I really wanted the start of my Morocco blog to be in Morocco. But seeing as how that process has been delayed and I feel it warrants some explanation: I will begin my travel stories with travel nightmares. This is the shit they don't talk about in your Lonely Planet travel guides. First, let me just say that I started off this day more prepared than I ever have been for a trip. I had everything on the famous Lily Dobson's packing list, I had spent the past week making daily lists with my sister of things to do to prepare to leave, I'd been doing a lot of nothing but waiting to leave since Thanksgiving, and I have spent the last two plus years of my life researching, applying, planning, waiting, and dreaming for this day when I would study abroad where they speak Arabic, traveling on my own to learn about a culture and language I love. Anyway I'm pretty ready to go. So I walk up to the check-in, a little over two hours before my flight is supposed to leave, just like you're supposed to for an international flight. Yes, my checked bag is a little overweight, so I take a few things out, my bad, and then promise the friendly United worker I'll say hi to Bogie for him. Then I'm waved over by the woman inspecting my passport and the following dialogue takes place:
Nameless woman who I would hit with my car if I could remember what she looked like: "Do you have a visa?"
me: "No, for stays of 90 days you don't need a visa"
NW: "yes, but 90 days would bring you back on May 23. your return flight is booked for May 28."
me: I don't know why, but I don't need a visa.
NW: you are going to have to enter that line and re-book your return ticket or you'll get to paris and they wont let you on the plane.
me (inner monologue): I am not an idiot. I swear I'm not an idiot.
So my blessed sister says it will be ok, and we start making frantic calls. Everyone should mail Andrew Harris Christmas cards. And even though the Denver airport lied about their free wireless, I found out that- No stupid idiot woman from United I don't need a visa, I apply for a student residency card with the University once I get there. So I'm sorry that knowledge was not at the top of my head but ok. So I stay in the line specially designed by Satan to move slower than tectonic plates to make sure I am checked in because I'm pretty sure I just watched my bag go on the track to Chicago. I get my ticket, it's ok I go through security, I get to my gate and with time to spare I board the plane that will take me from Denver to Chicago, where I will meet all my best new friends from the University of Minnesota and travel on to Paris and then Casablanca together. As I'm about to climb into my seat I hear over the speaker, "Ladies and Gentlemen, due to air traffick because of weather our flight will be delayed an hour. If you want to exit the plane you can or you can stay seated" Well, pardon my french, but I'm not in Paris so, fuck. I only started off with an hour layover in Chicago so my flight is scheduled to leave just as this one lands. Although the stewardess advised me to stay in Denver, the woman at the ticket counter said there would be a good chance my flight in Chicago would be delayed too and said to stay on the plane. So I took a chance, and the whole flight I lived with the hope of Obama. Well, despite 7 years of running competitively, I lost the race against United Airlines. And it will come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that I definitely cried as my breathless "Paris?" was responded too with a sad, sad gaze and the words "you just missed it." And that is the story of how, while I am supposed to be in Paris, I am alone in a hotel in Chicago, watching Forest Gump, and blogging my woes to all of you. It's not all bad. I made a lot of friends. Several United employees think I am psychotic but are very sympathetic about it, apparently many older women feel the need to console when they see young girls alone sobbing in the airport, I helped a woman who was at the customer service counter and couldnt understand because she spoke mostly German, and Miguel, the man who drove the shuttle to the hotel was really nice and wants to be a police officer someday. Hopefully, my next blog update will be about all of the sights and sounds of Morocco- but as the Arab's say, "In'shah Allah" which means, "God willing" and though I have no idea why God willed this, tomorrow, I'll try again, In'shah Allah.