Blowing Over

The Policia, with his stern face, gave away some resemblance of humanity when I looked into his eyes. Perhaps this assisted in a positive final outcome. Out of nowhere, at around 7 pm, red pylons show up on the left hand side of the road, and a Policia is standing there in his dark green fatigues and cap. He proceeds to show me his radar, clocked at 76. Limit on the non-existent sign (or a sign that, like other signs here have been worn down to braille) was 60. Three other plainsclothes were there as well, and the one asked me for my passport to which I responded "why are you wearing regular clothes?" to which he promptly unzipped his nike sweater and pulled out ID. The Policia and I walk together into the square office, thankfully getting away from the crowd of others, and I'm definitely feeling the heat in this place right out of the third world. Wires hanging out of the walls, a small desk with antiquated paperwork and books on top. He opens his book to show the fine for speeding: $50. Okay. I got too close.

1/2 hour before, I almost dropped the bike to stop at a place with xmas lights thinking I could grab a bite, only to find they sold alcohol only. Well, what to do? Have a cuba libre, and try one of the local drinks. 2 total. He smelt it on my breath.

So, he pulls out the breathalyzer, an experience to wreak havoc on any Canadian's state of mind. It takes forever and numerous attempts, as he shows me how to breath properly into it. Finally, he gets the reading he wants, and shows it to me: 8. Whatever that meant, he was soon getting quite agitated; we were now both fully putting on our best acting performances of the year: him, trying to extort as much pain and suffering from me as possible, and I, trying to get some connection with this guy as a last resort. He shows me another number in his book for driving under the influence: $1500, with the last 0 blocked out in blue pen, accompanied with a 350 km trip into Panama City.

I ask him if I can pay him here and now. He says if you don't mind I don't mind. So, I ask if $100 is ok, and he replies "too much". I end up giving him what I had on me, 2 crisp twenties and a fiver. Complicating my escape, I temporarily hide my passport and license somewhere and have the whole group assist me in finally finding it in the front pouch of my bag.