Lebanon had moved up the list this summer when my friend Bassam flooded my timeline with beautiful pictures from his first visit there.
His trip was a special one: it was his first time visiting his homeland. Hubby and I had dubbed him the Fake Lebanese years ago. And now he left us yearning for a visit in Lebanon and looking for a more fitted nickname. For he no longer was a "fake".
It's only fitting that Bassam worked with his mother and Alain (behind my back!) to plan transportation and other details of a trip that was kept hidden from me for 3 months.
For 3 months, while I was planning a trip to Spain, Hubby and Val were devising a plan to take me to Lebanon.
I don't like surprises. I like to know so that I can plan. I know that surprises are meant to do just the opposite. But I. Just. Can't.
But I'm not mad, though. Actually, I'm happy about going to Lebanon.
Nevertheless, since I've heard the news about the secret destination, I've been putting together a list of culprits.
Hubby, the mastermind. Bassam, the wing man. Val, the Annoying Little Brother—no need for a new title, this is what annoying little brothers do: they plot. And I've just learned that our ICE (in case of emergency) contact knew. The culprits: the three musqueteers and D'artagnan (Val is D'artagnan, he's just as annoying).
How did that go by me?
School. I got so busy with school that when Hubby told me to relax on the planning, and that Val and him would cover for me, I welcomed the help with relief.
Three weeks ago, Hubby told me to pick a food tour and that he'd book it. When I couldn't find tickets for the Alhambra, both Hubby and Val empathized. They told me not to worry and that the scalpers would probably have some.
When I asked about the car rental yesterday night. Hubby and Val told me a tale about the rental costing to much. According to them, flying to Barcelona and grabbing the car there and then driving to Granada made more sense. That's actually when I knew something was up. Their story didn't hold up. But I thought they'd added a short trip to Marrakesh or something.
But the food tour was never booked. We're not going to the Alhambra. We're in Barcelona for a 7—hour layover and we're catching a late flight to Beirut from Barcelona.
Well played, boys. Well played.
It's payback time!