only two buildings: the Toyota building and the Hilton apartments. The rest was a wind-blown desert. Then came the Dadabhai toyshop in a little corner two miles up from the Defence Roundabout. Today, this strip is the chrome and glass mountain range of Sheikh Zayed Road. Time was, when driving back from Abu Dhabi we would see the Trade Center loom soon after Jebel Ali and exult we were reaching home.
The next day was also a holiday so was invited to Al Ghurair Centre by BK Menon, one of its frontline conceptual architects. It was the place to go to and live in if you could get an apartment. Played my first squash game there with the prince of Time, Ramesh Prabhakar and that delightful dentist Rakesh Bhatia. Got drubbed.
The other addresses were Golden Sands and Silver Sands but if you wanted to enjoy a slice of snobbery you said 'Jooomayrahhhh' where there was also a pecking order of 1,2 and 3.
Time was, when the Burj Al Arab was Chicago Beach and we would romp Fridays on the pristine beach and going for night camps in the desert was the 'in' thing. There used to be a shack there on the beach that sold fried fish and you stood in line inhaling the tang of salt and spray waiting your turn.
Unless you were going to Karama, there was very little traffic on the roads and we could reach Sharjah in 20 minutes, Ajman in 10 minutes more, driving to the CBFS cricket stadium to watch those incredible India-Pakistan matches and cry ourselves a river when Javed Miandad hit that last ball six in 1986. I think I wept on the shoulders of the Menda brothers and was consoled by that great doyen of cricket and mentor of mine, Abdul Rahman Bukhatir.
Time was, when my wife trilled with excitement because at what is now Life Pharmacy on Al Wasl Road, the black SUV next to us holding at a red light was driven by His Highness Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum himself, waving and smiling, just another car on the road. Still remember when Emirates took off and we flew the 737 it had chartered. Today the world, tomorrow who knows.
Once, the Chairman Sheikh Ahmed was to inaugurate an aviation conference at the Airport Le Meridien and we were waiting to receive him and his entourage and he drove in, parked and came in from another entrance. No fuss, no bother, like he was a delegate and not the main man. Everyone went into happy shock.
In 1986, we had the first airshow and it was such fun, compact and easy to access and it actually attracted the world to Dubai, setting the standard for what it is today; the number one across-the-board aviation hub in the world. Media was making its presence felt gently. Television was Channel 33 and Richard Coram and the falcon on a light blue background, our entertainment.
Radio was nascent with Channel 4 the first commercial radio station, followed by Emirates Media Radio and the Arab Media Group. Everyone went to Al Mansoor video for VHS tapes courtesy my friend Khushi Katwani. Newspapers were growing and we were learning what a privilege and responsibility it was to run media as foreigners. For us, Obaid Al Tayer, Abdul Rahim and Abdul Latif Galadari and the Taryam brothers were the media moghuls. Every now and then, we had a course correction from the offices of Sheikh Hasher, Minister for Information, an immensely courteous personality, always ready to share the reasons why, behind a decision. Then there was our 'go to' man, the rock in Abu Dhabi, Ibrahim Al Abid of the National Media Council who was there for every journalist whatever the problem, a 24/7 open door from this untiring supporter of the fourth estate.
Time was, golf was a brown course with coir mats for the teeing off at the Country Club and Monday night squash league games and great camaraderie and erudite folks like Colm McLaughlin and Maurice Flanagan. Special society characters like business spearhead Ram Buxani and Indian icon Vasu Shroff, the prank playing LR Lulla and tycoon Manu Chhabbria, sharp witted Joe Senior the lawyer and social commentator, Stan 'the Man' Robinson from Mercedes whose 'Mad Hatter' annual dinner was a must-do on the social calendar. Fraser Martin and Jahanbaz Ali Khan and their long off road 4-wheel drives that made them the pioneers in that field.
Expat entertainment was fragmented by geography. Western expats congregated at their string of exclusive clubs and Asians had their favourite watering holes.
Pancho Villa at the Astoria, the Ambassador, Highland Lodge and George and the Dragon were favourites. Occasionally, paths crossed. At Magrudy's on Beach Road, it was the city's Mini Mall where you could get anything from greeting cards to bikes. 'Go to Magrudy's' was the shoppers' war cry. There were no speed cameras or radars but we drove carefully anyway. The Raft Race at Mina Seyahi was the biggest 'sports' event of the year and everyone came to watch, although the odds were the Dubai Police would be the winners. It was later joined by the Rugby Sevens as a compulsory event to attend.
All the cabs had fur on the seats and smelled of rosewater. The fare was negotiated. There were hardly any buses on the roads. Getting a driving licence was a cause for celebration. 
People smoked everywhere. You could park in the sand and drive cross country to the Khaleej Times offices. If you dented a fender, you frosted traffic till the police arrived.
Time was, that hotels were where the launches happened. We all had huge collection of colognes and perfumes, for every new fragrance called for an extravagant five-star party with props and generous giveaways. Jashanmals' Gangu Batra even brought a live white horse on stage for the launch of a perfume called Poseidon. or was it Escape by Calvin Klein on the beach at Jebel Ali - it has been so long. Motorbikes roared in for Surender Singh Kandhari's Al Dobowi event and cars and other imaginative back-ups were of the essence as ad agencies competed for visual drama with a frightening dedication. They did not give away cars to every guest at these events but every vehicle introduced to the market called for a big bash and a gift again. 
In fact, gifting and giveaways were endless and marked social life in Dubai. Dubai Duty Free made dreams come true giving Fly Buy Dubai a whole new meaning.
Raffles for bizzclass air tickets was the mandate at a decent party and everyone flew around for fun. Treasure hunts with clues strewn across the town were popular and you have to remember, no one had a mobile phone. We had each other. Then came the beepers.
I could go on, but as life changes and people go their way. I do have to mention one person who does not know he left a mark on our lives.
UAE Olympian champion Sheikh Ahmad bin Mohammad bin Hasher Al Maktoum who played squash with us regularly and never let us know who he was. An officer and a gentleman and a sportsman of the highest value, he speaks Hindi and Urdu with such felicity that it is my one regret that we were not compelled to learn Arabic in the years we have been in Dubai.
On this special occasion, give your children that vital opportunity which we never took and a great National Day to the people of the UAE. Onwards and upwards. 
Bikram Vohra is a former Editor of Khaleej Times

• Dubai