Paramedic to the Prince: An American Paramedic's Account of Life Inside the Mysterious World of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia

Paramedic to the Prince: An American Paramedic's Account of Life Inside the Mysterious World of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia

Patrick (Tom) Notestine

Language: English

Pages: 316

ISBN: 1439245819

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

A Californian paramedic answers an advertisement for contract work at a military hospital in Saudi Arabia. So his adventure begins. This is a riveting, factual account of his ten years inside a country seldom seen by the outside world. Working on the private medical staff of King Abdullah, no western writer has ever been this close to the "House of Saud". The author takes you on a journey from the desert camps of the Bedouin to the highest echelons of the Saudi royal family. From meetings between King Abdullah and Yasser Arafat to the death of Edi Amin the author documents it all. Themes explored include the contrast of cultures and the rise of terrorism in a post 9/11 world. The author's unique and often humorous perspective provides a view of Saudi society that has never before been documented by any other book in this genre. The author gives an important insight to events that continue to affect the world today.

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a long pole with a noose on the end. Like he’s coming to collect a wild animal. I go downstairs to meet him. “You won’t need that,” I say, “this thing follows you around like a dog.” “Uh-uh. Tom, I’ve dealt with baboons – I take no chances.” He’s hauling the cage out, lays it on the front porch. I go up and collect her. She’s walking behind me as usual, she walks out on the porch, she takes one look at Dr Browne and one look at the cage and she shins up the corner of the villa in three

they would have taken in Atlanta or Chicago, and every one of them failed miserably. I called them all together again. “Come on, you guys. What did you do for three years? You just partied your asses off, didn’t you?” They looked sheepish. Much later, when I got to know them better, I ran an informal test on one of the twenty who was a friend: Night-clubs of New York. He did very well at that. In the meantime, we had to do something, because the National Guard had spent a whole lot of money

her hand. “D’y’all wanna ride out with us into the desert? We’re going out there.” “What for?” “Well you know that kitten we found? Well that kitten it died. And I got it right here in this box – I bathed it and I cleaned it and it smells real pretty, and I put a li’l bow round its neck – and we’re gonna bury it.” We stayed home. “How did it go?” I asked next day. “Oh,” Lily said, with a faraway look “you should’a went. We went out there, we buried the cat, very quiet, all the stars, and

Gaddafi. What a prima donna. There is a double curving staircase that rises from the lobby of the Meridian – and this lobby is packed with TV crews, littered with cables and cameras. The world leaders would stride in wearing preoccupied expressions, turn sharp left to the bank of elevators and be whisked upwards. Gaddafi saunters in, effeminate, slinky, minces up the stairs two or three steps, poses for the photo-opportunity, and sashays on up like he’s in a Busby Berkeley musical. He has

whole place for the three days while the Crown Prince was in Mecca. We didn’t have a lot to do, so we just looked around. And here I come again and it’s all been re-done. There are genuine old masters on the walls, soft intricate carpets, and Limoges china with the royal emblem. A lot of the people that get to stay are just staff, really, like us. I said, “Do you get people stealing things, ever?” “All the time. When the Libyans came, they stole everything that was not nailed down. Paintings,

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