Pot Cookies and Public Intoxication

We moved into an apartment in the medina overlooking the ocean. The tempestuous wind relaxed into a balmy breeze. The sea stopped churning. And the sun shone. Finally. Our vacation with the Greens was just beginning to turn around. Just as Craig started his 9 hour trek home. First by bus. Then by train.

We started at the tide pools. But to get to them we had to cross the cesspool of human waste on the outskirts. As well as the drunkards and druggies lazing around the periphery.   Not to mention the residual shards of glass from broken beer bottles scattered on the rocks. The kids are wearing their flip flops to optimize their brush with danger and ringworm. 

But we're all missing someone. But none of us more than Mark.

 

He's looking pensive.

After hearing far too much of two women talking about menstruation and jewelry, I think he's the one missing Craig the most on this trip.

Somewhere after that and before the next adventure we're offered cookies by a young man in the square. The kids are eager. Immediately Ember zones in on the one laced with pot. Hopefully she'll use those powers for good one day.   Like working for the DEA as drug sniffing dog or something.  But today we'll pay cash for the treats without hash.

We decide to ride camels on the beach. And I saw my first blonde blue eyed camel.    I would love to tell you more about them, but I won't click on any of the google  results I got using the search terms "blonde blue-eyed camels". Because this post is not called Pot Cookies, Public Intoxication and Porn.

We rode them up the beach.

And back down.

Before parting ways and hiking to the ruins of the Sultan.

It was on the walk back down the beach and into town that Faith spotted him. He was drunk loitering and teetering on the board walk. Faith and I were next up to be the sufferers of his belligerence. He approached, ranted in English before he threw down the f-bomb in front of our kids following closely behind us. We asked him to leave. He didn't. So without thinking I stepped up into his face and said, "I will fuck you up." (Insert cool gangsta hand gesture here.) Then, he fled for his life. Cause I'm that intimidating. Ok, there was no cool hand gesture and the miscreant only fled after Mark caught up with us and finally scared him off. Pfffffff...I could have taken him though. He did make sure to tell Mark I needed to be taught a lesson before he left.

I think there's only one thing two girls can do after something like that happens.



Go shopping for some really funky jewelry.  

Something antique, big and clunky that would really fuck a guy up if I punched him in the face with it. While he's trying to guess what animal shadow I'm making with my hand of course. That my friends was the valuable lesson I learned that day.