The Desert Part II

Sitting at a cafe in Merzouga drinking ice cold Coke in a glass bottle, French lettering on one side, Arabic on the other. Like it or not there is Coca-Cola running through these veins. Grandfather was a V.P. at Coke and the old man drove a Coke truck. Tap that vein with a plastic bendy straw and drink that sweet sticky blood, all carbonated and black... Can't shake or escape the bloodline. We head into the desert proper at 3pm for two nights with Omar and a few other tourists. It's nice here, real dusty and quiet. Will never get tired of having fun all the time. This young handicapped guy kinda crawled over on his hands just before we split and mumbled something in Arabic with his hand out. I declined. He made his way back to his wheelchair/bicycle hybrid and pedalled off using his hands. It's hard to say no sometimes, but I am fresh meat in this frontier town at the end of the road. Gotta stay strong. Next time, bros... maybe.