[Sarah and myself atop the infamous roof!]
For Part I see previous post*
At first, he flat out refused to escort us back to our riad. By this point, we were feeling incredibly uneasy. We were in a completely different culture, cabs had stopped running these early morning hours, and we weren't sure which way would lead us back to our safe haven.
,Determined to make a break for it, Sarah and I defiantly stated we were leaving, we'd had enough, and it was time to call it a night. We retreated down the stairs more quickly than we had climbed them, hoping our host would come to his senses and take us back! "What are we gonna do?" Sarah asked. "I have no clue," came my answer. There we were, somewhere in Marrakech, without the slightest inclination of where to turn. Zachary came, panting after us, begging us to return to the roof. Yeah, right. That was not going to happen. Not going to happen again, I guess would be the way to put it.
Around this time, we took a look at our watches to discover it was a little after 3 a.m. Megan was probably worried sick or fast asleep (there were no other alternatives and the former ended up being the case). The city was still enveloped in a deep darkness, which promised no guarantee of lifting in the near future. We stood our ground and demanded to be taken back. Exhausted by our... not begging but pleading rather, Zachary relented. Thus, we began the walk towards our riad, tucked away on the opposite side of the Medina.
Feral cats purred from the shrubbery. A few cars sputtered by, but none were the Cabs in Shining Armour we had hoped for. No, we would have to make it back using our own sheer will plus our marvelous wit that had landed us in this situation in the first place!
Now, Megan had convinced herself that her two friends had been abducted in the over-the-top-American movie way. She would, of course, be disappointed that her happy go lucky friends would even put themselves in the same situations as all the other dumb Hollywood girls getting kidnapped on rooftops in big American movies. Disappointment, however, did not outweigh her soon responsibility of speaking to the police and informing our families of our Moroccan fate.
Along our guided tour of the pre-rambling streets, Zachary taunted us by threatening to leave us all "alone" in desolate areas. During his third sneer, I'd just about had enough. All of a sudden, like seeing a Madonna on a piece of toast or an Oasis in the middle of the dessert, Sarah and I laid eyes upon no other than that ridiculous fruit and vegetable mural! It was our saving grace. "Fine," we said laughing, "Leave us here! We'll find our way. We're great!" Zachary looked confused..."But.. but.. you'll be all alone. No one knows where you are," he stammered dumbfounded. Sarah and I took our turn towards our riad, not bothering to turn back. We heard his quickened steps behind us. He realized he had messed with the wrong women this time around. Yes indeed.
The innkeeper let us in, amazed. He had thought all guests had been accounted for long go. No, we told him. We had been promised that we would be met by a staffer ages ago to bring us back to our riad. Turns out, Zachary had not placed that phone call as he had claimed to do. It also turns out that Zachary had a reputation for cornering guests (of the female sex) and putting the moves on them. The owner was livid the next morning. He vowed he would take the proper disciplinary action against Zachary. We couldn't help but feel guilty. We confessed to partaking in wine on the roof, while waiting for the staffer who was apparently never notified of us ladies in waiting. This only further angered the owner as he had only two weeks prior reprimanded Zachary for doling out wine to guests (of the female sex).
Welp, it seemed that Zachary's destiny, or employment, was in our hands. We retracted our frustration from the night before. Zachary even decided to grace us with his presence that night as we ate dinner at our riad after interrupting our first course via phone call. Two nosy British elders seemed riveted by the entertainment, craning their necks to hear all of our exchanges. They couldn't seem to get enough of the unfolding drama right before their eyes. At the dinner table, no less! "No, no, quite alright. We're just trying to eat our meal," we tried to diffuse the circumstances. Zachary was not entirely convinced. He begged us for forgiveness, he then went back and tried to blame us for his poor behavior, he was all over the place with excuses. We didn't have the poor manners to just say "Get lost!" In retrospect, if we had done that it would've saved some time and saved me the inconvenience of eating a moderately warm piece of chicken.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the owner interceded and led Zachary away from the table. The rest of our stay we were treated like royalty, which we had already had a taste of but not to this degree. We were fussed over and fussed over by every single employee. When saying our good-byes, the owner made another apology. But if you ever ask us where to stay in Marrakech, the answer is a simple one: for all the adventure in the world we recommend Riad Edward! (It made The Guardian's top ten list!)