All I knew was that I needed my special, patented, airplane-riding-survival medicine in order to get there. Because flying is terrible, and it's just better to ship my intoxicated corpse overseas than it is for me to be coherent.
|Carry-on essentials. Booze and contact lenses. You need one in order to drink the other. I forget which is which.|
It's also worth noting that our airplane looked to have been bought at some kind of international yard sale. It had such vintage luxuries as armrest ashtrays, prop engines, and free in-flight alcoholic beverages. And despite the fact that things like "safety checks" don't exist over there, that beast flew like a fucking champ. And by that, I mean didn't plunge any of us into the ground.
|Four decades without spontaneous combustion. Who says miracles don't happen?|
Sorry, wrong slide. That was from our trip to D.C. last year and our tour of the Senate building. They are surprisingly trainable, though, once you separate them from the herd.
So we arrived at the islands, where we were given a really nice villa. But more importantly, we got a sweet ass golf cart to drive from the marina back and forth to our villa, which was about a ten minute drive up the mountain.
|Note the pasty legs. They serve as a defense mechanism to blind attacking velociraptors.|
Needless to say, the place was a paradise (i.e. almost completely devoid of idiotic tourists), with beautiful beaches and little villages on all the islands. And boy did the mosquitoes give us a warm welcome.
Only the main island had but a couple of paved roads (including the runway) so pretty much everywhere else we went we had to take boat taxis. And believe me, you haven't lived until you've ridden in a fiberglass shell doing fifty miles an hour... in the middle of the pitch black night... on open ocean water... with no lights.
We took an awesome boat tour (during the daytime) where we got to see a lot of cool wildlife. Like the tour guide's boat shop, which is said to house over a thousand unique venereal diseases.
On the tour, we snorkeled, hung out at remote beaches, and met a lot of other locals and South American vacationers who made us practice our Spanish. I can even say "I now have explosive diarrhea, please let me die."*
*Ahora tengo diarrea explosiva. Por favor, déjame morir!
The wildlife we saw on our trip included dolphins, lots of starfish, and even a sloth who was too busy jacking off to pose for a decent picture. That's right. Think about that one for a minute. For a sloth, it literally takes a full minute to capture a single downward stroke. Poor guy.
I even had to fight a parrot for a beer...
|I may have lost an eye, but dammit it was worth it.|
The beer in Panama is, well...it's beer. Let's just say that Adolph Coors* himself would be proud.
*No relation to Adolf Hitler, even though both men ultimately mass-produced terrible things
Fortunately, Heidi did some googling and found out there was one lone micro brewery on the islands. And go figure, the owners previously came from Beer Mecca, our hometown of Denver.
|I found a bottle of Panamanian swill outside the brewery and kindly disposed of it.|
We spent most of our days by the seaside, drinking rum out of coconuts and yelling drunkenly at exotic birds. We did a little jungle hiking, which resulted in a busted flip-flop (not the best hiking apparel), but we did make it far enough to wander on some private land that probably did not need us wandering on it.
|I don't know how you say "buckshot in your ass" in Spanish, but I didn't want to find out.|
Any of the married folk here had an interesting honeymoon experience?
Cheers and stay classy, folks!
Music: Van Halen