The Moroccan Mistake

We ended our European Tour with a taste of the mother land--in the country of Morocco. Although stationed in the continent of Africa, Morocco is heavily influenced by Berber and Arabian cultures. While visiting the country we caught all the feels the medina city of Marrakesh had to offer. Arriving in the wee hours of the morning, we made a grave mistake in not having pre-booked transportation. In luck, exiting the airport lines of 70’s dated Mercedes Benz taxis welcomed us. With so many to choose from, we negotiated to what we thought was a fair price. With lack of cell service, we couldn’t even fact check whether the taxi driver overcharged or not. Come to find out, he ripped us off royally. But once you read on, I guess the man above served him up a cold payback sandwich. So in retrospect, it all worked out. Wanna know all the fixins’ of that sandwich? Well, sit back and enjoy the ride… make sure you buckle up and refrain from opening the exit door!

Now in the back of the benz, bear in mind, the super outdated benz. Jai riding shotgun in the passenger and I’m sprawled out in the back seat. Remember in our destination tab, we mentioned Marrakesh is divided into Old and New Marrakech. Though local to Marrakech, our taxi driver must of lived in New Marrakech, cause he had difficulties navigating the Old medina city. After a couple reverses and several phone calls to our Riad host, our taxi finally got us to our destination. The benz literally gave us curb side service. Not because our driver wanted a 5-star rating, but because the roads in Old Marrakech are just that narrow! Either way, car in park, and now I’m super eager to lay my head down. Filled with thirst, I opened the right rear car door, one foot hoovering over the running board plotting my leave. A millisecond later, I hear a load crash and see a pair of humans on a dirt bike karate flipping over that very same car door I was intending to exit. In slow motion, the dirt bike did summersaults in the air taking the passengers along for the ride. Just in case you didn’t understand me---Two young kids just crashed into the open car door and were ejected in the air. In awe, I hurriedly closed the door. However, it retreated back so quickly, as if, it was on a spring. The door off the hinges, the two young passengers wobbling up from the ground, the dirt bike revved against the wall, the taxi driver pacing while mumbling “this is bad, this is bad” and then me—frantic. Anxiety chimed in and I honestly had so many thoughts running through my mind. One, did I just kill someone one in somebody else country? Two, am I going to a Moroccan jail? Three, what if I actually stepped out? Four, I would be in a Moroccan hospital with a manslaughter charge going to jail.

While anxiously pondering my potential Moroccan demise, our Riad door swung open. And I swear I saw shining rays of light radiating from the door. Our Riad host then grabbed us, sternly telling us to get inside. Now inside, or host calmly looked at us and in a very firmly said “don’t ever take taxi again”. Ummmm, point duly noted. You aint gotta tell me twice. This will forever go down in the vacation tales as--The Moroccan Mistake.