Panama sucked. The thrill is gone, the luster, faded. You can’t
smoke in your hotel room there anymore. I couldn’t smoke at my
favorite outside table at my favorite Tex-Mex , Italian, Greek
restaurant. Smokers in general are not welcome anywhere, and
soon, may be shot on sight. I’m happy to have gotten through
the border without being strip-searched for tobacco products.
I was laying on my hotel bed, naked, watching Law and Order,
Criminal Intent, when I felt something largish walking up my lower
leg. I had an instant SMACK reflex, and knew I nailed it,
whatever it was. I turned on the light and put on my glasses and
there was a fucking 2 ½ inch scorpion on my bed, looking dead.
Just when you think you’re out of the jungle and in a nice generic
hotel room, and you got a fucking scorpion going up your leg. I
showed it to the guy when I checked out and he wasn’t impressed;
notions of a discount dissapated, died, and went into the drink.
I caught two movies at the cine; Hancock, and Get Smart. Get
Smart was disappointing, I thought, and Hancock was pretty fun,
in a disturbing way..sorta…but not really. WALL-E was in Spanish,
so I passed for the time being.
I bought some shorts and t-shirts, and spent a lot of time counting
the hours till I could get the fuck out of there.
It’s time for me to apply my vastly limited resources to the task
of attaining some sort of residency here. Now that I’ve found a
great neighbor and house-sitter, I will be able to leave The Mutts
and The House, for longer periods of time to wander, dimly,
through the dark and curious passages leading who knows where in
the quest for open-armed acceptance, or at least, a grudgingly
diminishing resistance on the part of Costa Rican Hospitality..
I don’t think Panamanians like Gringos much on the whole. Costa
Ricans have embraced them/us for years, and have realized some
substantial rewards in certain sectors. Of course there’s a
different history with The U.S. and Panama. Whatever the
reasons, I feel much more welcome in Costa Rica than in Panama,
and here (CR), a person can still smoke in an outdoor restaurant,
and in ones own hotel room. SMOKING IS GOOD!
I’ve become, like, totally intolerant of intolerance. I am soon
going to plant myself right next to a couple at a restaurant, a
couple reeking of self-righteousness and Politicaly-Correctism, and
wait till they are well into their meals before I light up (hopefully
with the right draft direction) and get my money’s worth with my
deadly second-hand smoke. It’s pathetic I feel no remorse for all
the healthy lungs I’ve poisoned with deadly tobacco smoke. What
is wrong with me? I, for some reason, never thought my cigarette
smoke could be bothersome to someone, at a baseball game; for
instance. The huge fireworks extravaganza after the game fills
the park with dense clouds of noxious gas, no problem, but don’t
cross the smoker line with that cancer stick..asshole!
The shuttle bus from David, to El Frontera, or the border, is fun,
and cheap, and makes me like the people more. Next time I’m
going to find some little town and kick around for a couple of
days instead of wandering dopily through the streets of David.
I got out of town as fast as I could this morning, and was at the
bus around 6AM, Panama Time. The ride was nice (about an
hour), and someone actually spoke to me! He pointed to his house
as he left and I replied, “muy bueno”.
I breezed through the Panama exit, but there were four bus-loads
of Guatemalans in queue to enter Costa Rica. I had a sinking
feeling. Then, The Expediter graced my path. We embraced like
long lost twins, and he hustled me to the front of a line. He
looks official, and is an important cog in the wheels of the border
crossing business, for a small fee. I only had a five dollar bill, so
that’s what I slipped him on the way out to get my car. I LOVE
THESE GUYS! He probably saved me an hour of standing around
with my thumb up my ass, which I'm uncomfortable with in public.
Driving home I managed to fly under the radar, zooming past the
speed traps with a friendly wave at the Policia who, luckily, were
busy extorting other hapless motorist.
Carolina seemed to have enjoyed house-sitting, and I'm happy to
have made this connection.
I went on a binge soon after arriving home, and while visiting
with Noah up at Mistura, he roped me into making a flyer for
Jam Night, Mondays. I leapt into action, and with reckless
abandon, flew at the task in hand. I entertain myself easily and
often with gusto.
I think I made a final print awhile ago. It’s just a simple thing,
but I like it. I get to make the next Full Moon Poster..oh boy, oh
boy, oh boy! I’ll see how many people I can piss off, or at least
annoy.
I wanted to rant more about the whole Nazi Anti-Smoking League,
and their world-wide crusade to fuck with smokers everywhere, but
I’m not in the mood anymore.
I’m tired,
Tom..out.
smoke in your hotel room there anymore. I couldn’t smoke at my
favorite outside table at my favorite Tex-Mex , Italian, Greek
restaurant. Smokers in general are not welcome anywhere, and
soon, may be shot on sight. I’m happy to have gotten through
the border without being strip-searched for tobacco products.
I was laying on my hotel bed, naked, watching Law and Order,
Criminal Intent, when I felt something largish walking up my lower
leg. I had an instant SMACK reflex, and knew I nailed it,
whatever it was. I turned on the light and put on my glasses and
there was a fucking 2 ½ inch scorpion on my bed, looking dead.
Just when you think you’re out of the jungle and in a nice generic
hotel room, and you got a fucking scorpion going up your leg. I
showed it to the guy when I checked out and he wasn’t impressed;
notions of a discount dissapated, died, and went into the drink.
I caught two movies at the cine; Hancock, and Get Smart. Get
Smart was disappointing, I thought, and Hancock was pretty fun,
in a disturbing way..sorta…but not really. WALL-E was in Spanish,
so I passed for the time being.
I bought some shorts and t-shirts, and spent a lot of time counting
the hours till I could get the fuck out of there.
It’s time for me to apply my vastly limited resources to the task
of attaining some sort of residency here. Now that I’ve found a
great neighbor and house-sitter, I will be able to leave The Mutts
and The House, for longer periods of time to wander, dimly,
through the dark and curious passages leading who knows where in
the quest for open-armed acceptance, or at least, a grudgingly
diminishing resistance on the part of Costa Rican Hospitality..
I don’t think Panamanians like Gringos much on the whole. Costa
Ricans have embraced them/us for years, and have realized some
substantial rewards in certain sectors. Of course there’s a
different history with The U.S. and Panama. Whatever the
reasons, I feel much more welcome in Costa Rica than in Panama,
and here (CR), a person can still smoke in an outdoor restaurant,
and in ones own hotel room. SMOKING IS GOOD!
I’ve become, like, totally intolerant of intolerance. I am soon
going to plant myself right next to a couple at a restaurant, a
couple reeking of self-righteousness and Politicaly-Correctism, and
wait till they are well into their meals before I light up (hopefully
with the right draft direction) and get my money’s worth with my
deadly second-hand smoke. It’s pathetic I feel no remorse for all
the healthy lungs I’ve poisoned with deadly tobacco smoke. What
is wrong with me? I, for some reason, never thought my cigarette
smoke could be bothersome to someone, at a baseball game; for
instance. The huge fireworks extravaganza after the game fills
the park with dense clouds of noxious gas, no problem, but don’t
cross the smoker line with that cancer stick..asshole!
The shuttle bus from David, to El Frontera, or the border, is fun,
and cheap, and makes me like the people more. Next time I’m
going to find some little town and kick around for a couple of
days instead of wandering dopily through the streets of David.
I got out of town as fast as I could this morning, and was at the
bus around 6AM, Panama Time. The ride was nice (about an
hour), and someone actually spoke to me! He pointed to his house
as he left and I replied, “muy bueno”.
I breezed through the Panama exit, but there were four bus-loads
of Guatemalans in queue to enter Costa Rica. I had a sinking
feeling. Then, The Expediter graced my path. We embraced like
long lost twins, and he hustled me to the front of a line. He
looks official, and is an important cog in the wheels of the border
crossing business, for a small fee. I only had a five dollar bill, so
that’s what I slipped him on the way out to get my car. I LOVE
THESE GUYS! He probably saved me an hour of standing around
with my thumb up my ass, which I'm uncomfortable with in public.
Driving home I managed to fly under the radar, zooming past the
speed traps with a friendly wave at the Policia who, luckily, were
busy extorting other hapless motorist.
Carolina seemed to have enjoyed house-sitting, and I'm happy to
have made this connection.
I went on a binge soon after arriving home, and while visiting
with Noah up at Mistura, he roped me into making a flyer for
Jam Night, Mondays. I leapt into action, and with reckless
abandon, flew at the task in hand. I entertain myself easily and
often with gusto.
I think I made a final print awhile ago. It’s just a simple thing,
but I like it. I get to make the next Full Moon Poster..oh boy, oh
boy, oh boy! I’ll see how many people I can piss off, or at least
annoy.
I wanted to rant more about the whole Nazi Anti-Smoking League,
and their world-wide crusade to fuck with smokers everywhere, but
I’m not in the mood anymore.
I’m tired,
Tom..out.
Last Exit to Panama
7-12-2008
jungle journal, 7-12-2008, by Thomas Scott Daly
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noah