Chapter 12. Visiting Jen and Dan in Texas.
I took six days off and flew home commercial, same route Jen took, via Madrid. In Austin at the airport I rented a car and drove to her place.
I stayed with Jen in her apartment and we drove down to the south side of Houston (165miles) to visit Daniel in his apartment (on day #2). It was an old place with small units, one bedroom, maybe 700sq ft.
Jen pounded on his door with the side of her fist, and you should have seen the look on Dan's face when he opened it! He had a moment of confusion, then grew a huge smile, then his chin started to quiver and his expression turned emotional. He raised one hand to cover his mouth as he stepped back, pushed the door wide open, and gestured for us to come in.
He immediately started to sob and walked us to his postage stamp size living room. He sat on the sofa and lowered his head and sobbed silently, Jen locked his front door. I sat beside Daniel and rubbed his back. Then I stood up and pushed my hands into his arm pits and lifted him up into me and we tightly held each other and rocked side to side, he cried into my shoulder for probably three minutes. Jen walked over and tried to fix his hair and she was kind of looking him over from head to toe, like a mother would do.
Eventually he stepped back from me, looked in my eyes and struggled to speak. His emotions were so ragged that saying anything was nearly impossible. The longer he cried the more hysterical he sounded. I began to wonder if our presence was actually hurting him. But finally he started to calm down and touched his forehead against mine and softly said, "I am so sorry." He stepped back and looked at both of us in the eyes, "You have no idea. I know I disappointed both of you. I beg your forgiveness." Jen moved closer and hugged Daniel tightly and whispered, 'It's all over, we completely forgive you.' Our little group of three best friends since childhood was finally reunited. I told him, "Actually, we've come to celebrate your resurrection."
Dan pulled back from Jen then leaned in and kissed her cheek and struggled to calm down. Jen and I sat on the sofa and Dan sat next to me and leaned over so his upper body was across my lap with the side of his head on her thigh. He needed more time to recover. I watched him wipe his eyes with his fingers and sniffle several times. Jen grabbed him several tissues from a box he had sitting out.
We sat there with him across our laps both of us rubbed his upper body, Jen ran her fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp, and it felt great to be together again, like three siblings reunited.
Eventually he got up and offered us drinks, all he had was coffee, frozen orange juice, and 7-Up. We both accepted the offer. He was so new to freedom that he sort of forgot how to cook for himself. My phone buzzed and it was a text, I asked Jen to read it.
"It's from Steven, he said my request is approved, proceed with the invitation. Stay out of trouble or else!"
Nobody but me knew what that meant, but it had to do with bringing Daniel to Morocco. The ambassador got permission for Dan to receive a temporary US passport.
Jen and I left after two hours with Dan, he said he was going to bed, tomorrow he was going to buy himself a pair of nice shoes and start jogging every day. He wanted to get back in shape.
As evidence that our relationship was on the mend while Jen was in the bathroom Daniel was beside me on the sofa, but he was all the way forward on the sofa cushion, I tugged his shirt out of his slacks and ran my hand up his back, then side to side on his bare flesh. When I heard the toilet flush I slid my hand around his flank and ran my fingers down the side of his chest so they slid over one of his tits then I pulled my hand out and straightened his shirt in back. Jen might still notice his shirt was suddenly untucked in back. We left a short time later.
We gathered inside his door, she leaned in and gently kissed him on the mouth and then she walked outside, then I kissed him on the mouth too and followed Jen. We waved and shouted good bye as we got in her car and drove off. Dan stood outside his apartment door waving and smiling as we left.
We drove back to her place, but on the way I explained I wanted to drive back to Houston tomorrow to check on some old friends at the Houston PD, I'd be gone all day tomorrow. I think she suspected I might secretly visit my mom or maybe some secret former girlfriend.
In the morning (of Day #3) I left before the sun and drove to San Antonio to check out the homes of the prison guards Dan video (on a hidden cell phone) recorded robbing inmates. It was 11:30am when I arrived in Cuero; the first house looked like nobody was home. The garage door was wide open, I saw the bow of a fishing boat on a trailer sticking out so I parked in the driveway and walked around back with a sheet of paper that had their names and drivers license photos. The back door was unlocked, but I had to move fast in case one of the neighbors called the cops. Inside the house I was easily able to determine that the guy lived with someone. I went around the house looking for things he would bring near his nose: his toothbrush, hair comb, box of tissues by the bed, computer keyboard and mouse, and bed pillow. I sprayed each one and left the house and drove to the address of the other prison guard, it was an apartment complex.
The target was a man that lived in a one bedroom apartment on the second floor. I knocked on the door but got no answer so I pounded harder and then heard footsteps inside. Slowly the door opened and a guy in his underwear that looked exactly like the guard (Dan identified) appeared at the cracked open door, the chain pulled tight. He (looked like he just woke up) wanted to know what I wanted, I told him I was with the prison guard union and he said there was no union. So I sprayed his nose at the door and left. I heard the guy swear as he un-chained the door and followed me in his underwear. I ran down the stairs but tripped and he caught me. We got in a struggle on the staircase. He landed a few punches but I kicked him hard in the gut and escaped his grip and ran to my car with broken sun glasses and drove away in the rental car, back toward Austin. I had one more stop to make, maybe two.
It's almost three hours from San Antonio back to Austin, it gave me time to heal and recover from getting punched hard in the face. I stopped at a gas station and got a Slurpy for ice on my face on the ride home, which helped, so did two extra-strength tylenol. I also bought a cheap pair of sun glasses.
Back in Austin I found the home of the lawyer that hid vital evidence that Dan was innocent. He (Cyril) was at work but his GF was home, so I had to come up with some way to get her to leave. While I was sitting in rental car down the block scheming I saw her leave the front door dressed in colorful jogging clothes so I immediately went back but the place was locked. The only window I could reach was also locked so I had to pick the patio door lock. It took three minutes on my knees and I finally got the cylinder to release and rotate, then I went inside. It was the same challenge as before: what were things only he handled that went near his nose or mouth that she was not likely to contact.
Usually my first choices were the toothbrush, hair brush, usually a bed pillow, but I couldn't tell at a glance which side was for which person. They looked pretty much the same on both sides. His hair brush was easy to tell from hers, they usually are.
I turned to leave their bedroom but something caught my eye. There were slippers on the floor on one side that had Cyril embroidered in the toes, so I heavily sprayed that pillow (and the sheets under it) and then left.
Thirty minutes later I parked in Jen's driveway and it was time for dinner, she looked upset that I was gone all day. I think she believed I visited my sister and was ashamed to tell her. I just replied with 'whatever.' I told her last night I was going to visit old friends at the Houston PD, because I wouldn't be where I am today without their encouragement.
We went out for dinner that night, it was late and both of us were really hungry. I think she probably assumed I'd have my tongue on her crotch all day, she took a week off work just for me and I was gone all day. I apologized and told her traffic was heavy and I haven't driven in two years... so maybe I went a little slow. She called me a liar and was cool the rest of the day, but we spooned that evening after showering together. Jen also commented that it looked like I got punched in the face, but I told her I fell on some steps, which was true, but she didn't believe that either. I offered to show her the scars on my knees and elbows but she didn't want to look.
Just before we got in the shower she reached down and grabbed my penis and slid her hand all over the outside then raised it to her nose, she said, "Just checking." I guess it was to see if it smelled like pussy, but it didn't of course I was riding in the car all day and I sprayed three bad ass mothers for my friend Daniel to help him recover. Each one of them stood a slim chance of recovering but the odds strongly were in favor of them dying next week. It's too bad I can't legally tell Jen what I did.
The next morning (Day #4) I was starved. We went out for breakfast at a Waffle House! I had coffee, and one of those egg-hash brown scramble things. I also got two slices of bacon but their bacon sucks because they're afraid to serve it any way but extra extra well. At home I cook my own bacon medium rare because I like it soft and chewy, not dry and crunchy.
That day we drove around the UTA campus to look at some of the buildings we had classes and our old dorms. Everything looked old and small. We saw kids with bright green hair, she said that was a sign that meant something political, and I suggested maybe far left leaning I thought the Green Party was Marxist but she was unsure. They might only be green because it was on sale. I laughed hard because I remembered how poor I was when we arrived on campus and I had something like $1600 to make last 'til May. $1600 over 9 months is $177 a month or $44 a week. Try living on $44 a week! I did it for two years and ate a lot of Ramen.
We stopped at a package store near campus where I went the day I turned 21 and demanded to get carded and the guy gave me a 6-pack of Coors free for my 21st birthday. I went inside and bought a 12-pack of Coors. I told Jen when I got back in the car that 12 ounce aluminum cans of beer do not exist in Morocco. Everything in Morocco came in returnable glass bottles, which I thought was an excellent idea and wished they'd reinstate that in the USA like it was in my grandparent's time.
We drove to her aunt's place and knocked on the door but there was no answer. She said her aunt (her mother's older sister) was 93 now and very deaf. So we left and drove to a BBQ place and got a large to-go package of pork ribs and pulled pork sandwiches with extra sauce, fries, and a big tub of their own coleslaw. We spent almost 90 bucks on food and then took it home and had to wait for dinner time, but I cheated and opened the coleslaw because I was super hungry.
She invited Dan over for dinner but he said he had work. He said he actually liked his turkey trimming job, it was very therapeutic. So we decided to dine early and nuked the ribs and tore into them at 4:30pm and had a feast fit for a king and queen! We chased everything with Coors and I got seconds and thirds on coleslaw, which emptied that container.
The next day (#5) was just the two of us and we spent most of it at home in our underwear. It was a day of adult pleasures and intimate conversation. We ate our pulled pork sandwiches and finished the leftovers from the pork BBQ place and I also gave her my special belly button cleaning service. I tried to do it in bed but she insisted on doing it with her naked and her legs wide apart, seated on the bathroom counter, she leaned back against the mirror so her stomach was nearly flat. She really likes to show me her crotch and I'm the only one that has examined her closely. She invited Dan over that evening for pizza and Blackjack. He showed up in a taxi with a box of Twinkies and a box of Suzy Q's gift wrapped in used newspaper pages. He said he came up on the train.
We spent the evening playing Blackjack, Jen and I had beers, Dan drank coffee. For a couple hours our conversation sounded exactly like it did when we were in college. I noticed Dan seemed to have mental difficulty when he tried to remember things from back in high school. We talked about money and sex but when it came to current world events he didn't know anything. It was weird listening to him talk; it was like his brain got zapped. I asked if he had any brain injuries in prison and he said yes, he got hit in the head a few times, it was unavoidable. He said he probably had two concussions. Jen looked at me with concern on her face.
That evening she invited him to sleep on the sofa so he stayed. She went to bed first and closed the door and then it was my turn in the bathroom, out of habit I left the door open. Dan came in and used the toilet while I was brushing my teeth and getting ready to use the shower. He stood beside me looking at himself in the mirror, I reached over and rubbed his butt cheek since he was only wearing plain white briefs. He never reacted so when I turned on the shower water and slipped off my undies and he was talking to me I reached over and pulled his elastic waistband way out to examine his boy parts but he ignored me completely, just like he did back in college.
"Looks the same. I see you trimmed." I muttered.
"Yah, I couldn't do it in prison." He softly spoke.
"I bet not." I muttered as I let go of his underwear waistband.
"Yep, after 2 years my virginity came back."
"I'm just glad you're okay and back at it again."
"I got a lot of stuff to get done." I got in the shower and stood enjoying the hot water for a minute or two.
Standing in the shower shampooing my hair I thought about Dan and how privately intimate we've been over the years, going back to 9th grade. I've blown him and swallowed at least twice. I wonder what our friendship might be like twenty years from now. He's got a long way to go to recover from what Texas did to him because of an evil prosecutor. But the guys that wronged Dan should all be six feet under soon. I hope in their final moments they considered what got them in the ICU with a case of severe bilateral pneumonia and sepsis.
We stood there in the bathroom, me naked and him in his white Haines briefs and I reached over and tweaked the head of his dick a few times while we talked and he never reacted, I think that is the closest I'll ever get to encouragement from him. He never really got hard but it grew a bit. I wanted to taste it so badly, but I had to get my shower.
He sat on the bathroom counter and we talked a little while I showered. When I got out he was sort of in the way so I had to put my hands on his chest and move him over a little so I could towel off.
During my shower he asked me, "So what brings you to Texas?"
"You."
"Me? You flew around the world just to see me?"
"I took care of three small tasks while I was here, things I couldn't do over the phone."
"I see." He said with a tone of disbelief. Then he added, "Sounds official." I think he meant it sounded like it had something to do with the State Department, but I didn't offer any other information, but if he listened closely I clearly said `three small tasks.' That was his only hint.
After I was dried off I patted his lower tummy and pushed my finger into his belly button and wiggled it around then I was done and gestured for us to leave, it was bedtime for all of us. It was nice that Jen gave us that time alone together.
The next morning Dan was first up, he got dressed, packed, and called for a taxi ride to the train station. He'd get home around 3pm.
Jen and I ate breakfast at Waffle House and then made love on the living room rug. We left in her car for the airport at 8:45am. This time our good bye in the airport was not as emotional, but we both got teary-eyed. My Delta flight to Atlanta lifted off at 11:01am.
My Delta flight to Madrid left Atlanta at 3:10pm. We landed in Madrid at 11:50pm (Atlanta time). I took the first train the next morning to Algeciras and walked in my apartment at 2:45pm the next day.
Despite feeling exhausted after a shower and change of clothes I rode the bus to my office and opened it but fell asleep at my desk. Nobody came in, and I slept (at my desk) until 8:45pm that night because I was really zonked from all the time changes and sitting on my ass for a couple days. I took the bus home and went to bed and slept all night.
It was almost three weeks before I got any email from Texas. Jen broke radio silence first. She said she just finished her second semester of adult Spanish and paid for year-two, both semesters. Year two used the same text book and teacher. She said she really liked the instructor, he was an old Cuban man named Juan. He and his wife owned a Cuban sandwich shop in Austin.
Oh crap! I just remembered to tell you that we've had bad luck texting lately. About 70% of the time their texts never arrive in Africa, that's why we use email. If we text our rule is we reply within 10 minutes or they send again a couple more times, then quit trying and fall back to email.
Dan said he's busy with stuff. He also said he saw an article online that the prosecutor for his case died recently of pneumonia and septicemia, he was 48 years old. He said it was the asshole that hid the evidence that his car had no damage from hitting a pedestrian or a bicycle. He also altered the coroner's report, it said the guy on the bike was drunk and smashed his skull on the curb after wrecking on a sewer cover a few minutes before Dan drove past. Dan got caught in a road block and failed a field sobriety test. As soon as they arrested someone the cops stopped investigating the case.
Dan continued, "And it was also in the news that two prison guards in south Texas died mysteriously of severe pneumonia." He said he was pretty sure they were the two guards that beat him and robbed prisoners of their hard earned money working in the prison furniture factory.
All I had to say was, "There must be some respiratory bug going around south Texas."
Dan said, "Yep sounds familiar don't it. You visit Texas and one week later all my enemies die of severe pneumonia. Must be somethin' goin' around."
We had a few moments of silence as both of us waited for each other to say something.
"Well if we're done I should go." I said.
Dan said, "Yah, it's always great to talk to you brother. Remember when we adopted each other as blood brothers?"
"Yes, and I still honor that promise." I said trying to sound serious but not upset.
Dan's response surprised me, "When I give someone my word there isn't much more serious to me."
We had a few moments of silence then he said, "Love you brother."
I replied with "Same here love you bro."
The call was silently disconnected. I got emotional after we got off the phone and wept a little thinking about the serious bad shit that fell upon my friend. When we were in college I started feeling his pain, I never told him that. When he got busted I severed those links with Dan but now that he is coming back I have allowed my soul to get connected to his again. Even from halfway around the globe I can still sometimes feel if he is in pain or fear. I don't have that with Jen but I've had it with Dan since 9th grade. I don't recall telling him and if I did I bet he thought I was kidding.
Three days later I got an email from Dan. He said he was having a hard time getting his driver's license un-suspended by the State of Texas. He's been trying to get two different government departments to call each other but they can't or won't. Dan ended up hiring the same attorney again and had him make some calls and got the problem solved for $300 bucks. And then his driver's license privilege was un-suspended, but he had to take the written test. His suspension was based on a felony conviction for hitting and killing a pedestrian while driving intoxicated, but with a simple DUI, first conviction, his license would only be suspended for one year, which ended almost 18 months ago.
Two weeks later he took the license test and passed. He got his new license in the mail six days later. He said it felt like paying the cartels to buy some rights back.
Oh, I just remembered to tell you. We learned something kind of sad but interesting about the guy he supposedly hit. The best they could nail down the exact time line was it was raining heavily at the time the guy cracked his skull on the curb. In fact the poor visibility was probably the actual cause of his death. He crashed and instantly died on the dirt on the side of the road. He was probably there for nearly five minutes but nobody saw the body. Someone a few cars behind Dan saw it and called 911 and they immediately set up the sobriety check point 3 miles down the road, at night, in the dark, no street lights, and Dan's breath smelled like alcohol so he was field tested and breath tested and arrested for hitting the bicyclist.
The next problem Dan had was since he was just released from prison his insurance rates were as high as a 16 year old that was arrested for DUI and also caused a serious wreck with a fatality. With my help he used the alternative method of insurance and posted a cash bond with the state and insured himself in cash. But the bond he made was the equivalent of PLPD, or minimum coverage. That meant no fancy car or motorcycle. He bought a 12 year old Toyota Tacoma instead of a nice new car. Remember, he has well over one 1.5 mil in the bank. At least he was getting interest on the insurance bond money.
Within 5 months of my Texas visit Jen already mentioned coming to Tangier again. She said she wanted to layover in Madrid to tour her employer's offices and the city too. I told her the traffic went in the same direction as the USA.
During those months my life was routine and very pleasant. I located five jailbirds using the new tracking app, they were a group of escaped prisoners hiding in Tangier, and they were taken into custody by local cops. I had little to do with the actual arrests other than locating them and pointing them out to the local cops. The escapees rented a storefront eatery and ran it like an extended family, so they went to jail together too. I think there was a small reward for them so I applied but don't expect to hear from Greece because last I heard they were still broke.
I read that back in Greece the five men were in jail for ripping off tourists using a fishing charter scam. They hung out in harbors in the evening when the charter fishing boat operators were all at home. They picked a nice looking boat and sat on stolen lawn chairs on the pier and when tourists came to the harbor looking to hire a boat for the next day they accepted cash payments, wrote receipts and told them to arrive at 5am sharp, and all the gear they needed would be provided to catch swordfish or blue fin tuna. I thought it would be like standing on the Golden Gate Bridge and trying to sell it to unsuspecting tourists because California couldn't afford the maintenance any more. But the scam worked until they tried to scam a vacationing local cop. People like that should not be running a food business, except maybe in prison.
Over the weeks since he got his freedom back Daniel sounded like he was slowly on the mend. That false conviction really did horrible damage to his soul but I think he is on the mend. Dan and Jen started getting together for lunch once a month in Austin, she said he actually seemed happy sometimes now. She said he also started going back to AA meetings for the group therapy and the ability to talk to other people that had their lives devastated by a conviction or wrongful conviction. Dan said he sees it in people's eyes when he tells his story; it looks like people refuse to believe he never hit anyone since he was convicted in a courtroom. She told him he should consider leaving Texas someday just to start over with a clean slate. Dan said he'd love to have his old job with State back but she told him he was banned from government employment because of his DUI - that was a legit conviction.
Dan told her he decided to write a book about what Texas did to him but it was going to be done in his spare time. She told him not to include the part about the three guys who all died of severe pneumonia on the same day.
Last weekend I took the bus down to Tetouan and rented the Cessna 172 and the Citation for half an hour each, but that time does not include pre-flight checks. This was required by State so it was a reimbursed expense.
Since my use was local and the airspace was relatively empty of other aircraft I walked into the control tower to tell them my route. I was going to leave the airport and fly east out over water then fly around the perimeter of the Strait at 2000 feet and land again and return the plane, then pre-flight the jet. But the jet moves really fast so I was going to fly southwest to Marrakech and see that city and the surrounding mountains then back to Tetouan and land. The loop I made with the 172 took me over my neighborhood, so I took pictures with my camera.
In the apartment complex where I live there are almost no kids, but I finally saw one. He was a skinny short boy about 13 years old. He spoke Arabic like his parents, but also had a decent vocabulary with English and French but he mispronounced lots of words. We kept bumping into each other on the roof of the building (and at Kmart), like me he enjoyed sunbathing on the roof patio in shorts. And like me he is super skinny but he said he cannot gain weight. I suspect he also goes to the roof for some privacy, if you know what I mean. One day while we were on the roof talking a small airplane flew low overhead and he said he'd never flown, I told him I was a pilot and I fly regularly.
I offered to take him on one of my flights and he asked me to come inside and meet his parents, but only his mother was home. We recognized each other from the Kmart down the street. We had a good introduction; I learned the boy was named Maleet. He was a straight-A student in public school and wanted to go to college. I was honest with them that I worked for US State Dept., and his parents had no ill-feelings toward that. And she said her son had never been in an airplane before. I told her I'd keep a bag handy but maybe he should fly on an empty stomach. So on my next touch and goes Maleet rode with me in the taxi to Tetouan and I showed him how to pre-flight a 172. I also gave him a short explanation how a plane is able to fly and some of the electronics on board. He said he never heard the story of the Wright Brothers before.
When we were racing down the runway in the 172 he had a death grip on the arm rests and sat there with his eyes tightly shut until we lifted off the pavement and he looked out the window and way down below us he saw Gibraltar. I told him the jet moved much faster and was much bigger and powerful. When he asked how fast we were going I told him about 110mph and he was amazed.
I made my turns and flew a straight line toward the airport and this time he leaned against the door and watched the plane getting closer and closer to the ground. When we landed and parked the plane, he got out and dry heaved a few times on the tarmac. I stood by him and patted his bony back and shoulders. He stood up and wiped his mouth and smiled and said his first flight was totally awesome. I think that was the only time I actually touched the boy. Sometimes with Muslims you need to be cautious even about casual touch. But if he was lying out on the patio only wearing shorts it sort of meant they were not orthodox Muslims, but more liberal or maybe non-practicing.
Just like the 172 we did the (cold start) pre-flight checklist on the jet. I showed him the book and read and pointed to the text so he might learn new words in English. It took over an hour and we had the Citation inspected in 70 minutes. This time he held an air sickness bag on his lap. For this flight he sat in the co-pilot seat with the headset on and he had a dorky expression of excitement plastered across his face. I thought if he smiled any harder his skull might crack!
We took off east-bound at Tetouan and flew out over the water then began a climbing turn to the right to go over the Atlas Mountains and once we reached 5000 feet we set a course for Marrakech and locked it into the auto pilot, then I let go of the wheel and pedals and the plane flew us at 450mph over miles of farmland and desert.
Maleet spent the entire time with his cheek or nose touching the cockpit side window and was constantly pointing out things he saw on the ground. Once we passed over the city I set a new course back to Tetouan and the auto pilot took us home. He saw the large car manufacturing plant south of Tangier and shouted when he saw it and said his father worked there. We were only gone for 39 minutes.
When we got near the coast I turned off autopilot and flew over Tangier and he actually saw our apartment building from 2000 feet up. Then we landed at Tetouan and parked the jet. On the second flight he never got sick and was truly amazed with flying. Now the young boy had something to tell his friends in school and remember for the rest of his life.
Because of the time we took the train home from Tetouan. It cost more than a taxi but it gave us time to discuss airplanes. The train station in Tangier is on the southeast side, not too far from where we lived, but it was still a long walk in the hot sun. The walk home from the train station is about a mile, but it's a long mile with almost no shade. When we crossed the boulevard into the apartment complex he waved and took off running toward the elevator. I laughed quietly, the boy was obviously excited and wanted to tell his family that he saw their home from the sky. It was highly possible he was the only person in his family to fly in a plane. I pictured him standing up in class in school and describing both planes and both flights, but not about how he barfed.
A week later I came home from the office and found a large piece of construction paper taped to my apartment door. I took it inside and saw it was a hand painted, water color representation of me and Maleet standing beside the Citation, my arm over his shoulder and both of us smiling broadly. The boy was much darker than me but he never colored himself. He did a pencil sketch then water colored-in the spaces and shapes. His outline of the Citation was very accurate and he had the window count in the passenger compartment correct so I think he looked it up online. He never signed his artwork so the next time he knocks on my door I will ask him to autograph and date it. I taped it to the wall in my living room, my first piece of original artwork.
The biggest image in his drawing was the jet. Behind it he drew the Atlas Mountains and the cloudless sky and baking sun. There was not a single tree to be seen, no minarets, and no other planes. But he did include some of the nearby hangars in the background. Most of the ground was black I guess to represent the tarmac and runways. There are two runways at Tetouan but only one is open for traffic. It's hard to tell if the other one is being removed or being built. Many times new construction in Morocco is like that, you cannot tell at a glance if it's being built or torn down.
When you fly out of Tetouan it's about three miles east until you fly out over the sea. That beach area is very different from Tangier because it's a very long public beach with hundreds of rental umbrellas and picnic spots. But the water is still icy and the sharks are there too, so almost nobody gets in the water unless there is a safety patrol on duty. I suspect there is no Mod Squad in those beach communities, yet.
You can see the beach yourself, search on gmaps for: 'Suites Hotel Omeya,' in Martil, Morocco. We fly over it every time we use the Citation because the runway is just west of the beach. It's too bad the water is so cold and the beach is so beautiful. I heard there is a local company experimenting with a sonic shark alarm for that beach. It's a series of buoys that are anchored in place in eight foot deep water. They repel sharks and alerts swimmers when it senses any large fish. It actually alerts and repels any fish over 20 inches long, the more the fish weighs the more they feel the repellant sonar/electrical pulse. This suggests a possible business: robotic underwater shark chasers. A Seal shaped robot that locates sharks and harasses them into leaving a particular area, like beaches. Wouldn't that be a surprise, the day the shark went after the seal but it turned and attacked the shark!
One of the shark repellant buoys they're testing uses electricity and zaps the water when it detects a large fish so it has to be placed further out. The design dilemma is at what point the shock repels sharks more than the attractive noise in the water attracts them. Some beaches have employed nets, one beach in Gibraltar built seawalls out of rock to serve as a physical barrier but that method is very expensive. You can see that beach on gmaps on the east side of the peninsula.
People mis-understand sharks thinking they need to be like 15 feet long to be dangerous but most shark bites in the world come from small ones, like three feet long. Usually, if a shark bites a human it's a mistake because we are not their natural food. So for God's sake when you're in the water stop looking edible!
It is kind of sad in that entire area to see all those gorgeous beaches with thousands of beachgoers and nobody is in the water deeper than their ankles.
Two weeks later I got an email from Jen with proposed dates for her next trip, this time she wanted to come for six nights instead of five like all her previous trips. Her trip dates were in three months, so I applied for PTO and scheduled the Tangier office closed and posted a note on the door. This time she was coming during the rainy season, in early April, 2019. She said she wanted to rent a car this time and we should drive into Spain and go visit Octavio and his grandkids at the vineyard. I thought that was a great idea but suppose Octavio might take our visit the wrong way, like as if was an official state visit. I wasn't sure if my Spanish was good enough to explain our visit was not official.
Jen also emailed me a link to a video online for teaching Americans how to drive in Arabic countries, how to understand basic road signs, and insurance and social guidelines for drivers. I thought it was an interesting 25 minute video, stuff I never heard before, and I live in Tangier! But I still think many Aspies should not be driving, regardless, including me. Some can, I probably shouldn't in Morocco, but at home I do okay.
Jen clarified later that her idea about renting a car would be in Spain, not in Morocco.
Jen also emailed me a photo of her taken in her apartment out on the balcony. She never told me who took the photo but she was on her back on a beach recliner in a two-piece with her tummy on full display. She knows that gets me hot. But the camera was probably about 10 feet away and the shot was taken from a low angle so all I could see was her ultra-smooth belly and the edges of the hole, plus the outline of her breasts were clearly visible. I emailed asking who took it but she never told me. I suppose it's possible it was taken by her cell on a timer.
So I got the idea to take the same type photo of myself, an R-rated selfie, maybe in the bathroom or asleep on the sofa. I experimented with functions on my cell and found a delay timer and set it for five minutes, then stripped naked and got a small pillow to put in front of my crotch so the shot wasn't pornographic, but the rest of me was naked and semi-on my side, leaned against the back of the sofa. I heard it shoot and got myself totally relaxed and messed up my hair too. When I checked it the image showed almost my entire body except my actual penis and nuts but it did show my crew-cut pubes. I nearly texted it to her but I chickened out.
I sat there staring at my image on the cell and decided to transfer it to the computer so I could see it on the bigger screen. I still look like a kid below the neck, which kind of saddens me. But Jen seems to find me attractive. It got me wondering if there was a legal app for Muslim countries where guys could flirt with other guys. So I did some searches for online dating sites where men could search for men and found two in Arabic with the option to switch to Spanish.
I paid for the cheapest account, $5 Euros for one month to test the app. I used the sofa photo and wrote my teaser:
34 year old bilingual man from the US living in Tangier seeking similar size man for friendship. Let's have drinks and pizza and see if we click. I am single-Bi, Caucasian, drug-disease free, 5'10" 160lbs, brown-brown, smooth, slender, versatile-oral-cut, and I love being outdoors. I speak English, Spanish, and a little French. I'm not interested in a single-hit quickie, looking for a relationship and maybe we'll mesh. I love to give erotic hot oil massage.
I clicked on POST and that was it, time to wait see what happens. I honestly didn't expect to get any replies. But my biggest worry is that sodomy is a crime in Morocco, how could I make certain the guy that responded to my profile wasn't some kind of vice cop. I've heard that in some cases for a sodomy conviction here the convicted usually survive a couple months in prison before they suffer a violent death.
One thing I wanted to explain to you about Jen coming to Morocco to visit, she has to schedule her vacations around the product cycles where she works. They issue updates on all their software on a schedule and her part has a deadline so they can print new manuals and packaging in 9 languages. Once they go to the printer she is able to take time off. I can't remember the name of the company she works for because it's some guy's last name and it's not an American English type name.
The dating app got me thinking about relationships and how much easier it was being with guys doing guy things. We seemed to enjoy the same types of things. Guys are so much less complicated and moody. Maybe that is why I feel so happy with Jen because she's still a Tomboy inside which makes her easy to be with. If she asked me, "Do these jeans make my ass look big?" and I said yes, she would not spend the next year planning her revenge, she'd try on another pair and ask again until she found one that I liked. I still think Jen might be somewhat Aspie too, because like me she is usually very concrete and literal. When I've suggested she get screened for Asperger's or ASD in the past she just ignored me. Your average adult on Planet Earth has no clue what: 'concrete and literal' means, Jen does but not 100%. I'm still learning myself!
Basically, it means that what you say is exactly what you mean, and what you hear and see is exactly as it appeared. There is no innuendo or metaphor until someone else points it out. Concrete people are the ones that don't realize something someone said was a joke because they heard it literally. They have very little flexibility in how they interpret the world around them.
Ten days went by, as expected I got no responses to my profile so I stopped waiting for the app to buzz. The holidays came and went again; I loved the near absence of Christmas commercialism here in Morocco. I am of course referring to the retail part of Christmas: Santa Clause, decorated trees, cards in the mail, gift giving, wrapping paper, songs on PA systems in stores, and blinking lights. None of that stuff has anything to do with the birth of Jesus, and nobody knows for sure when he really was born anyway. The December 25th thing is an old sun worship holiday.
In the ancient Roman Catholic Church there were two groups arguing over when Jesus was born, they adopted famous symbols to represent their beliefs. One group adopted the Southern Cross, the other adopted the fish because those two represented parts of constellations that were in a particular location at the time they say the infant was born. And that is why today the fish and the cross are major symbols of Christianity. That is why a Bishop's hat is the head of a fish.
I worked the 24th of December and got visited by two older American couples, their stories were similar. I spent the day in my tiny store-front office. The entire storefront is glass. The shop itself is about 12x12 and I have one desk, my Dell laptop, and some chairs and a small sofa. It's almost like a small living room with a desk and a land line fax-phone.
Outside my office is a small market area with local people selling sliced fruit from wheeled carts. There are stores on either side of me, one of them is a very well known leather goods shop. I think this office was part of their space but they sectioned it off and rented it out. I heard they now own the entire building now, the upper floors are used for manufacturing. I swear I can hear those big strong leather sewing machines that run into the night.
At 9am a boy stops by for my food order, I think in Arabic they call him Runner (in Arabic it sounds like: hi DAH on). He runs around collecting orders, money, and delivering food from local shops and keeps the change for himself. Believe it or not, there are a lot of Greeks here and they have the best food shops. One of them serves everything on the menu Tempura fried so that's usually what I get, with dipping sauces. It's their dipping sauces that make them highly successful.
I usually order the special of the day which is usually strips of meat (lamb, chicken, or beef) and some locally grown produce, all tempura fried and served with house made sauces on the side. Most people eat with chopsticks, I have my own pair of stainless steel chopsticks I keep at work. I've applied to join their family group, which is a service similar to the Indian Dabbawala service.
With this one Greek deli you buy into the service and purchase a Dabbawala dish set. You pay a fixed price and get a hot lunch delivered daily at about the same time. When you are done you leave the used dish set near the door and an hour later a boy comes by and returns it to the deli where it is cleaned and stored until the next day. They deliver five lunches a week, all month, for $1100 a year. But there is no service on Fridays and Sundays.
The Dabbawala dish set assembles to form a chrome steel cylinder that securely clamps shut, watertight. It is a multi-tier dish set that circulates steam to keep food hot. It allows for foods like soup, rice, entrees, and dessert to be carried and not mixed or spilled. The inside volume is similar to a plastic 2L bottle of soda. In America is resembles some kind of high dollar stainless camping cook-set.
Here in Tangier the kid pushes open the door and sets it on the floor just inside the entrance about the same time every day. If the door is locked he returns it to the deli and the food is given to the elderly poor.
So this older American couple walked in as I was finishing my lunch of tempura fried asparagus, beef strips (sort of like beef fajita) and bell pepper strips also tempura fried. I think the beef was skirt steak that was marinated first. I wiped my mouth and drank the rest of my coffee as they took seats on the other side of my desk.
Contact the author: borischenaz at mailfence
If you are enjoying this story you may also like another similar book on Nifty titled: Response Team. That book is located in the Gay Adult-Friends section of the archive. The story is dated: Sept 2, 2023. Other books on the archive are: Crossing Panama, Raising Crow, Playing with Fire.
If you are a fan of large dogs, the book Raising Crow is about a boy and his Great Dane puppy. (Dec 16, 2022) Location: Amarillo, Texas.
Playing with Fire is set north of Chicago and follows the life of a young registered nurse working in a burn unit. (May 19, 2022) Location: Wilmette and Evanston, Illinois.
Crossing Panama follows the life of an (autistic) attorney in Florida who flees the state to save his life from ending at the hands of organized crime in Miami, he sails his yacht from Florida to Los Angeles and meets several interesting people along the way. (Jan 1, 2022).
All of these are action/adventure/romance/revenge fictional stories. None of them should be read by sensitive or easily offended readers.