If the title of this post hasn’t told you a thing or two about my life then buddy, I’m not the only one who needs to be checked out. I have sarcastically been having the best summer of my entire life (no sarcasm) and I just don’t want to know what will ever happen to me when it does come to an end - *cue the drama* Oh the horror!
Seriously though, tiny spaces do in fact drive me bonkers and those who know me will know that it doesn’t take much to make me cry so that bit about the sad movies is pretty much valid too. For the past few days, my summer vacation has been spent cooped up in my two by naught dorm room watching Modern Family (which is HILARIOUS btw), eating, staring blankly at my walls, listening to music and watching a sad movie or ten. No need to be alarmed. I haven’t been wasting my days away just doing that. That would be the most absurd thing ever! Please! I mean c’mon!!!! Who do you think this is? Added to that spicy concoction, I’ve been intoxicating myself with the hardest liquor boredom has to offer… having genuine delight in a monotonous task - I’ve been doing, undoing, and THEN redoing my thick, textured, afrod hair for no apparent reason. Now, you tell me my summer vacation doesn’t just sound delicious!
I did go out to a club last Thursday with some of my best buds in Morocco and I did have quite the time of dancing my little tushy off. Get this though; in recognition of the teensy tiny dash of Caribbean folk living in this massive country, the nightclub, (which will not be named) Harolds’, decided to have a Caribbean night.
Now, since I’m missing Antigua’s annual summer festival this year, I was pretty delighted to know that I’d actually get to go to a club, hear some Caribbean music for the most part of the night, and most likely dance my butt off. I did actually go to a club. I did hear some Caribbean music. I did dance my butt off… ish. BUT, is it too much for a girl to ask if all she ever wanted if more than ten, count 'em, TEN Caribbean songs? I mean, I was there for over three hours (I know.. LAME!!!!) and the majority of the music was NOT even Caribbean based. I mean, one would think that this would NOT be the case at a Caribbean night… I mean, HELLO!!!!! They didn’t even have the bloody place decorated to go along with the theme for the night. Pfffftttt!!! Nevertheless, I always know how to enjoy myself with any little that I’ve been given… and oh boy was it a little.
Now, since I’m missing Antigua’s annual summer festival this year, I was pretty delighted to know that I’d actually get to go to a club, hear some Caribbean music for the most part of the night, and most likely dance my butt off. I did actually go to a club. I did hear some Caribbean music. I did dance my butt off… ish. BUT, is it too much for a girl to ask if all she ever wanted if more than ten, count 'em, TEN Caribbean songs? I mean, I was there for over three hours (I know.. LAME!!!!) and the majority of the music was NOT even Caribbean based. I mean, one would think that this would NOT be the case at a Caribbean night… I mean, HELLO!!!!! They didn’t even have the bloody place decorated to go along with the theme for the night. Pfffftttt!!! Nevertheless, I always know how to enjoy myself with any little that I’ve been given… and oh boy was it a little.
Now this past Monday was quite an exciting day too. Now everyone who’s anyone hates Mondays. I mean, which NORMAL person goes to bed on a Sunday night and say “Gee, I can’t wait for tomorrow!” Should you know anyone who does this, do suggest that they make some friends or get checked out… unless Monday is the day that they get to see the girl/guy at work that they’ve been oodling. The point is, Monday’s are pretty much uneventful in the social sense – not in the sense of having a job where you earn money for showing up. This Monday, however, was not like regular Mondays for me. Why? Here we go…
Part I
You Can NEVER Cheat a Cheater
Shopping is something that I love dearly. We are usually best friends but sometimes, things get a bit rocky between us. I am not for tooting my own horn or anything BUT just for the purpose of getting my message across in this post, I will have to be inclined to make an exception. Now, due to my great sense of style, my French know-how and my charm, my presence is usually requested when my friends have major purchases to be made. Now when my friend Coady had to go buy a suit and some other things for the pageant he was entering at our place of lodging, I felt it was both an honor and a necessity for me to accompany him- mostly for my sake. - If I had to spend another straight week in that room and be annoyed by the usual culprits, someone was gonna have to come get me from Morocco. My sanity is hanging on by a thread here. THEN!!! I find out that one of my musical idols was dead (Amy Winehouse of course) I felt the world begin to crumble below me. There are only very few people who can actually make me sad music that I love and learn line by line -she, Adele and Duffy are among my top pics. But I digress...
So we went to Centre Ville and found a suit in little to no time which was cause for celebration. As momentous an occasion as this was, we sooner found out it was too good to be true. After leaving, we went to Agdal – my fave shopping area in Morocco… well second only to Casablanca thus far. We get to Agdal and find a suit… very very very similar… one may even say the same suit, for about three hundred dollars less. Now we hadn’t TECHNICALLY bought the first suit, BUT we did pay for half of it already. So we concocted a great plan which, with the highest level of optimism jabbing at our naïve little hearts, would get us the money back from the first suit shop and allow us to get the second suit with cash to spare and go towards other important things. So we head back to the first shop, and my lie went a little bit like this:
*Think serious face and light panting – since we had to "rush" back immediately after getting the devastating news* : The show was going to be held on Thursday but my friend (Coady) just got a call from his brother saying that the cheapest ticket he could find for his trip back home was for this Wednesday so our dear Coady, torn up as he could ever be, would not be able to participate in the pageant… unfortunately. I hold my head, apologize profusely. Obviously, you can’t trick a trickster, or cheat a cheater and that dude read right through my BS. So much so that he handed me a plate of BS that he had created too. Ahem:
According to this “gentleman” the owner of the shop had already come and taken all of the earnings for the day and he was already in Casablanca. Now, here are a few reasons for this being an unacceptable excuse:
1. We had left but one hour or so before.
2. Casablanca was about two or three hours away by car.
3. If the proprietor had already taken the day’s earnings, then why oh why was the shop still even open????
1. We had left but one hour or so before.
2. Casablanca was about two or three hours away by car.
3. If the proprietor had already taken the day’s earnings, then why oh why was the shop still even open????
Being the drama queen I am, I started to carry on with my carrying ons- holding my head, giving him puppy dog eyes, smiling… you know… in a dramatic way. None of it worked. Blast!!!!!! Needless to say we left without a dirham (Moroccan currency). Which leads us to the final part of my exciting day…
PART II
When in Morocco…
Run as the Moroccans run. Yep… I did quite a bit of running after leaving the suit shop. So there we were, waiting to cross the street to get to the bus stop when we see a great big crowd of people running towards us. We thought:
1. It was a group of protestors (that is a norm here).
2. The town was being attacked.
3. It was an angry mob of crazy people looking to slay whosoever would be in their path.
4. They were getting some exercise.
1. It was a group of protestors (that is a norm here).
2. The town was being attacked.
3. It was an angry mob of crazy people looking to slay whosoever would be in their path.
4. They were getting some exercise.
With all of these possible reasons, one would expect that these two black kids (Coady and myself) would resort to the typical black response to a situation such as this – RUN AWAY! But oh no! Not us!!! We were inquisitive Sam and Sally, just dying to find out what was going on. In a split second, we got our wish. I swear I blinked twice before the mob was just a mere stone’s throw away.
Haha… funny I should mention stones and throwing here. These people started picking up and throwing stones. Guess what we did? We watched… until it was an inch or two away from us of course. Then we started to do as all the other innocent bystanders… We RAN!!!! From my new vantage point, I could see a single guy being charged by this group of angry, stone-throwing people… with a machete. Nope… You did not read wrong… a MACHETE. Oh how my heart started to pound. I started to think… Did everyone in the mob have a machete? I looked down the road by which they came for a trail of bodies but fornutaely, there were no dead bodies lying in the street. I felt comforted that the angry people were just angry and not angry and murdering. UNTIL they started tossing the stones at machete guy … hitting both him and poor, innocent parked cars.
The thuds of rock to roof top were alarming. Not wanting to sound racist, but I’ve heard of murders in the East that were conducted with the help of stones, an angry enough mob and some poor, sad soul who was to receive the stoning. Now Morocco is a lot of things in my opinion but I could never imagine they would allow this to happen in as busy an area as this, where the TOURISTS would most likely be crowded. My little heart leapt and did a few cartwheels. I thought he was getting ready to pack up and leave me at the side of the road, just watching all of this madness unfold.
When machete guy fell and the stoners encircled him, I was almost sure he was saying his prayers. Dudes seemed like they were aiming to KILL or damage beyond repair. This sucker was nobody’s sucker though, because amidst all of the stones, he found the strength to get up and start chasing those attempting to kill him. It was not a scene to be close to. That wasn’t the most horrific part though. This little guy (not little guy like politically correct little guy but I use this term to describe short guys, which Morocco has many of) runs behind machete guy with a long stick and wacks him across the back with it. I wasn’t having any more of it, plus my poor heart couldn’t take it so we finally zipped through the even bigger crowd that had formed along the way and ran for a taxi. Up until now, I’m wishing it was a bad dream but unfortunately it wasn’t. I do hope that if I am to ever see that again it will be in a dream. Trust me, I’ll find a joke or fifty to make out of this but right now, I’m trying to forget it even happened.
Haha… funny I should mention stones and throwing here. These people started picking up and throwing stones. Guess what we did? We watched… until it was an inch or two away from us of course. Then we started to do as all the other innocent bystanders… We RAN!!!! From my new vantage point, I could see a single guy being charged by this group of angry, stone-throwing people… with a machete. Nope… You did not read wrong… a MACHETE. Oh how my heart started to pound. I started to think… Did everyone in the mob have a machete? I looked down the road by which they came for a trail of bodies but fornutaely, there were no dead bodies lying in the street. I felt comforted that the angry people were just angry and not angry and murdering. UNTIL they started tossing the stones at machete guy … hitting both him and poor, innocent parked cars.
The thuds of rock to roof top were alarming. Not wanting to sound racist, but I’ve heard of murders in the East that were conducted with the help of stones, an angry enough mob and some poor, sad soul who was to receive the stoning. Now Morocco is a lot of things in my opinion but I could never imagine they would allow this to happen in as busy an area as this, where the TOURISTS would most likely be crowded. My little heart leapt and did a few cartwheels. I thought he was getting ready to pack up and leave me at the side of the road, just watching all of this madness unfold.
When machete guy fell and the stoners encircled him, I was almost sure he was saying his prayers. Dudes seemed like they were aiming to KILL or damage beyond repair. This sucker was nobody’s sucker though, because amidst all of the stones, he found the strength to get up and start chasing those attempting to kill him. It was not a scene to be close to. That wasn’t the most horrific part though. This little guy (not little guy like politically correct little guy but I use this term to describe short guys, which Morocco has many of) runs behind machete guy with a long stick and wacks him across the back with it. I wasn’t having any more of it, plus my poor heart couldn’t take it so we finally zipped through the even bigger crowd that had formed along the way and ran for a taxi. Up until now, I’m wishing it was a bad dream but unfortunately it wasn’t. I do hope that if I am to ever see that again it will be in a dream. Trust me, I’ll find a joke or fifty to make out of this but right now, I’m trying to forget it even happened.
On that note. I hope you’re having a better summer vacation than I am… It’s almost done, so if you’re not doing anything, GET TO IT ALREADY!!!!!!!!!!!!
HUUUGGSSS!!!!
Den
