An enthralling World Cup encounter between Spain and Germany has just finished – and now the real battle has begun.
We’d heard about the challenge of getting home from the remote Al Bayt Stadium – located in the Qatari desert some 50km north of Doha and the only of the tournament’s eight venues not connected to the $36 billion Metro network.
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And when it comes to 10pm local kickoffs in Qatar and getting home, time is money.
There are shuttles that will take us back to the main media hub. That is the safe option – not necessarily the quickest, but probably the smart one. But my colleague and I want to try the full fan experience so we boldly decide to jag an Uber that will take us directly home.
It is the perfect plan. And one, it will later become clear, that is also shared by most of the 68,000 fans in attendance.
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The $1.2bn venue, remarkably, has road bridges on either end that allow V-VIPS to drive straight into the heart of the stadium. Royal family kind of V-VIPs. We saw a convoy arrive there six minutes before kickoff and another is exiting as we leave the stadium right on the stroke of midnight.
It couldn’t be further from the chaos that’s awaiting us outside.
From experience at other grounds we expect quite a walk to get to the designated Uber pick-up zone but our trump card is ordering one well in advance. Mohamed accepts the job immediately. We have our man.
He messages to let us know his location.
‘We’ll see you soon’… ‘Great’
It’s 20 minutes before we get to the exit of the stadium. Then another 15 before we get to where we think we’ll be meeting Mohamed. Only this is just the beginning of another journey.
The huge crowd is hoarded into snaking barriers that twist and turn, and twist again. With every small step we and the sea of people edge closer to the promised land but progress is agonisingly slow.
“Are you still coming?,” Mohamed messages. I really hope so.
We come to a large bridge over a freeway that suggests we are almost at the pick-up point. When we finally arrive we’re greeted by what can only be described as the world’s biggest Uber zoo.
There are thousands of cars parked and as many drivers out of their vehicles, trying to find their clients or offering rides. “Taxi, sir?…. Taxi?”
It’s tempting, but Mohamed has shown his patience and loyalty and we will too. We must find him.
“Find me on the map,” he says. We follow the location, past an endless row of cars until, finally, Mohamed’s glorious, grey Honda appears.
He is as relieved to see us as we are him and we hop in the car. Now it’s go time for the great man – getting out of this mess will not be easy.
There are more twists and turns – at one point even a U-turn – and some restless honking but we finally end up in what appears to be a queue with some semblance of order. Mohamed’s game face is still on though, he knows the job is not done yet.
We inch closer and closer and, on the stroke of 1.30am, we finally get to the main road where we can commence the 45 minute trip back to Doha.
We thank Mohamed. “60,000 people, all coming out one exit,” he says, smiling.
He makes a great point. And all things considered, it’s really not a bad result. He’s not complaining, neither are we.
It’s a sentiment that seemed to be shared by most on our journey – and many others we’ve met at this one-of-a-kind tournament so far; grateful to be here and ready to embrace the twists, turns and chaos.
