to kingdom come

23 Aug

I did something wild! And crazy! today.

I booked a flight to Morocco.*

Shit, that reminds me. I still need to renew my passport.

Okay, so it’s not all that crazy and wild. The idea for this trip has actually been in the works for quite some time. Turner moved to Rabat to be with her manfriend (now husband) back in February. The December before, as we drove around the icy streets of DC talking about her upcoming move, and being posted in Africa for two years, she was panicked that not a single soul would come visit her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I looked at her in consternation. “Seriously? Fine. I’ll just say it right now. I’ll be there next December.”

“Really?” Turner replied, full of hope.

“Dude. A new country to visit, a new continent to visit, and a free place to stay. Have you met me? Of course I will come visit. I promise.”

Promises of visitors in hand, Turner, as I said, went off to Africa in February, got herself married and is living the life. And I, not being one to back out of promises, so help me God, and wanting to pursue more travel, because if not now, when?, have been stalking air fares to Rabat, and frantically discussing dates and times and whatnot with my friend across the ocean.

Turns out, I couldn’t keep my December promise, for various reasons. Mainly because Turner wouldn’t be there, she and husband would be travelling for the holiday season. Such things happen when you’re living the life, man.

But that’s okay, we figured out that January is just as good, and slightly cheaper on the plane fare, too, so I’ll go in January instead, and spend 10 days in Morocco doing….Christ, I have no idea what we’ll be doing. I know that there will be food involved, lots of food (big surprise). And I have threatened to hop the first plane back to America if we can’t at least try to start some sort of revolution and overthrow…something. A picnic table at least. Conversely, I’ve also been informed by The Swede that if I don’t come home with some bottles of duty free booze, I shouldn’t bother coming home at all. But only if they’re good duty-free deals. (He and I have already had the discussion about how sometimes duty-free is not always a good deal, and how we will have to make sure we do a pricing trip to the local liquor stores to ensure I’m not getting hosed.)

If you’d like to place an order for flavored cigarettes, the hotline is open.

I can’t freaking wait.

*That’s the Kingdom of Morocco to you, sir. I said good day.


One Response to “to kingdom come”


  1. photo friday: taking off « - January 14, 2011

    […] Tonight I’ll board a plane and fly to Paris, board a different plane, and fly to Rabat. […]

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