We’re Byrne

Morocco, Pg 2




It’s go time…
We started walking the plank that leads onto the plane, a plank, as in a ships plank; at least that’s what I imagined it to be. That may have had something to do with my fondness for pirate movies when I was a kid; and of course my current state of nervousness.

I could feel the sweat starting to happen. Neither Eve or I had ever flown before and we’re both quite nervous. Once we got on the plane, [DC-8] we found our seats a few of rows behind the wing, stowed our carry on bag and tried to relax.

After a few minutes we began to mellow out a bit, but still not real comfortable with the idea of flying. The rest of the gang weren’t nervous at all, maybe they got high before getting on the plane.
I’m not so sure if getting high would have made Eve and I any less nervous,
hmmm, on the contrary. I know that getting high would have absolutely increased our level of nervousness; so it was better that we didn’t.

Oh well, no matter what, there was no chickening out now, we’re committed.


Our ride, a CP Air DC-8


Its 6pm, the plane was getting ready for take off. The engines were firing up. After a few minutes the plane started to taxi out to the runway. This wasn’t so bad, not much different than than a car ride, but a real big car, what do I have to be nervous about?

The plane got to the runway and just sat there for a minute winding up the turbines. I could feel the engine vibration throughout my entire body.
The plane started rolling down the runway rapidly gaining more and more speed, when all of a sudden it left the ground.
There was a strong g-force pushing me back into my seat, it made me suck in my breath.
As the plane gained altitude so did my stomach, I thought I was going to puke.

There were these two fresh air vents above my head just slightly ahead of my seat, I directed them straight onto my face; I’m sure that was the only thing that kept me from getting sick.
After a few minutes we reached cruising altitude and the plane levelled off.

Holy shit man, what a fucking rush!

Our first stop was Montreal. We were told it was going to be a very brief stop, but we would have time to go to the duty free shop to pick up a few things, like smokes, snacks, magazines and whatever…
With shopping done its back to our seats and chill.
We left Montreal shortly after 7:30pm. This was the first of four stops before we get to Casablanca.

It seemed that within just a few seconds after the plane left the ground it banked sharply to the left, which was my side of the plane. I’m looking out the window and thinking, ‘holy shit; it looked like the wing is going to dig into the ground because we didn’t appear to be high enough yet’.
But yeah, we were high enough [but not in the way you may be thinking] and the wing didn’t dig into the ground; yeah, still a bit nervous…
and yes, my inner voice was right
Next stop Lisbon. We settled in for the long ride.

Dinner was now being served: beef tenderloin with red wine and a couple of veggies, and topped off with bread pudding for dessert. Given that this was airline food it was a surprisingly good dinner.
Sometime later the lights were turned down and out came the blankets and pillows. We barley slept though, it wasn’t the least bit comfortable.

Very early in the morning they began serving breakfast. Eve wasn’t feeling well so she didn’t eat.
About 7am we were coming in for a landing in Lisbon. Just as we began to loose altitude Eve started to get sick. She buried her face in a barf bag and she didn’t let it go until we were on the ground.
This was only a pit stop to refuel so we couldn’t leave the plane. We were there for about 30 minutes then off again, next stop, Madrid.

Less than an hour later we were approaching Madrid. As we were coming in for a landing Eve got sick again, and again her face was buried in a barf bag.
I didn’t think anyone could puke as much as she did, we all felt really bad for her.

When we got into the terminal we were informed there would be a four and a half hour layover. We were all very tired from little or no sleep. We’ll try to catch a bit of sleep on the benches.
Our luggage was searched for guns, drugs and whatever, and we were informed we couldn’t leave the terminal for some kind of security reason, whatever it may be.

We found a bench for Eve so she could lay down and get some sleep and give her gut a rest from all the puking.
Aileen stayed with her while us guys walked around the terminal checking the place out.
We found a cafe’, got coffee and donuts for everyone [ I’m pretty sure Eve didn’t eat any] and we just hung out while we waited for our connecting flight.

The terminal was a very busy place, lots of people running here and there trying to catch their flights. It was also full of police and soldiers.
It seemed that every third person was a cop or soldier, and we seemed to be the focus of their attention; we didn’t understand why.

We sure didn’t like this much attention, it made us feel quite uncomfortable.
But on the upside no one was pointing a gun at us, just their stare; I guess we can live with that.

After Eve had rested for awhile her and I went for a walk around the terminal, bought some post cards and sent one off to the kids.


It was now time for the next leg of our flight. We were lined up to board a Royal Air Maroc “fucking piece of shit plane”, a small jet that looked like it was at death’s doorstep..

I sure didn’t want to get on this piece of shit plane, but it was either this plane or no plane; those were are only two options.
So now we’re on the piece of shit plane; fuck, I don’t like this, man.
As it lifted off and started to climb, there was an very unnerving rumbling of creaks, groans, rattles, bangs and snapping sounds; I swear that every nut, bolt, rivet, and elastic band in that sucker was loose…

Once we reached cruising altitude and levelled off the banging and thumping noises from plane settled down. Now they began serving lunch, a horrible smelling fish plate. I’m pretty sure that none of us ate any of this disgusting smelling stink.

Approaching southern Spain we could now see Gibraltar, the Mediterranean Sea, and the north coast of Africa.
It was an awesome sight, what an incredible rush; holy fuck-WOW man, its Africa, the birth place of the human species.
Of course that theory depends on whether you lean toward evolution or creation.

I had never seen anything so impressive; the first of many things to come. This was also our first daytime flying experience.
The only troubling thing was the plane. My thought was, “this fucking plane better not go down for any reason other than a landing”, but only a soft landing. If it’s a hard and fast landing, well… I’m just not ready to die; that was not part of the plan.

The plane pictured below is in much better shape than the one we were on. Our plane looked like it had the shit beat out of it many times over.
You couldn’t find more than a few square feet of body surface anywhere, except for maybe on the roof, that didn’t have dents bangs and scrapes and what seemed like extreme ware and tear.
I was grateful that it was able to stay in the air.

Next stop, Tangier.

I was sitting beside a Moroccan guy dressed in a suit, a typical business guy. He appeared to be quite nervous; hmmm, I’m changing that to extremely nervous.
He was chain smoking these disgusting smelling “Black Tobac” cigarettes, his face was also leaking bullet size beads of sweat.
He would puff on his cigarette, look out the window and sweat heavily, light another smoke, sweat some more, look out the window again etc.
He continued to repeat this routine a number of times.
I no longer believed he was just extremely nervous. I’ve elevated his look to be that of, ‘on the verge of totally freaking out’, which has now rattled the hell out of me.
He certainly appeared more terrified than just nervous or freaked out.
Maybe he knows something about this plane that we should all be aware of.
But then, if that was the case, it may be better if we weren’t aware…
Que sera sera

As with most people, when you’re very nervous about a situation that you have absolutely no control over, your mind can play all kinds of psychological games with your thoughts.
Right now my mind is having it’s way with me in a very unpleasant manner.
As a result, I gave thought to saying a prayer if I could remember any, I should remember, I was a catholic kid at one time. If I wasn’t too nervous to remember a prayer, this would certainly be the right time to say one;
got to cover my ass for any unexpected possibility.


Well, sigh of relief, we made it to Tangier with no problem, I’m not quite sure if Eve got sick again as we were landing, but I’d say it was a safe bet that she was; assuming she had anything left to throw-up.
We were only in Tangier for fifteen minutes, just long enough to discharge a few passengers which included the “black tobac” guy, then it was back in the air again for the final leg of our flight…

Next stop, Casablanca.

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