una persona, si´

Well it was Panama that won the earlier battle of places to go. It started off as one of those trips.

Day uno

I hailed a cab on the way out the door but him dicking around costs me to miss the bus at 0630 so I waited around Port Authority unitl 0700. Once we got to the terminal, police had it blocked off for some reason. Finally at the gate, my boarding pass won´t print so I go up to the desk amist chaos that is Latin America travel and get my passport checked and a boarding card. I glance at the seat number and jockeyed for postion as these people like to bring everything not nailed down onto the plane with them. I am all settled in my seat and some guy claims I am in is seat. I look at my card to discover they gave me the incorrect slip. Shit! They were about to close the door and there I stood without a seat. It was rectivied quickly and I was then placed in 12A. The deadheading captain was in 12C and found it necessary to ask the same montanous questions every crew member asks. I answered politely but briefly and finally gave him the stink eye when he started insulting Oregon. I wake up to find a very tall Dutch man next to me and then he proceeds to talk to me even though I have my paper in hand.

I arrive and wait for my friend Jim where he told me to. He drives quickly into town as he has found a Superbowl party for us to attend per my request. We stop for a quick bit and then head over to some penthouse. We arrive and this guy answers the door. A tight fitting tee shirt and silver ¨gun¨ shaped belt buckle. He informs us that everyone just left and we missed the party. It is 2:30 and I find this strange. We head home then to change as we are going to watch the game at a casino now. We make a stop at the friends house who invited us to see what was up. He told us we missed one hell of a party as there was a live sex show on the pool table. I replied that doesn´t have anything to do with the Superbowl. We make it to the casino and order some beers. I have to explain not only the game but how betting on squares works to my friend. I am watching the game, commericals, and the women trying to prostitute themselves all at the same time. Girls are running around in heels and super tight clothing. I don´t get it, I tell Jim who wears high heels to watch football? He explains to me as he motions to my reefs (with the beer bottle opener on bottom) that women are women down here and I am some kind of a man. Whatever, I reply and take swig of beer.
On the way home there was some sort of traffic jam. The Panamanians didn´t seem to mind as they turned up the music, left the cars and started dancing. They all walked to the trunks and retrived beers from coolers. I am cracking up as Jim explains, this is just what they do. I tried to picture New York traffic jams as parties.