"My Kinda Party"

Worked all week.
Cleaned up, clean cut, and clean shaved.
Got the cover off a ’68.
I fired it up, and let them horses sing...
Baby, what you got goin’ on Saturday?
You know, words got it, there’s gonna be a party,
Out of town about half a mile.
Four wheel drives and big mud tires.
Muscadine wine
Well, with apologies to Jason Aldean,  maybe it didn't quite go down like that, but it was an interesting first week of school.  There was the armed robbery, but we'll get back to that...

On Monday I joined a nearby gym.  I had better equipment in my high school weight room in the mid '80s, but the price is pretty right, and it's within walking distance.  The only inconvenience is that it's open to me on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.  Why is that?  Bueller?  Bueller?  Men and women cannot work out in there at the same time.  The ladies can use it on Tues/Thurs/Sat, and its closed on Sunday.  Shockingly (snicker) the guy at the desk tried to cheat me on the sign-up fee, and he succeeded.  Short version, I didn't catch him til Wednesday, but I did get him!  Anyway, It was H-O-T in there, but I liked that, though I got thru alright (I didn't puke until Friday, but that's another story).

Since it's me we're talking about, food has to fit into the equation (food squared + Jack = Yum).  I put in an order for a kilo (yes, a kilo) of homemade flour tortillas made by a local staff member.  Oh my are they good - I can't wait!  Went out for chow on Friday with some friends to a Chinese place.  I'm not sure it has an official name.  Some call it Chinese Villa, creatively named since it's a Chinese joint built into a villa.  Some just call it the Chinese place.  Whatever.  It's great; they treat us real nice.

On the flip side, we went to brunch on Saturday.  One guy and I ordered a Hawaiian pizza.  It was a white pie, and it had pineapple, but guess what else?  Chicken, mushrooms and...kernels of corn?  Odd, but it worked.  Then we went to a nice little souk tucked in behind some buildings across the street from the French Market.  The nut guy is the man!  I saw some broccoli and went to check it out.  I give thanks to Mom here because she taught me things to look for when buying veggies, and I knew this stuff looked fine, but wasn't really.  The guy stopped me when I went to walk away and brought out the good stuff from underneath the stand.  Now we're talking...

When do we get to the armed robbery?  Patience...
I'll warm up with the illness and near-violence on Friday.  Something struck me midday Friday which in short led to my praying to the porcelain god in the cafeteria staff bathroom.  The day had begun with my roomie, 3 female staff and I standing on the corner waiting for the school bus (for you wiseacres, it is a short bus).  A man approaches the women, I'm half-paying attention.  I know enough to know he wants money.  When I hear the one woman who is a local talking back to him, I don't know what they're saying to each other, but I figure it's time for him to leave.  I look at him and he's yapping to me.  Whatever.  I just put down the bags I 'm holding, stagger my feet and wait to see if he is stupid enough to do anything.  He soon walks away down the street, running his mouth along the way.  The woman who had been talking to him told me that what he was saying in Arabic was that he knows me and is going to get me.  Whatever.  Now, we get to the armed robbery...

I use the term armed robbery a bit loosely; I just wanted to pique your interest.  I was robbed, in a sense, and the man had gun, though I'm sure he had no plans to use it.  The uniform was more than enough.  You see where this is going?  Allow me to fill in the blanks...
Certain details will be withheld to protect the not-so-innocent.  On Saturday, a Moroccan staff member was driving his car, with me in the back and another expat staff in the front.  We were on the AutoRoute (turnpike), driving safely and legally when we were pulled over.  We knew what was coming.  The driver got out, and approached the officer behind the vehicle.  When he got back in, he simply said: "cent" which is French for hundred.  It's a shame that we were just pleased it wasn't more, given what usually happens.  My expat colleague was aghast at how blatant a scene it was.  I replied that I appreciated that it occurred in a routine, upfront manner as opposed to the shady and/or hypocritical dealings you might encounter elsewhere...

Oh baby, you can find me.
On the back of a jacked up tailgate...
And I’ll find peace.
At the bottom of a real tall cold drink.
I'm chillin' with some Skynyrd and some old Hank.
Lets get this thing started.
It’s my kind of party...