Humiliation and Other Funny Stories

So I landed in Casablanca around 11:00 on Friday morning. After winding my way through customs I went to find my luggage. Having four bags, I tried to find a luggage cart and much to my dismay, I could not find one. I find one piece of luggage and am standing there waiting for the second one. 

A bit off topic, but I have to mention the biggest pet peeve of someone who has been in and out of airports all week: Why in the hell does everyone have to stand RIGHT NEXT TO THE BELT?  Why do you pull your luggage off and place it RIGHT NEXT TO THE BELT? Do people realize they are not the only ones desperately searching for their luggage? If everyone stood back and placed their luggage back behind them, everyone would be able to get to the belt and get their luggage, but NOOOOOOO we all have to come first. Stupid human nature. 

Anyways, I eventually find an abandoned cart and pack it with my luggage, only to find out why the cart is abandoned: it is broken. "Well, it's better than nothing..." I thought to myself as I pushed the damn thing through the airport and cursed in my head the entire time. So I get to the exit of the Mohammed V Airport and walk into the balmy heat, continuing to push this monstrosity. I see a bunch of people with signs and I keep praying that one is mine. After walking past the exit to another entrance, I take a quick break and decide to go back and see if I was wrong. I find my driver (!!!) and we are in the car and on our way to Ifrane in just a few minutes. Three and a half hours later, I am picking up the key to my apartment, with the interim housing guy showing me where everything is. 

My apartment is really nice. It's spacious, with vaulted wooden ceilings, a (non-functioning) fireplace with a modest mantle, a gas stovetop, an electric oven, just pretty basic stuff. The best part is the view and these beautiful, tall, wooden windows that hinge inward so when I open them I feel like all of those princesses from the movies who whips the windows open and start singing about how their life is looking up. The only problem? Like my small dorm in Prague, these windows have no screens. 

For anyone who knows me, I cannot live without a decent airflow, especially in warm weather. Which brings me to the dilemma. Air or bugs. Well, I made the decision and I chose air. That means that I have had a plethora or random flying things coming in and out of my apartment over the last 36 hours. I have more or less convinced myself that it is fine and I can handle it and this is just another thing I will have to adjust to that is just different than my life in Massachusetts. So the windows have stayed open. Now comes the humiliation and other funny stories part to explain what a terrible idea this is.  

Years ago, when I was still a teenager and living at my parents house, I had the room that attached directly to the fire escape. My bed was placed in a corner right next to that window. One night, I woke up in the middle of the night and was frozen in fear. This was not your average wake-up, this was an, "Did I hear something?" kind of a wake up. So I lay there, paralyzed in terror as I hear the fire escape jingling. I have this little thing I like to call Nightmare Brain, where my brain can drum up the scariest and most outlandish scenarios for almost anything that my five senses pick up. So on this night, I hear the rattling of the fire escape and immediately assume, "Someone is trying to break into the house from the fire escape and is going to come right through the screen in my window. The rattling seems to be getting closer and now I can hear something on the actual landing of the fire escape. I decide I am going to see what is going on and try to prepare myself for the oncoming battle (looking back I don't know why I didn't grab a weapon first, leading me to believe that if I was in a horror movie I would die early on, contrary to my prior predictions). I flip onto my side and wrap my fingers on the edge of my curtains. I slowly start to move them back and suddenly...there is a raccoon, his claws wrapped into the screen on my window staring me directly in the face and in complete shock I fall backwards into my bed, hitting my head on the wall. Needless to say, the little guy was just curious and after me fumbling to get back up, he was back off into the night looking for something to eat, I guess. This story is to explain how jumpy I am, in order to properly explain why air was not the best choice. 

So cut back to Morocco and it is Saturday.  I slept until about 10:30 and am still feeling the effects of jet lag, although I gave myself the weekend to not stress about it. So I puttered around the apartment, made myself some pasta, drank some tea, kept unpacking my luggage, and tried in general to be productive. Due to the fact that I was traveling for a while before I left the states, I decided it may be a good idea to wash my socks and underthings. Not knowing where a laundry facility is and because I didn't really care to be venturing, I decide I'll just wash them in my bathroom sink (a success, I might add...and free!). So when I was done with that I hang them on every surface I can and leave them to dry. Cut to about 21:30 and I go into my little bathroom to check how everything is drying. I pick one of my underthings up to re-hang it, and something falls onto my chest. Confused, I think to myself, "Did a piece of material just fall off of this thing?" as I look down at the dark shape on my chest. My eyes focus and I see...IT'S A GIANT FREAKIN' MOTH.  Like the biggest moth anyone has ever seen! Like Mothra took the day off from fighting Godziilla and decided to drop by for a visit and have some tea! The only thing better is my response to my realization. My response was to wave my underthing violently in the air while my other arm acted like some kind of ridiculous propeller and run while scream/grunting down my hallway. By the time I got to the end of the hall and stopped flailing wildly, I was nearly hyperventilating...and I was also laughing so hard at my ridiculous self that I was just walking around in circles. If someone didn't know me, they would have thought I was having a nervous breakdown, but instead I was laughing at myself and my crazy reaction to a moth. They are seriously harmless but for some reason being snuck up on like that really freaked me out. Even right now, there are a collection of moths hanging out around my living room light, and I'm like, "It's cool dudes! You stay near your couch and I'll stay on mine. As long as you leave me alone, we're totally fine."

I had to write this story, and most people do not understand why I have consistently done this throughout my life, but I always have to tell my embarrassing stories. When something ridiculous happens, it needs to be shared. Why? Because why would I deprive the world of a good laugh just so my ego doesn't take a hit? Even with the crazy, embarrassing stories my ego is completely intact. There was the time I was on a date and did the running man in heels and twisted my ankle. The time I did the running man in the hallway in front of a student, lost traction, and flat out fell in front of him (I also do the running man...a lot...). The time recently where I was at a wedding and a girl pulled the chair out from behind me slowly, thinking I had seen it, and I had not and blatantly fell in front of a dozen people. Even better was how concerned all the people were while I was just sitting on the ground laughing hysterically. The multiple times I walked into a post at my old school because even after 6 years I always forgot that it was there. The numerous times I've fallen up or down stairs. The first time someone saw me fall in slow motion and was mesmerized because they'd never witnessed anything like it. Everytime I tripped over my own feet, or twisted my ankle because the sidewalk was uneven. The time I stopped and the bike I was riding was a bit too big and I fell down a hill. Those are just off the top of my head, but I have hundreds of stories of moments like that. Each and every one of them ends the same way. Me laughing hysterically at how ridiculous I can be. Mothra was no different. 

It was a good moment though because it reminded me that no matter where I reside, I am still me. I will still flail when bugs touch me and then have a conversation with them ("Come on dude! You can hang out just don't touch me!"). I will still share my embarrassment with the world because I think it's fun. I will still fall constantly and laugh like a maniac when it happens because it's funny as hell to me. More importantly, I will continue to be me and will continue trying to grow and adjust to this interesting cultural shift. Until then, Mothra and I have a teaparty to attend to.