Second flight

This was my second trip abroad. My employers in Kuwait had booked a Sri Lankan Airlines flight for me.
Malayalees to Gulf destinations preferred Sri Lankan Airlines, since it meant economy without compromising on quality, and plentiful drinks on board of course, before one more long stint in liquor-dry Kuwait. It was early morning when the flight taxied off a wet runway at Trivandrum. I had a window seat which I had asked for in particular during baggage check-in.
As the flight neared Colombo, I was mesmerized by the dazzling landscape below with serpentine rivers making their way through hills bedecked with palm trees. Not very different from my native Kerala but a more exotic version of God's Own Land.
It saddened me to think that a land as beautiful as this was till recently ravaged by a mindless civil war from which apparently no one had to gain.
On landing at Colombo International Airport, my transit to Kuwait, I adjusted my watch to local time.
I badly needed a smoke. I found that the smoking area at the airport was a small room coated with soot with no ventilation not to speak of air-conditioning, in sharp contrast to the rest of the posh airport; smoking was apparently discouraged. As the plastic wrappers of the cigarette packs caught fire in the ash depositors, the room was filled with an acrid smell, forcing most of the smokers to puff away to glory near the entrance of the smoking den, causing inconvenience to non smokers packed just outside.
I decided that I would rather have a bout of wheezing sickness rather than give up my cigarette. As I smoked I happened to eavesdrop on a conversation between two of my own countrymen, who actually happened to be from places not far from my hometown. One of the more talkative ones was lamenting the cruel whims of his Arab boss.
I was not the only one who overheard him apparently, because a third Malayalee who was on his way to London via Colombo, picked up this converstation with me:
"It feels pathetic isn't it", he remarked as he took swigs of brandy from a metal flask he carried, "these poor guys, made to toil and suffer so much in the Gulf and when they land back home they are harassed by customs for none of their fault."
I nodded agreeingly. It seemed my Kuwaiti superiors would not be very easy to deal with.
"I move around a lot you see, since I am in the shipping industry", he added with a cunnning glint in his eye. "I was once posted to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. But I threatened to put in my papers if that was to be. And when I told my wife, she said, 'Why, Saudi Arabia is the second best place in the world.' And when I asked her which was the best, she replied laughing,' Why? The rest of the world of course!' "