MY WORLD CUP QUEST: SUCKER PUNCH ME ONCE, SHAME ON YOU. SUCKER PUNC...

4/32 WORLD CUP TEAMS COMPLETED

PUT THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND SMOKE IT

Morocco versus Iran was game three of the World Cup and I returned to Maroosh Restaurant, (Soi 5 Sukhumvit). The scene upstairs was similar to the previous night described here. https://steemit.com/photography/@highselfesteem/my-world-cup-quest-12-000-cigarettes-and-no-one-to-speak-to.

The Soldier had agreed join me on my Moroccan mission. Our quick pregame pit-stop for a beverage on the way here was not going to be sufficient to get us through another game with commentary in Arabic. We looked around at the twenty other tables in the restaurant and both came to the same conclusion. We ordered a shisha pipe. It contains the strength of 200 cigarettes in one condensed space. This free standing and ornate bong was delivered to our table in minutes. (The word "bong" is the only Thai word in common usage in the English language. A "buang" is a cylindrical pipe commonly made from bamboo. It may have entered the English launguage during the Vietnam War.)
To complete the North African set we ordered a pot of tea to water down the parched deserts our throats would become. We felt we'd blended right in. Or at the very least we'd become less conspicuous by sitting amidst the mint-scented hazy obstruction bellowing out from our mouths.

GUERRILLAS IN OUR MIDST

But even amongst all the smoke the Moroccan fans I'd met the night before found us. As the game progressed more and more red jerseys appeared at the top of the stairs and took a seat below the big screen TV. The native French speakers were well able to converse with me in English as we discussed the strengths and weaknesses of the Moroccan national team. The game was a free flowing one where Morocco had the best clear cut chances. A few minutes into the game Iran had their first major attacking chance and almost scored. A roar of disappointment emanated from the back of the restaurant. The Moroccans, Soldier and I all turned our heads in unison at this unwelcome disturbance. A group of Iranians had infiltrated our Moroccan outpost. After a few sheepish looks and murmured comments the groups were soon on good speaking terms. We now had an atmosphere deserving of the occasion.

Morocco outplayed the Iranians for most of the game. But the game isn't over until the Thai police arrive and Iran got their surprise winner in the 95th minute of the game. It was a beautiful headed goal from the unmarked player. Sadly for him it was into the wrong net. The own goal from Morocco had given Iran the victory. As the Moroccans beside me had predicted, their lack of goal scoring ability up front had cost them. The Moroccans warmly congratulated the Iranians on their victory and sunk back into the aftermath of defeat.

THE LUCK OF THE IRISH

Soldier and I had begun to notice something peculiar during the game. Each set of fans I'd watched the game with so far had seen their team lose. Was I a World Cup jinx? "I thought you Irish are supposed to be lucky!?" said Soldier. It was my first thought as the own goal smashed into the net. I decided it was time to commiserate with and leave my new found friends before I caused them any more damage. As I put down the money to pay for the evening's smoke inhalation I noticed my seat number; 13. Unlucky for some.