Marrakech. My 1st Birthday, 2016. Part 1.

After 6 years of creating sweet memories on or around my birthday I find myself longing for your companionship.

What the fuck is wrong with me? You hurt me so deeply. Yet, here I am. Being human and having feelings most guys don’t ever like to share or talk about. 

I need that Ace auto pilot reactivated. Extravagant. Indulgent. Mischievous, naughty even. Why not Morocco? I remember my father speak fondly and that I should go one day. Let’s do it.

Ok. So very few people can jump on a plan like this last minute. And a few friends who had a little less than last minute notice cancelled. Solo trip? I’m committed to going. No. One brother heeds the call. I’m thankful for the company.

I can’t remember whose idea it was to drink all night, end up at a strip club and then rush home, pack, and rush to the airport, tempo set, but yeah. We missed our flight. Airport hotel it is for a few hours until the next one. First flight I’ve ever missed. Her punctuality is a quickly fading thought in an ocean of blurs and bumps from the night.

Having made a good contact, myself and Mic were picked up VIP in a Range Rover Evoque. Crisp tangerine orange body paint on metallic black 20s. We like. 

The apartment is alright. For a last minute booking it’s a 2 bedroom that does the job. Clean rooms and bathrooms and a large sitting room. You can’t bring girls back to the hotels in Marrakech. This works.

Our first night will set the bar for the next few days. We go to a nice restaurant for some amazing Arabic food and live entertainment. Full disclosure I don’t remember a lot of names to the places we went. Tarek, my VIP contact had everything on point though. 

Next stop; 555 club. What an experience! The girls are smoking hot! French Africans with Arab elements! And their faces. Gorgeous. Truly beautifully breath taking. We get a table. My boy only drinks Jaeger bombs, mixed as a drink (wtf right!) And we get a bottle of bubbles and Black Label. Standard.

As we enjoy the music and our night we make a connection to a few hotties who join us. We’re thankful they speak English as neither of us speak Arabic or French. And then she asked me; “Do you want to take a picture with my midget?” Yes. Yes I do. “Do you want to hold him?” No, not really, haha. And he even hung out with us for a bit after and had a drink.

It’s gonna be a great birthday weekend.

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