Morocco
When my twin sister Erin and I turned 30 in the summer of 2012, we started a tradition of traveling together every five years to celebrate our birthdays. The first trip was a two-week trip to Europe to celebrate our passage into a new decade. The second — in 2017 for our 35th birthdays —I decided that we would travel to Morocco and Senegal, and to make the trip extra special for Erin, I did my best to keep the location a secret. The first leg of the trip was from Washington, DC to Casablanca, and I made it my personal goal to try to see if we could get all the way to Africa without her knowing where we were vacationing.
Some parts of my plan were very easy to conceal. I booked the flights with her passport information and had the ticket confirmations sent to my email. I gave her thoughtful advice about how to pack and what type of weather to expect. I told her an approximate flight time from our departure destination, LaGuardia Airport, to give her peace of mind that we weren’t flying too far away for her comfort, but vague enough for her not to be able to determine the location. She was a good sport and thought it was fun, and most importantly, she trusted me to make the plans.
We met at Dulles Airport a few days before New Year's Eve. We would be flying to New York first, and then to Morocco. The flight would put us in Casablanca in the early afternoon, which gave us plenty of time to get to our hotel, settle in, and have dinner before getting some rest.
We walked into the airport with our carry-on bags in tow, and I quickly scanned the kiosks for the JetBlue check-in counter. As per my personal rules, we had arrived early for our flight, more than 3 hours before scheduled departure, to avoid ticket lines and to give us a chance to visit the lounges and truly start our vacation with complimentary snacks and drinks. I approached the JetBlue attendant and greeted him, handing over our passports. Erin stood a few feet away, playing along to the game of “mystery destination”, staying out of earshot as best she could. As he began typing in our information into his computer, I quietly explained our situation.
“So, this is my sister, and she doesn’t know where we are going,” I whispered playfully.
He looked up at me with a mischievous smile that accompanied his widening eyes.
“Oh, this is fun. I love that,” he said as he slipped our boarding passes into our passports and handed them back to me.
“I hope you have a great trip to Costa Rica!” he exclaimed, intentionally loud enough for my sister to hear. “Or is it Thailand? Maybe Denmark?” Erin turned to look at him, grinning and shrugging her shoulders. He laughed with excitement and told us to have a great time. I thanked him profusely and couldn’t believe our luck in having found someone already who was so willing to support my secret mission.
Our short flight to New York offered no risk of our destination being exposed, and the lounge in La Guardia was everything we needed to really feel that we were on vacation. We enjoyed cool glasses of Sauvignon Blanc and an assortment of cheese and olives while watching planes taxi down the runway. I took notice that the lounge didn’t have a departure flight screen. What luck. Even now, Erin couldn’t start to guess where we were heading by seeing a list of international flights on the monitor.
A few hours later, it was time for us to make our way to the gate. I didn’t know how I was going to keep Erin from seeing “Casablanca” on the screen by the tarmac. We made our way through the airport, passing signs to Rome, Istanbul, Zurich. With each, Erin paused and looked at me, wondering if I would react. I kept walking, looking ahead, ready to make a quick move to divert Erin’s eyes from seeing where we were going as we got closer to our gate. As the screen came into my view, I couldn’t believe it—it was blank. The monitor wasn’t working. She still didn’t know where we were going!
Amazed that I was so close to pulling off my surprise, we sat down at a bar in view of the gate, waiting to board. I told Erin that as soon as the announcements started, she needed to put her headphones in until we got on the plane. She nodded in agreement and signaled for the bartender. We earned another glass of wine to celebrate our success of secrecy!
The bartender returned a few moments later with two glasses of Pinot Grigio, and just as Erin and I cheered to our upcoming adventure, a young man of roughly 20 years old approached us and, before I had a chance to register that he was actually going to talk to us and not the 250 other passengers waiting nearby, said, “Is this the plane to Casablanca?”
I set down my glass, and with all the kindness I could muster toward a stranger who knew nothing of our secret game, I smiled and said, “Yes, it is.”
Erin eating french fries in Casablanca the day we arrived.
