Four Germans

Not my best but hell, you asked for an update so here you go.  Completely unedited obviously.

Friday

Time to pick up the girls. Two Germans and a Swiss girl. Found the ostensible location of the hostel at which they were staying. Yeah, we can probably find the place. Near the park... done. “First we catch a bus to David, then a bus to Almirante.” That takes us across the continental divide from the Pacific to the Caribbean. Stop at cafeteria. While waiting in line to get some food one of the girls handed me my wallet, which I had left on the bus seat. Ahh, shit, and thanks girl.

Took a water taxi to my house. Timon, my gardener, was looking dejected. Hmmm. What's up? Well it turns out that the house now had no electricity or water. First I found the batteries completely discharged,  I fired up the generator. Electricity restored while the batteries charged. Water? A tank was dry. I flipped a few valves and WTF? Water streaming out of a shower. That's how you ran the tank dry and consumed all the battery power. What next? The refrigerator, just a cleaning of the flue. Half an hour later the house was usable. McGiver? Well thanks, but I think not.

The Swiss girl who found my wallet found my cell phone in the cushions in the love seat on the deck. No more problems I hope.

What next? A broken plastic colored fish sat on the rail. Turns out Timon's daughter was captivated by it and while bestowing attention upon it, broke off a fin. No big deal. I gave the kid the fish and she was thrilled to possess something as beautiful as a tacky plastic bit of brik brak that seems like a mandatory appointment in a seaside abode.

Saturday

Now what?

Dead battery. Boat wouldn't start. Had to call a friend. Took the girls to various water front venues. The Pickled Parrot, for a taste of George, a character of the first rate. A warm embrace by Jessica was followed by a sullen greeting from George. The sign that indicates that questions are a dollar is oft enforced. They ordered one of his big burgers to be split four ways and took three extra sets of cutlery. George imposed a stiff fine for extra cutlery. Welcome to weird. Some snorkeling at Hospital Point and a dolphin encounter.

The phone rang. One more girl, Rahel, a 24 year old stunningly constructed German was on the dock in town. “Can you come pick me up?” Back to town. Well past dusk I pulled up to the dock with a boatload of desirable young women and sought her. Looking around, a German guy looked at me with disgust. “She used my phone to call you.” Chump. You go home alone and I will take the object of your desire home with me. “How do you do this?” If you think that this lead to an evening of coconut oil and vinyl sheets I am sorry to disappoint you. But, a great time was had by all and that was the point. To bed.

Holy shit. My room was illuminated with the intensity of daylight followed no time later by a bowel shaking, bed shaking, rolling thunder followed immediately by the unmistakable sounds of a massive tree splintering. Would this end in a boom? A cleavage of my roof perhaps? . What am I to do? Throw myself over one of these girls and think that if a tree crashes through my house I have any pretense of offering any isolation from damage?

Nobody screamed. Silent terror was succeeded by an immense boom as the tree crashed through the adjacent foliage and found its way to the red clay soil.

Sunday

Of course I had to convey the girls to the mandatory trip to one of the most spectacular beaches on the the Caribbean. Oh yeah, a container full of boats. A proclamation  that my house would not be rented.  Thanks, asshole.

Monday

For a finale I took the girls to go to the bat cave. One had wanted to see a sloth and I could pretty much guarantee that. Down to the end of the bay I pulled up to a rough hewn one room house. The arrival elicited the inquistitive gazes of half a dozen, nearly naked kids ranging from ages two to eight. “Donde este tu Padre? Yo quierre habla con tu padre”. Some incomprehensible gibberish. A short time later the man emerged and I managed to communicate that I desired him to take the girls up the river to the cave. He bailed out a dugout canoe, dragged it off shore and the girls boarded. One, the Schweitzer, was more than sufficient ballast. The boat had but maybe two inches of free board. Well, the waters there are calm and shallow and the caimans no threat to humans. Have fun, I will return in a couple of hours.

The girls thought that they had imposed enough and one obviously sought some of the crazy night life for which Bocas is infamous. The Schweitzer certainly needed a good service call and I was sure that somebody would be willing to take her chubby ass home and give her the scrogging she needed. I dropped them off, they secured a room at Hotel Sagittarius and were well pleased with my recommendation. The three of them shared a room for $26 with a private bath where elsewhere they would have paid more, for less security. They returned within half an hour. “Jim we really didn't want to leave.” Well, hell, I didn't want you to go. We resumed our comradery and they did their best to express their gratitude

My phone rang. The guy who managed my dock reconstruction wanted to be paid. Fair enough. “I'm at Casa Verde.” Twenty phone calls later he finally managed to find the place. I can send an email to a girl from another country and tell her to meet me there and it's little more than a couple of minutes to find the place. What the fuck is your problem? This town is what, ten streets wide and thirty long? 

Next venue...

Barco Hundido is a charming little spot the water. A cavernous facility comprised of a roof over a minimally improved piece of earth. A path here, a dance floor, a dock. Adjacent to the dance floor is a wrap around dock that overlooks crystal clear water, illuminated to reveal a ship wreck on the sea floor. It transforms from a tranquil spot to a viper pit as the night progresses. When all else closes, this is the last dance, last chance, place where all things are possible. What are the possibilities? At three in the morning the chance that you can find a woman will will allow you to take her home and have your way in at least two ways that are felonies in a large number of states is very high. Where would this deed be done? This is not an issue; a shared $8 a night room, in the presence of other revelers, some who have managed a similar circumstance is common. No romance is involved.

One morning, a conversation with a particularly cute nineteen year old from England, one of half a dozen I took snorkeling the day before revealed absolutely no ability to recall the cause of the hickeys on her neck, nor the source of the bruising that indicated that she had participated in sexual asphyxiation the previous night nor the final disposition of her clothes.

The inattentive have an equal probability of distributing their possessions to the locals. Cell phones and cameras are a common contribution although cash is always welcome. Stories abound of people being slipped mickeys and stripped of their possessions but I find it just as probable that eighteen hours of alcohol consumption render these people incapable of a competent recollection of the events that lead to lost possessions.

I  have several first hand accounts of donation solicitation in the men's room at knife point. Some locals, gringos, felt the gentle bartender impertinent for requesting that they pay their tab and responded with a beer bottle across his face and a beating by four people.

'

While chatting with these girls a strapping guy, blonde maybe 6' 3” and 200 pounds, puffed up and introduced himself thinking that these young women couldn't resist him. He talked. I looked each girl in the eye. Not a one of them wanted a thing to do with him. “You are dismissed.” “Pardon me?” “Your overtures have been unsuccessful.” The uncomprehending countenance evidenced a profound confusion. Like a deer in the headlights, he didn't seem to know which way to turn. He managed to escape the encounter with no more damage than a bruised ego.

Off to the Iguana. The place starts early on the circuit and it was hopping. Nine hours were swallowed in a gulp. The Schweitzer found her objective in the form of a tall, thin, inarticulate black native in a knit cap.

Then a report, yup the Brit had found an accepting target. “I am so going to do him.” Huh I thought she needed her junk surgicaly restored.   Who knows?   Who cares?

Hot number on phone, picked up Edward and some girl with whom I thought I might measure some success. Ended up walking in a contrary direction to get to my boat. Edward left with the girl. I drove home at three in the morning, my trip guided only by the latent images afforded by intermittent illuminations of intense lightning that strangely had no attendant thunder.

Then a descent into a sort of debauchery, decadence, and certainly nothing that I could publish with the consent of a reasonable attorney. A reasonable attorney! What a concept.