Welcome to Mecca's playground

It's Friday prayer in Manama's Adliya neighborhood, and the voice of an angry imam blasts from the loudspeakers of nearby mosque. Looking to watch the Australian Open on TV, I hop into a cab and head north to a bar in Hoora. I pass on my destination to the driver, a Bahraini in traditional Gulf Arab dress of thobe and dishdasha, and we're off.

“Would you like to watch TV?” he asks. Well, sure, but whe....Now I see. There are screens on the back of the headrests in front of me, and another in the driver's center console, where the radio should be. He pushes a button and the bass blasts in stereo sound. Akon appears onscreen with Snoop and a gaggle of writhing hotties. “I wanna F**K you!” says Akon.

Does he get sports in this thing? I start fiddling with the buttons below the monitor, trying to change the channel. “It's a DVD!” he says, turning to smile at me.

I see. So this supposedly conservative Muslim cab driver is playing a DVD of raunchy hip hop and rap videos for his mainly Western clientele. Brilliant. Except that he's been sucked in: minutes later, while Shakira's hips are telling grave truths, his eyes dart back and forth between screens -- windshield, video, windshield, video. Somehow, we make it to our destination.

As I pay him, a question comes to mind: the videos might improve his tips, but considering Manama's unpredictable drivers, how long will the salad days last?

Later that afternoon I get into another cab and the driver offers some of Manama's earthly pleasures. “Would you like a woman?” he asks. “Very nice, you get everything – massage, shower.”

One thing's for sure: these are not Osama's Muslims.