Lead shill for the FreeMatt Podcast. Loves beauty in many things. Somalia's #1 libertarian personality.
One looks back at where he came from, then wonders how he got here. He is shocked, seeing something unbelievable, nothing like he had seen before.
None of what I saw should have surprised me, but the sightly pleasures did. It was nothing I had prepared for, considering my upbringing in a somewhat homogenous, xenophobic environment. The past lent to the shock and confusion.
It was late in the day when we crossed the outskirts of Colon, Panama. We were greeted with poorly treated bunker oil fumes and a viewing of various hulks of cargo shipwrecks. The day showed me nothing that would lend to a sense of excitement.
After an exasperatingly long transit through the “grand ditch”, we were forced with tedious labors of necessity that no one escapes. Upon completion of our tasks, I was surprised to find out that we had been granted what felt like a furlough from prison.
We had piled into a bizarre model of van to speed through the lush surroundings of Ciudad Panama, to race across the Bridge of Americas, searching for some stopping point on our deployment. We found an area that qualified as such. Although we didn’t stay in that area long, we had time to find a taxi, affording us an opportunity to view navigational landmarks and a peculiar group of women standing around for a reason unknown to me.
The taxi driver knew where we were headed. It didn’t take the broken Spanish conversation we had for him to find out. He had made the trip a few thousand times. On our way there, the gentleman regaled us with a story of our destination’s original location and its demise by a suspicious fire. He seemed pleased, either by a combination of our money plus alcohol, or a distant memory of bliss contained in its walls.
After that short journey, he wished us well. It wasn’t a short time later that we got accosted by a voluptuous vixen with an unkind face outside of our preferred den. She tried to draw us away for a sidetracked ecstatic adventure in the alley way. She laughed after we rejected her offer. We had reason to believe we had better in store in the near future.
That future was a minute away as we strolled up to a poorly marked building with a narrow staircase behind an open door. A man abruptly popped out of nowhere, asking for a modest fee to be paid. I thought nothing of it until I noticed his friend was carrying what appeared to be a MP5. (Please note: I often feel safer in places where I know someone is carrying a submachine gun, after all plenty of churches have experienced shootings and terror around the world). Outside of checking our bags, he didn’t see us as a potential recipient of a lead cloverleaf.
We were relieved to be let loose. But I was a nervous wreck of sorts, my personal and professional life degrading itself month by month. The loud music and dark interior with medium grade furniture didn’t excite me, but what laid beyond it did.
I stumbled to find a seat when I spied what brought the weary legions to this citadel; a component of young beauties. We found ourselves easily captivated, there was something for every taste and many found it easily.
The experience butted up against the less stimulating upbringing I had. The perfume flowed more than my nostrils ever knew. My eyes enjoyed a latin version of Rubenesque, more than some of my slovenly disappointments. The woman’s demeanor was more than a learned sourness that is commonly found in the common western world. A raw grind had only been seen once during my docile years, but duplicated easier in this environ.
We never know if the reason why we had so much of a great time was the fact that we stopped being the killers we were made out to be or if our receptors were so starved for stimulation that dopamine sprouted forth in joy. But we know that the den of iniquity was an experience that most modern gentry were destined to know.
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