Friday night arrives and Charlie and I decide to hit the alcohol again. Two cans of Brown Ale, a bottle of lager and a bottle of wine finished off are all part of our preparation. Two hotel bars later and a visit to the Scotland Bar and were all set for some late night food.
We head to the end of the street that our appartment is on, knowing full well it is open 24 hours and they are very friendly. Its about 3.30am and it is still busy with hungy taxi drivers popping by for a bite to eat. We order our usual and begin to tuck in. Suddenly, a kind of dip in the atmosphere occurs. Heads are bowed slightly and nobody is talking other than Charles and I. Our only explanation was that this was due to the three gentlemen who had entered the restaurant and sat behind. They were 'dodgy' looking is how I would describe it. Given my inebriated state and the fact that I am not Columbo, thats as best asI can do.
It was upon closer inspection that we noticed that all three had tattoos of scorpions etched all accross their right hand. Now I am no expert, as I do not need to tell you, but our guess was that this must be some sort of gang or something. W e could and often are wrong however.
Anyway, they kept looking over at us two, almost smiling, but not quite. It was then that one of them motioned to us that he wanted to fight us (we think). He clenched his fists and acted as if he was punching the air, pointed to us and then to the road. He did this quite a few times and both of us were in no doubt what he meant. So, I decided to do what any naive, young, drunken foreigner should do in this situation. I stood up, arched my back and strutted over to their table in a menacing fashion. I then smiled like a madman. Started saying 'Hello' in a ridiculous fashion, both in English and Chinese, shook their hands and then returned to my seat. Charlie was doing pretty much the same from his seat.
It seemed to work, they were now looking very confused and amused at the same time. Shortly after they left and the restaurant returned to its lively norm. Now I admit, in our drunken state they could easily have just been loyal taxi drivers, road sweepers or members of a local Trade Union. However, the next day, when we walked past the restaurant, we saw the owners and chefs who are always overly friendly with us everytime we walk past. But this time, not a word. They went out of their way not to talk to us.
So as ever, I haven't got a clue and neither does Charlie. But it was a fun evening thats for sure.
We head to the end of the street that our appartment is on, knowing full well it is open 24 hours and they are very friendly. Its about 3.30am and it is still busy with hungy taxi drivers popping by for a bite to eat. We order our usual and begin to tuck in. Suddenly, a kind of dip in the atmosphere occurs. Heads are bowed slightly and nobody is talking other than Charles and I. Our only explanation was that this was due to the three gentlemen who had entered the restaurant and sat behind. They were 'dodgy' looking is how I would describe it. Given my inebriated state and the fact that I am not Columbo, thats as best asI can do.
It was upon closer inspection that we noticed that all three had tattoos of scorpions etched all accross their right hand. Now I am no expert, as I do not need to tell you, but our guess was that this must be some sort of gang or something. W e could and often are wrong however.
Anyway, they kept looking over at us two, almost smiling, but not quite. It was then that one of them motioned to us that he wanted to fight us (we think). He clenched his fists and acted as if he was punching the air, pointed to us and then to the road. He did this quite a few times and both of us were in no doubt what he meant. So, I decided to do what any naive, young, drunken foreigner should do in this situation. I stood up, arched my back and strutted over to their table in a menacing fashion. I then smiled like a madman. Started saying 'Hello' in a ridiculous fashion, both in English and Chinese, shook their hands and then returned to my seat. Charlie was doing pretty much the same from his seat.
It seemed to work, they were now looking very confused and amused at the same time. Shortly after they left and the restaurant returned to its lively norm. Now I admit, in our drunken state they could easily have just been loyal taxi drivers, road sweepers or members of a local Trade Union. However, the next day, when we walked past the restaurant, we saw the owners and chefs who are always overly friendly with us everytime we walk past. But this time, not a word. They went out of their way not to talk to us.
So as ever, I haven't got a clue and neither does Charlie. But it was a fun evening thats for sure.
1 comment:
David, I think they are putting something in your drink. By the way those henna hand tattoos are all the rage in Marrakech, mostly on the women though!
Worried Mam
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