When he picked me up at the dock it was already 90 in the shade. The boat looking a little rickety wasn’t my primary concern. An easily recognizable language barrier, a lack of knowledge, a realization that lunch wasn’t included and oppressive heat were not on the top of my worry list.
We made short work of the push off and throttle, off unto a destination that could have just as easily been the bottom of the ocean since I had no one to verify my location nor his credentials. Calm water under the panga and a bit of question as to what he was looking at, the only substantial thoughts for twenty minutes. We pass a bar that looks vaguely panama city –esque on stilts. You know the kind of place that Carson Daly used to stand in front of when you were in 9th grade on the cable TV set around March. It seemed like the place you wanted to be if you were only a little older.
Younger me flashes back… “I cant wait to go there!”What a moron. I ask if he likes this place.
“No, I go to church to make sure I stay out of there.”
“Probably a great idea” I reply.