A friend was going to take three people out on a cruise for the day in gratitude for their assistance in the recovery of a stolen dinghy.
I showed up a Casa Verde at the appointed hour and my day began with
She: "Here are your sandals."
He: "Thanks. Where were they?"
She: "In the trash."
He: "Thanks, I didn't know where I put them."
Me: "Why did you put them in the trash?"
He: "It's my birthday. I am drunk."
The Water Taxi 25 boat, a behemoth that seats 80 and is powered by twin 350 HP V8 outboards crowded into a sleep, bore down on me, and tied off, unleashing a torrent of Panamanians from Panama City intent on celebrating Panamananian independence from Colombia. The crowd and their luggage reduced the dock to mayhem for half an hour.
I left to provision for our sailing trip. A friend had agreed to take three people to Starfish Beach on a boat stocked with rum and pretty young things. Upon my return there were a dozen people sitting in my boat. I rushed over and confronted them "What the fuck are you doing?" My friend Carlos came over and advised me that these people were his son and friends and that they were going on the boat. Oh, ok, I'll shuttle them over. The stoned kids looked very relieved that I didn't rip their heads off.
My boat was to function as the tender as the dinghy's were not operational. I tied her off and she was towed behind the sixty five foot trawler. I set up camp and dozed for a bit. When I awoke I saw Carlos standing by the back of the boat with lines in hand. The man is far from a sailor. I popped up to observe his activities. He was keeping the lines clear of the "What the fuck are you doing?" I yelled. Damn, my boat smacked into a swimming deck support that was missing the deck. "It's ok, everything is ok." "No, Carlos, see that fiberglass on the support and one over there. Yup, two holes punched right through the hull. Jesus, Christ!"
Chris came down. "I asked him to watch the lines so the wouldn't get caught in the prop." Wrong guy or wrong task. Oh well, it's but a couple of hours of fiberglass work.
We spent the day on the beach flirting with the girls picked up a few extra and returned to town.
On the way the three guests of honor were severely inebriated. One of them poured out the last of two rum bottles into glasses and through the bottles into the ocean with a triumphant double fist in the air. "What the fuck are you doing?" I sternly rebuked him, "Malo, malo, el mar no este para la basura." He sulked. I was castigated, "Do you know who that is?" "Yeah, I know, that doesn't give him the right to use the ocean as a trash can."
I took the first load of passengers to the dock and returned for the profoundly inebriated. Helping the girls was one thing but these three guys were completely hammered. I had to catch one by the armpits. His sandals fell into the ocean. Another stumbled on, tripped and I had to catch him and make him sit down. The third fell on the other two.
I made my way to the dock one of the guys stepped off, missed the dock, almost smashed his face and tried to climb out of the water by hanging onto a hammock. It's pretty damn easy to just pop up on the dock. If one is really out of shape a ladder is available.
The soaking guy tripped over a chair, a second walked into the bathroom and fell down, his legs sticking out of the door and the third asked if I was his friend and would I buy each of them a beer. "No, vamoose. Necessito dormile. Muy barracho."
Cops. I guess they are the same world over.
I showed up a Casa Verde at the appointed hour and my day began with
She: "Here are your sandals."
He: "Thanks. Where were they?"
She: "In the trash."
He: "Thanks, I didn't know where I put them."
Me: "Why did you put them in the trash?"
He: "It's my birthday. I am drunk."
The Water Taxi 25 boat, a behemoth that seats 80 and is powered by twin 350 HP V8 outboards crowded into a sleep, bore down on me, and tied off, unleashing a torrent of Panamanians from Panama City intent on celebrating Panamananian independence from Colombia. The crowd and their luggage reduced the dock to mayhem for half an hour.
I left to provision for our sailing trip. A friend had agreed to take three people to Starfish Beach on a boat stocked with rum and pretty young things. Upon my return there were a dozen people sitting in my boat. I rushed over and confronted them "What the fuck are you doing?" My friend Carlos came over and advised me that these people were his son and friends and that they were going on the boat. Oh, ok, I'll shuttle them over. The stoned kids looked very relieved that I didn't rip their heads off.
My boat was to function as the tender as the dinghy's were not operational. I tied her off and she was towed behind the sixty five foot trawler. I set up camp and dozed for a bit. When I awoke I saw Carlos standing by the back of the boat with lines in hand. The man is far from a sailor. I popped up to observe his activities. He was keeping the lines clear of the "What the fuck are you doing?" I yelled. Damn, my boat smacked into a swimming deck support that was missing the deck. "It's ok, everything is ok." "No, Carlos, see that fiberglass on the support and one over there. Yup, two holes punched right through the hull. Jesus, Christ!"
Chris came down. "I asked him to watch the lines so the wouldn't get caught in the prop." Wrong guy or wrong task. Oh well, it's but a couple of hours of fiberglass work.
We spent the day on the beach flirting with the girls picked up a few extra and returned to town.
On the way the three guests of honor were severely inebriated. One of them poured out the last of two rum bottles into glasses and through the bottles into the ocean with a triumphant double fist in the air. "What the fuck are you doing?" I sternly rebuked him, "Malo, malo, el mar no este para la basura." He sulked. I was castigated, "Do you know who that is?" "Yeah, I know, that doesn't give him the right to use the ocean as a trash can."
I took the first load of passengers to the dock and returned for the profoundly inebriated. Helping the girls was one thing but these three guys were completely hammered. I had to catch one by the armpits. His sandals fell into the ocean. Another stumbled on, tripped and I had to catch him and make him sit down. The third fell on the other two.
I made my way to the dock one of the guys stepped off, missed the dock, almost smashed his face and tried to climb out of the water by hanging onto a hammock. It's pretty damn easy to just pop up on the dock. If one is really out of shape a ladder is available.
The soaking guy tripped over a chair, a second walked into the bathroom and fell down, his legs sticking out of the door and the third asked if I was his friend and would I buy each of them a beer. "No, vamoose. Necessito dormile. Muy barracho."
Cops. I guess they are the same world over.
