No dirhams rain from heaven

"That wasn't they way it should happen" was what I thought about my possible death when I was stuck at the front seats of a mini bus between my friend and the driver. We (me, the driver, my friend, some other colleagues and a group of still stoned americans) were heading to Zagora, the closest desert to Marrakech, where we were having an exotic but not expensive and truly great holidays. Though I could be telling stories from that week for almost two days, what I've just told was just the set off of what I want to tell. So, as I was saying a few lines ago, I was fit in between two sweaty subjects, and I may have seen my whole life passing by my sight at least 10 times (as many as trucks, cars and donkeys were about to smash into). After 6-7 hours of car travel, we got to reach the Atlas, our last stretch before Zagora. But, as we started going up the mountains a soft rain began to appear. It wasn't long until that soft delicate rain turned into a furious hailstorm. The "that wasn't they way it should happen" appeared clearly than ever before since I had jumped into the bus. So, it was pouring damned rocks from the sky, water torrents were going down the mountains and besides all, the driver was driving one hand, having the other extremely busy taking pictures of the scene. When he finally saw it may be a little dangerous for all the still-not-in-the-thirties people who were under his driving responsibility, he asked me if I could take the pictures. He handed me his phone (quite a new Iphone, I must say) and he concentrated on barely visible road. Imagine the situation: you are heading to the desert, the sunniest and hottest place on earth in one of the hottest and sunniest countries in the world, and you are taking pictures of the biggest hailstorm you have ever seen. This wasn't like on Sex on the City volume II, I thought (later I wondered about for how many thousands of dollars could I sue National Geographic with, alleging information gap). It was still raining cats and dogs when we got out from the Atlas and reached the boundaries of Zagora. And now comes the best. Our camel retinue was waiting for us under the rain, in order to take all of us to our camp in the middle of the desert. That was half an hour journey. None of us would have gone out of the bus, and actually we were all inside, huddled up like kittens. But the driver was anxiously wanting to go back home, and he kicked us out from the bus. So we started a wobbly camel ride under Zagora sky.