Larry's Central American Travels

A Classic - Too Good To Pass Up

A classic my son sent me straight from Charlotte, N.C. (Just try reading  this without laughing till you cry!!!) 

Last weekend I saw  something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was  looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What  I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer. 

The effects of the  tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term  adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time  to retreat to safety.

WAY TOO COOL! Long  story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the  button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however,  that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal  surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of
electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. 

AWESOME!!!  Unfortunately, I  have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the  face of her microwave.  Okay, so I was home alone with  this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all  that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right? There I  sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on
intently  (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions  and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a  flesh & blood moving target.

I must admit I  thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second)  and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I  was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself  against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would  work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a  pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in  one hand, and tazer in  another. The directions said that a one-second burst would  shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was  supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily  control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your  assailant flop on the  ground like a fish out of water... Any burst longer than three  seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I'm  looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less  than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and  (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to  myself, 'no possible way!' What happened next is almost  beyond description, but I'll do my  best.

I'm sitting there  alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as  to say, 'don't do it dipshit,' reasoning that a one second  burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all  that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just  for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh,  pushed the button, and . . . . . .

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD .  . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . .. . WHAT THE HELL!!!  I'm  pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door,  picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on  the carpet, over and over and over again.. I vaguely recall  waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my  eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body  in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs? The cat was  making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to  a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an  attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all  over the living room.

Note: If you ever  feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a tazer, one note of  caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst when  you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it  is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on  the floor.. A three second burst would be considered  conservative?

IT HURT LIKE HELL!!!  A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a  relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what  little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My  bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace.  The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and  both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had  been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88  lbs. I had no control over the drooling.

Apparently I pooped  on myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of  smell was gone... I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head  which I believe came from my hair. I'm still looking for my  nuts and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe  return!

p.s. My wife, can't  stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift, and now  regularly threatens me with it!   If you think  education is difficult, try being stupid  !!

Till Next Time.  Pura Vida.

  

Back In The USA - Temporarily!

Fun And Games = Life!

Ten days before I was scheduled to depart on my semi-annual return to the U.S., my computer was stolen out of my hotel room.  Some one picked the lock in the door handle, stepped in the room, unplugged the computer, put it in the computer bag and was probably gone in less than two minutes.  I had failed to lock the deadbolt (2nd lock), since I was just going down stairs.  Duh!!

About an hour later, when I partially came out of shock is when the fun really started.  It dawned on me that the computer bag was where I stored, among other things, my camera, a second (backup) ATM card, my checkbook, my U.S. cell phone, and - gulp! - my passport!  So, my nice quiet week leading up to my planned departure now included an 'emergency' trip to the U.S. embassy in Panama City to get a replacement passport.

I took the early morning flight to Panama City (instead of the 7 hour red-eye bus trip) and got a cab to the embassy.  The U.S. embassy sits back on a big hill in a fairly isolated part of town.  The tranquility of the manicured embassy grounds did not transfer to the interior of the immigration office however.  To say it was a zoo would probably get me in trouble with PETA.  And, I knew this was not going to be my day when the first words out of the clerk's mouth was 'passport photos.'  Duh!  Like one doesn't know photos are required?  Well, one also didn't think to go to the little shop across the street from the hotel in David and get photos.  It is more fun to run around with your hair on fire in a cab in a strange city and find a photo shop.

When I finally got all the paperwork straight, I had to have an interview with a consulate official.  He evidently felt sorry for me because he said he would have the replacement passport ready by 3PM that afternoon.  Wow, good news!  I had been told by gringo friends in David that it normally took about two days.  However, I didn't realize that the embassy closes at three, which meant that there was absolutely no reason for any taxis to be out there in the boondocks after the embassy closes.  And, there weren't any.  When I finally lassoed a taxi I got back to the airport just in time to miss the last flight of the day to David.  So, a night in Panama City.

The next morning I got to the airport early to make sure I made the 10AM flight.  Processed in, got a boarding pass and waited around for them to call the flight.  When I got to the security point and emptied my pockets, etc. the immigration guy stops me.  There are no immigration stamps in my passport.  "No, pasaporte es nuevo, ayer," I explain. (passport is new yesterday).  He responds, "Pasaporte dicen tú área no aquí."  (Passport says you are not here.)  And off he goes, with my passport in hand, to the immigration office at the end of the terminal.  Few minutes later a lady comes out and finally makes me understand that her problem is that the passport is not in the computer, so they can't verify when or how I came in the country.  I then remember that I still have a copy of the cover page of the old passport in my wallet, so I suggest she try with that passport number.  She comes back a few minutes later with a printout showing when I entered the country, and everyone was now happy.  And, my airplane had just taxied out without me.  The next flight will go at 4:30!!  So I got to spend the next five hours wandering around the huge Albrook Mall, which is adjacent to the airport.  I should add that I hate malls, only slightly less than I hate hanging around airport terminal buildings.  (more on that experience in a later posting).

On the flight back to David, I suddenly realized that if I had that much trouble getting on a local flight within the country, that boarding a flight out of the country the following Monday might be problematic.  Gee, ya' think?  So, I got to spend a good portion of the next day in the immigration office in David.  After a lot of starts and false starts, and two different interpreters, a lady there registered the passport in the computer and gave me a backdated tourist visa so I could leave without a hitch.  It did work out OK, but, I must admit I held my breathe all weekend, certain that something would not look right to someone at the airport. 

Another Video

A quick tour of Peru compliments of a fellow I met on the cruise last April.

A Secret Hideaway In Alejuela, Costa Rica

The flight from David to San Jose gets in too late for me to make my normal U.S. Air connection to Charlotte.  So, I stay at the Hotel Martino about 20 minutes form the airport.  I discovered the place on s search on the internet and it is a blessing.  When you get away from the airport, you get away from the hustle and bustle -and the hustlers, hookers, con men, etc.

One does not even need to leave the hotel - pool, spa, two different dining rooms, a cigar bar, a billiards room and Monday Night football.  Is this heaven or what?  The next morning the hotel shuttle takes me back to the airport, and I am off again.  Great!  And, about half the price of the hotels in the vicinity of the airport!!

      

Till Next Time.  Pura Vida!

 

God Bless America

A Strange World We Live In

This morning I had to walk over to the drug store first thing.  As I crossed the corner of the park, a man I did not know stopped me, shook my hand and babbled something to me that I didn´t understand.  I just kind of shrugged it off to being only half awake and not yet functioning.  However, when I came back through the park, my friend Olivio who is the manager of the park, stopped me.  When he started talking to me as if to console me, I realized what he was saying and realized that the gentleman earlier had made reference to the same thing.   They had both referred to ´Nueve Once´, e.g. 9/11!

Do yourself a favor, take a few minutes and watch this video.  Nuff said!

Till Next Time.  Pura Vida!

The Hit News From David

Let´s Have Lunch At The Bufete

In Panama when lawyers (abogados) partner-up and open an office the sign over the front door identifies the business as a ´Bufete de Abogados´.

Due to the appearance of the name, I envision people going inside and stopping at each of the desks lined up, and taking one here, passing at the next stop, getting two at the third, etc.

Oh well ....never mind.

Another Thing That I Can´t Figure Out

As I surfed past TV Chile the other day I saw something I had never seen before - and can´t figure out.  The program was an interview show based on a scientific subject (I have forgotten what now).  The strange part was that the host was asking long complicated questions In Spanish, and the guest was answering in English.  No subtitles, no voice-overs. Nada!

I surmised that maybe the program was a university or language institute lesson of some type.  But the closing credits made no mention of such.  And, I tuned in the next day early to make sure I saw the opening.  Still no clue.

Anyone out there know, or care to speculate?

My Latest Video

My second video on Argentina.  Yes, I find it fascinating.

The Bolivarian Revolution Marches On!

Venezuela´s president Hugo Chavez is presently popping off around the world on a tour of his allie countries - Libya, Algeria, Russia and Spain (Spain?).  Today he urged the people of Israel to overthrow their war-mongering government.

Not to be outdone, President Evo Morales declared a national holiday next week in Bolivia to celebrate the release of the Libyan terrorist responsible for the Lockerby, Scotland bombing.

The Panamanian Sense of Humor

The Panamanians do not understand American humor.  All you have to do to understand why is to watch a LAtino comedy show.  They all look like those characters that Jerry Lewis used to create back in the 60s.  Fright wigs, big buck teeth, goofy antics, pratfalls, etc.  It also seems to be a requirement that at least one character has to be effeminate, if not an out right flamer-er.

But, yesterday one of the guys had to tell me a joke, and all those assembled went into convulsions.

So here goes:

Question:  Why does a gringo father feel it necessary that he be present in the delivery room when the baby is born? (Which they find incomprehensible)

Answer:  Because he probably wasn´t present when the baby was conceived.

Like I said, you probably have to be there.

FYI:  On Tuesday I am heading back to the States for three weeks.  May not be a whole lot of Panama news in North Carolina. But, you never know?

Till Next Time.  Pura Vida.