Paciencia

My rule of thumb - and for those of you who don't know the origin of that phrase, it was once a law that you couldn't beat your wife with any stick thicker than your thumb - is that if you have to go to lovely and talented Daveed for more than two tasks, plan on spending the day. Paciencia, patience, is seriously required. Seriously required. Did I mention seriously required?

George Brewster, a Panamanian who speaks fluent English, and I set out in his tired Chrysler Something Small with no back bumper, windows you pulled up by grabbing glass with your hands and George's own propensity for driving fast. Very fast. Our mission, which we had chosen to accept, was to rescue friend V's car from the Ministerio of Something I've Forgotten where cars that had been stolen, but recovered were now housed. To accomplish this mission we had to do two things before hand. First we had to renew my expired driver's license at the Bureau of Expired Driver's Licenses and then we had to buy a new battery for V's car as the old one was muerte, which is Spanish for kaput.

At the License Bureau, after waiting in line, we were told that my application for a new one would have to be processed in Panama City and I would have it in about a week...or so. We could, however, go around the corner to another motor vehicle office where Olga could fix me up with a one day temporary pass to drive. Alrighty then, on to Olga.

We found Olga and a long line in front of her desk. When our turn came, Olga, did something on her computer, determined the system was down, but no te procupe, not to worry, she still had her phone. The line to Pan City, however, was busy. It remained busy until we said screw it and left to buy a battery.

Our quest had begun at eight. It was now quarter to ten. As Pricesmart was close by, we waited in its parking lot until it opened at ten. They didn't have the right kind of battery. Twenty minutes later we found a parts store that did. We made our purchase and were off to the Ministerio.

We entered and passed through the metal detector which I miraculously did not set off. I mean usually my steel corded musculature and iron will have them beeping like crazy. (They do so.) We mentioned the name of the person we needed to see at the security kiosk and were sent to room such and such a flight up. There we found a receptionist after my own heart, she was wearing a winter jacket against the chill of the air conditioner, who told us to have a seat and she would alert Mr. So and So. Some twenty minutes after that, Mr. So and So appeared. He had some paperwork in hand, looked officious and we therefore figured all signs were go. Well wrongo Bureaocracy breath! He asked us where the mechanic was and our quick thinking reply was, "Huh? What mechanic?" He carefully explained that we needed a certified mechanic to examine the car for damage so that any insurance claims we had would be verified. We got on the phone to V's abogada, lawyer, who had arranged this whole pick up. She said she could get us a mechanic by two o,clock. Nevermind, we said. We could find one faster. Behind the Ministerio, but around the corner, was a huge car repair place, Pepe's. After waiting in Pepe's office awhile, he assigned a mechanic to us with a set price of $40 dollars. This was ten dollars cheaper than the lawyer had said her guy would be, so we agreed. We returned to the Ministerio, rounded up Mr. So and So and attempted to install the new battery. I don't know the Spanish for alas, I'll look it up later, alas, a pause and a long sigh are always required after saying alas.....The battery terminals were on the wrong side for this model car. We would have to go back and exchange it. However on the bright side, Mr. So and So said the mechanic's five minute inspection of the non running car would suffice and he need not return. As it was now nearing noon when the Ministerio shut down for two hours of almuerzo, lunch, two o,clock was our new target time.

We exchanged the battery, dined leisurely at Pizza Hut and returned to the Ministerio at twenty minutes to the hour. After watching a telenovela, soap opera, and discussing women, George's favorite topic, we hooked up once again with Mr. So and So who led us to the Evidence Room in the basement of a parking garage where the attendant asked me if I had voted for Obama. When I replied of course, he gave out with a small cheer. After that I signed several papers and then we waited as Mr. So and So went off with them to make copies. Upon his return we were taken to the car where we installed the battery and determined the car needed gas and power steering fluid. No one asked me to show my driver's license, so I drove off in search of the nearest petrol.

V was in Bocas and our plan was to leave her car at the airport so it would be there to drive when she returned. I hit the first gas station between the Ministerio and the airport and put in enough gas to make the needle move off empty. The station, however, had no power steering fluid so we had to back track and find another. When we eventually made it to the airport, I left the car keys at the National Car Rental Booth, part of the plan. I then hopped back into George's jalopy and we headed home.

First though, we stopped at KFC so I could take a bucket home to Woowoo Charly and RTGFKAR who are addicted to the 13 Herbs and Spices the chicken is reputed to have. This I knew, would make me a hero and if you can be a hero by simply going to a Drive-thru I'm all for it.

We were back in Boquete at five. Eight to five, a full day. Coulda, woulda, shoulda, if you are into that, taken no more than three hours. Four at the most.

Lucky for me I have paciencia. (I do so!)I knew this was an all dayer. George, on the other hand, displayed some frustration throughout the day, but always in good humor. George, I should point out is 36. At 36 was I patient?

Sure I was.