A True Friend

[Cap'n Jib]

El cuento de Marc

It is safe now to tell a few stories about my best friend (gringo) here in Panama. Safe because he has moved back to Europe.

We will call him Marc.

His wife stated repeatedly that Marc and I were absolutely identical. Sometimes, ok all the time, I have no idea what women are talking about.

I’m 6 foot and Marc is 5’4”, on a tall day. I’m 200 pounds of atrophied mussel and Marc is 175 pounds of chiseled power. Marc retired at the age of 34 which is exactly 19 years before I retired…the *******. He got a scholarship and received his first degree in Art Design and I got mine in Anthropology. Yep, we are identical all right!



El cuento de Marc 1

Phone rings at around 6 am. Marc says “I did it again’!

Our relationship is such that neither he nor I would ask WHAT was ‘done again’? If I were to ask he would not tell….and neither would I for that matter.

“My wife will tell you later” he says. And this is the way we ‘sort of/or almost communicate’ important information which COULD provide evidence as to how stupid we have been. All in all, a fairly effective system with safeguards provided for the dumb and dumber.

Marc had grown bored after the first 15 minutes of living in Paradise (Panama) having just moved from Europe. He decided that, he would dabble in the construction trade from time to time, while in retirement. He primarily worked with gringos who had been taken by the locals and had had enough. That market niche should have kept him busy 24 hours a day…..and it did. His crew was a bunch of locals who he had finally settled on after many, many terminations of the less fortunate. Basically it was an extended related family of boys.


His wife came over later in the morning and told the following story.

Marc was taking his ‘strong boss’ to task for not showing up for work for three days. Marc had befriended the guy and was building the strong boss a house for his family so he thought the guy should be motivated to show up for work. Maybe, but the call of the ‘drunk’ runs strong in Panama where rum flows like mothers’ milk. H-m-m-m, possibly the reason for the weekend breast….er rest.

One of the employees who was at least 10 inches taller than Marc and a good 100 pounds heavier, did not like the tone of Marc’s voice nor the berating his immediate boss (and relative) was taking. The guy just…sort of…casually leaned into Marc as if to say enough is enough. And it was.

Marc, reacted with a single punch that allowed the bigger guy to take a three minute nap while still on the time clock. Generosity and labor relation skills.

The next day the gang showed up for work…ON TIME. The strong boss asked if it was OK if Miguel, the napping employee, could continue working with the crew. “Sure, just tell him not to get into my space again”. No Problemooooo!

Marc was an undefeated 3 year European champion in Ultimate Fighting.



El cuento de Marc 2

Our wife’s were and are as thick as thieves. The fun the two of them had can scarcely be described. Often they would make arrangements ‘between the two of them’ and neglect (lol) to tell either Marc or I. Their reason being the either one or both of us, Marc and I, would most likely find some excuse to cancel. Guess they do know us a bit.

This was a special occasion as it was their Marriage Anniversary. He shows up with cement and sand (I already had block and rebar) and said that he had decided WE are going to expand our house. Dah...why didn't I think of it?

While the gals were celebrating the Anniversary…drinking copious amounts of wine, Marc and I laid two walls of block. We did break for the celebration meal. ‘Course we could have acted like real men and worked though the meal, but in my case, I have gotten rather fond of living.


El cuento de Marc 3

Marc had shipped over his Jeep for Europe and had, how shall I say it, some difficulty, getting it registered. He drove it for almost two years with paperwork that left much to be desired….let’s just say that it was a registration in progress. The license plate on the car was still from Europe with its’ 30 numbers and/or letters printed on it. Standing out a bit from Panama’s which has 6 number or letters.

Officer: “Your car registration papers are not in order. Also your license plate is not legal.”
Marc: “Sure they are. Look Again”.
Officer: “ No, they are not in order.”
Marc calls his attorney, who tries to straighten things out and Marc was allowed to drive off under the proviso that he would get a letter of explaination from the attorney.

Three more days this drama continued with the same Officer, Marc and the attorney.
On the morning of the fourth day, when Marc called the attorney, and was told that “él es ocupado”. This means one of three things. One, the attorney does not want to talk to Marc anymore about this matter. Two, he is in conference with another client. Or three, the attorney is taking a dump.

Officer: “You will have to leave the car here. Give me the keys”.
Marc: “You want them? There they are’ as he throws them out in the brush.

He then sets of walking across land (5 kilometers) where the snakes and the scorpions play. Feel sorry for any of those creatures he might have met along the way.

[Tinto]

That's not fair Cap'n. Leaving us hanging like that! I was about to make another cup of Kopi Luwak and really settle in with your yarn then bam, you cut the story short! Knowing you though your next installment will take place soon. Thanks for the morning smile.

[LastLion]

Funny, how some latinos learn work ethics.. Nothing motivates them like and ultimate smack to the head..

I guess!!

[KPunch2]

Originally Posted by LastLion

Funny, how some Latinos learn work ethics.. Nothing motivates them like and ultimate smack to the head..

I guess!!

Oh brother . . .

Per Cap'n Jib, If you think Panamanians lack work ethic, you better not commit yourself to do any business with Nicaraguans, Hondurans or Salvadorians and Guatemalans. If you do [unfortunately], just shoot yourself in the foot, it's less painful that way.

[Cap'n Jib]

As usual Tinto suspected there were a few items conveniently left out of my post. I will work harder at covering my intentions in the future.


For over 40 years I have had the philosophy that friends are people you do NOT do CERTAIN things with. A few examples being one does not put down religion, if a friend is religious or not discussing the benefits of your having good health when a friend has just been informed they have cancer. In two words TACT and RESPECT!


El cuento de Marc 4

Marc: “Hey, you have to go boating with us. You know the sea and you will enjoy it.”
Me: “Nope!”
Marc: “Why not?”
Me: “I do not see spending 12 hours at sea with 4 other alpha males who have ZERO experience on ‘the big pond’, as being relaxing.”

I did, however, give him a minimum check list of items I thought prudent. The story goes like this. Some 16 hours after Marc’s anticipated return home.

Before leaving the dock Marc asked the owner of the boat…the owners’ first boat and only boat, the following questions.

Is the tank filled with gasoline? Sufficient life jackets? Do you have a spare battery? Do you have a VHF set to local frequencies? Do you have a chart of the area? Most of you are probably ahead of me at this point, especially the likes of John Wayne and El Cap.

The owner, let’s call him ‘the Great One’ took the helm immediately and managed to run the boat up on a sand bar less than 1/8 mile from the point of commencement. In plain view of the audience at the marina….a stupid and sacrilegious act.

It was decided that Marc being the younger by a minimum of 20 years should get out of the boat and push them off the sand bar. At 7:30 am, Marc was in the brackish water, among the snakes and creepy crawlies. After numerous solo tries, he could not budge the boat and told the rest of them they had to get out of the boat and help. A mini-mutiny took place and after much discussion the reluctantly agreed and dismounted on the side of the boat that could not be viewed from the marina. Turns out this was one of the better parts of the day. Three more attempts were made to get out of the estuary before success was accomplished. Ah life on the sea….er.. more accurately, beach.

It was decided by the Capitan courageous (the Great One) that they would explore outside the barrier islands. After just getting out of sight of these islands, the following occurred. Ran out of gas, the battery was low on charge and the second battery was found not be have been charged at all. The VHF didn’t work and just in case it did, there was no DC plug to recharge it IF the main or back up battery had the power. The chart was a tourist map thing which cleverly showed location of the best restaurants…..provided of course one was able to make it back to shore.

Only one of the cell phones worked at that range,,,sort of, and when Marc reluctantly called this wife, the reception was so poor that when he said they were lost she understood him to say something about a boss. Oh Well.

Four or five hours later another boat came by and gave them some fuel and a start to their tired battery. They cheerfully made the return trip with the pride of men who had overcome huge obstacles, due to manly know (NO) how, while at sea (and a flat one at that) but most importantly lived to tell the tale. At dusk and 25 kilometers south of their point of origin, the engine had gas pains. Apparently the gas mixture was a bit light on the oil. A somewhat expensive item to be faced later.

It should be said that the other two misfits, aside from ‘the Great One’, would volunteer their opinions and ‘decisions’ frequently only to be over ruled by “the Great One’. Nothing like the sea to seemingly increase a nubie’s knowledge of all things nautical.

Managing to find the ONLY coral outcropping for about 5 or 7 kilometers around, they grounded ashore. Being the most fit, Marc climbed over board and towed the dang boat manually over the coral to the incessant commands of ‘the Great One’.

Marc, cut up from the coral and bleeding a bit could only imagine the blood scent he was leaving for those creatures who might have been a bit hungry. It was at this point Marc, having reached his quotient of manly restraint told ‘the Great One’ that if he didn’t shut up, “the Great One’ would be left on the coral outcropping to die. A threat from Marc is something akin to a god guaranteed event. The silence was deafening for almost 30 minutes, while Marc swore, grunted and bled under his efforts. And then fate, smiled upon the Giligan’s Island crew.

Having no lights to be seen, a passing boat heard Marc swearing. Those who do not know the power of cursing are naïve indeed. Their boat was towed back to the marina. Somehow, in the thick of giving orders and the weight of decision making, ‘the Great One’ managed to lose his car keys.

Marc, the ONLY one who spoke Spanish, got a taxi and was prepared to pay for a 50 Kilometer ride back to his house. The ‘Great One’ objected saying that they should spend the rest of the night in the car and try to get the car started in the morning. Marc explained that if he spent the night in the car with ‘the Great One’, one of them would be dead in the morning. There was little doubt as to who would be referred to in the future as 'the dearly departed'.

Like I said before Marc and I are different and he also has a great big heart…...I would have taken out the whole crew.

[Jim]

If you think Panamanians lack work ethic, you better not commit yourself to do any business with Nicaraguans, Hondurans or Salvadorians and Guatemalans.

Or the Philippines. There is a good reason for this which doesn;t have anything to do with laziness. Hard work is eventually rewarded in the US and it is seldom rewarded in the third world.

When I was new to the Phils, my first GF Divina told me that iin the Philippines your life was about here [holding her hand parallel to the ground about waist high]. And if you work really realy hard your life in about here [same gesture]. It is a fact of life that most people in all these countries are born poor and have virtually no chance of escaping poverty no matter how hard they work.

This is one reason I would never work or own a business in the third world.

[Tinto]

Originally Posted by Cap'n Jib;

As usual Tinto suspected there were a few items conveniently left out of my post. I will work harder at covering my intentions in the future.

You can't fool the professor, Skipper! I know you are stretching out this story for the sole reason of bumping up your post count! Cuba, you've been warned!


Keep 'em coming Skip!

[Tinto]

Speaking of post whoring...

Many a young boy's heart throb way back when...




74-year-old Ginger (Tina Louise) & 69-year-old Mary Ann (Dawn Wells).

Has it been THAT long?

[Cap'n Jib]

Happy Hour is an important event looked forward to by the expat community with great anticipation. These events are not to be missed. First, if you do not show up, the topic of conversation will inevitable be you. Second, if one is present, piling on of those not there, can be a great form of amusement.

I have attended two of the Happy Hour secession. The first was to see what was what. The second, after a year hiatus, occurred by accident. I forgot what day it was and ended up there. I quickly explained that the family had to leave and we would not be able to stay. Naturally, I told everyone a different story for our leaving, ranging from ‘We have to leave because I just had an accident and needed to shower and change underwear’ to ‘my wife is planning on getting pregnant tonight and I want to be there when it happens’. Gives them something to talk about.

Marc, being the social butterfly he is, goes to most of the Happy Hours. His wife gave up on the idea of going with him, first, because of the type of people attending and second, because of Marc’s….let’s see….antics seems to be the appropriate word. She has tried to get me to accompany him and keep him out of trouble…I am naive it is true….but not THAT naïve. Besides when we are together, trouble seems to occur exponentially. Why that is I do not know?


El cuento de Marc 5A

These events were confirmed by the Happy Hour wait staff as well as attendees.

With everyone trying to impress everyone else, discussions can become heated. My house is bigger, better, and costs more, translates to I am bigger, better and wealthier than you are. Marc’s first solo appearance, when he was an unknown quantity to the group, is a good example. He didn’t continue responding like the rest of the idiots and sat quietly with a smile on his face for 20 minutes or so. One of the loud mouths asked him why he hadn’t said something to defend himself, his response was. “I am savoring the idea of picking you up and throwing you into the canyon.”


El cuento de Marc 5B

A self professed former CIA assassin, (AND certified bull ****ter) said he had personally dispatched 67 individuals. Marc said “Feel lucky? Want to try for number 68?”


El cuento de Marc 5C

A different time, another Happy Hour attendee was particularly drunk and obnoxious, and took offense at Marc being quiet and not fawning over the exploits being proffered. One of Marc’s special gifts is that he does not HAVE to look for trouble. The man is indeed gifted.

When the next week’s event took place, Marc said absolutely nothing the whole time. He did however, excuse himself for 10 minutes. When time came for the loud mouth to leave, apparently two 50 pound bags of the ripest chick **** had mysteriously, or may be not so, been dumped into loudmouths’ golf cart.

A personal note here. Two days later the odor was still pungent.

* * * *

In a day or so, I will cover the employment issues raised by KPunch2 and LastLion. It has to be LIVED to be believed!

[John Wayne]

Cap, Jib....You are a hell of a Sea Story teller.....

I love your posts man....