Leaving Exotic Morocco

Very early on the last morning of our very exotic vaycay, as the sound of prayer called through the ancient walls, the rumbling call of my stomach was waking me up and telling me to make a run for the bathroom! And at 4:30 in the morning, as Andy packed for our 7:50 flight, I basically began to die on the bathroom floor. All I could think was, “Oh my God I don’t want to stay in Morocco! I MUST pick myself up!” As Andy checked out of the hotel I crawled to my suitcase and slowly threw on a dress, trying not to move too suddenly or my head would be back to being submerged down the toilet!

By the grace of God I got myself dressed and made my way down the stairs where the cab we ordered the night before would be waiting for us. I knew all I had to do was control that nauseated feeling and try not to think too much about needing a bathroom because I unfortunately did not have my adult diaper on! When we made it outside the hotel, in true Moroccan style, the cab was a no show and we had to take one more walk down the unforgettably smelly streets. I didn’t know how I was going to do it. My face was turning greener with every step we took and it was only a matter of time until all my bodily functions gave up on me! Right as I was about to give up and let it all go, my fabulous husband flagged down a cab, put me in, rolled down my window, as he pitied me all the way to the airport. And somehow I made it.

Andy pretty much dragged me out of the cab, through the airport entrance, and plopped me on the floor on top of our luggage as we waited in the line to check into our flight. Right as I thought I was in the clear and my wave of Moroccan fever was beginning to pass, my stomach lurched sending me running through the airport to the nearest trashcan. I made it to the clear plastic trash bag just in time to hurl up the remaining couscous still stuck inside me. I could feel all the eyes staring at me thanking God it wasn’t them. Thanking God they did not have the African bug! And while my head was in the trash and my body was trying to dispose of this third world stomach flu, a French lady stopped next me, said something in French and handed me her dirty tissue and half drunk bottle of water. I would like to think this was a kind gesture and not a woman handing me her trash to throw away since the can was currently occupied but who really knows… It was Morocco after all!