So I haven’t written anything in a while. I’d give some witty reason but let’s face facts, you don’t fucking care and I definitely don’t fucking care if you care so let’s skip the pleasantries and dive right into what just occurred to me over the past week. So a particular friend of mine has what can only be described as a fetish for Latino women and this preference has led us on a fair amount of trips south of the border (of the United States that is). So when he came to us a few months ago with the idea that a group of us spend some time in Costa Rica we assumed that he had done his research and put the whole thing together with one thing in mind. And done his homework he had but nothing could prepare us for the culture fuck that was Jaco, Costa Rica. Now Jaco is one of the nicer (for surfing) surf spots on the Pacific coast and is frequented by some of the best in the world. We went during the down season because we figured we wouldn’t be bothered by pesky tourists (since we’re such travelers and all) and it’s also cheaper and the more money we save on the flight the more we have to blow on hookers and booze. So the six of us woke up at three in the morning and caught a ride to Newark for a six o’clock flight to Miami before embarking on the final leg to Costa Rica. We got to the country around noon their time and had to catch a ride an hour or so from the city over the mountains and through the fucking woods to our destination. So we got there, caught a bite to eat, threw our shit into our rooms (two of them, three men per, this will come up later) and set about buying beer, rum and cokes (which come in a can), and various other beverages that would last us the week.

When the time came to decide upon the evenings festivities we were admittedly a little torn. Two of my friends had met an old surfer guy from the States who had moved down to Jaco and had offered to give us a ride over to the next town for what promised to be a pretty decent party. However, the other four of us were pretty set on going to the famed hooker bar down the street and easing into our first night. Little did we know, there would be no easing for anyone. We argued for a bit and decided that we would hitch a ride over to the next town but when the dude showed up piss drunk explaining that we had to stop at his house in the jungle before continuing onto the bar three of us declined his invitation and decided to head to the hooker bar leaving only two of my friends to accompany the surfer to wherever the fuck he was going. We thought we had dodged a bullet and taken the safe road, settling for a walk to the bar. Well we went and had a few drinks and talked to a few hookers (and nothing against hookers it’s just that in these countries there’s no such thing as a free meal if you catch my drift) and decided to see what else the town had to offer. In the minute and a half that we’re walking I fall a bit behind the others and in my drunken state I didn’t see the two hookers coming up to rob my fucking ass. And I know, I know, you’re probably thinking how are you going to let some fucks just steal from you and whatnot and you know what I don’t even fucking know how it went down. All I know is these girls (they might have been dudes and even if they weren’t let’s pretend they were for the sake of the story) walk up to me, grab my junk, bitch throws an arm bar on me like Ricky “The Dragon” Steamboat and literally two seconds later I’m fucking broke. Granted I’m pretty pissed. So I drink a glass of whiskey on somebody’s dime and head back to the room completely dejected. A couple hours later one of my friends show up at my door (he was staying in the other room) shirtless and pretty fucking shook up. Turns out he’d gone with the surfer guy to the bar and had a good enough time of things but had somehow lost my other friend upon returning to Jaco and had been held at gunpoint, forced into a car by a group of Costa Ricans, made to give up his two shirts (I guess because he didn’t have any money—I can’t be sure at this point) before the cops (who knew his name) snatched him out of the car, took him to the station and finally dropped him off at our hotel. Meanwhile my other friend, who had bought a hooker who blew him for like a minute and took off, is on the second floor of the hotel (we were on the first) jerking off outside of some stranger’s room. And this is the first night mind you. THE FIRST NIGHT! So let’s recap: I’m $120 lighter, Friend A was held at gunpoint and taken in by corrupt cops (who could have set the whole thing up for all we know) and Friend B is jerking off on the balcony. And we’d been there less than twenty-four hours.

The next night we decided to go to a different bar. But first, I should really take a moment to describe what these bars are like. Either, a) hookers are seated along the walls waiting for tourists to patronize them or b) the hookers are in the middle dancing with old white (this isn’t racist, simply a fact) guys while local toughs circle around looking for the weak ones in the herd (and yes, I know, I’m a weak one apparently) to prey upon later like rabid hyenas eyeing up a paraplegic gazelle. This time we were lucky enough to escape with only one of my friends being drugged (evidently they slip shit into your drinks so that they can take advantage of you later—this may or may not be true and he may not have been drugged but at this point I wouldn’t put it past them) and made our way back. That or I was also drugged and literally can’t remember anything else that fucking happened. The following night we make a similar bar excursion and one of my friends buys a bunch of drugs and a hooker and they stay up all night in the corner of my room talking about “life” and what have you before she freaks the fuck out, demands $160 and leaves but not before taking his phone. The next day we actually get to the beach only for two of us (myself included) to have our shoes stolen. That’s not exactly the end of the story but suffice to say by this time people are pretty pissy and sort of just take it easy for the next couple nights. After all we had just been literally ass raped by an entire town. When it comes time to leave we take the ride back to the airport and catch our flight to Miami only the weather doesn’t allow us to land in Miami right away so we need to refuel in Fort Lauderdale arriving in Miami just in time to miss our connecting flight to Newark forcing us to spend a night in a Red Roof Inn (no vouchers were issued because American Airlines sucks balls). Thankfully the fucking Bennigans next door is open till two in the morning serving up gobs of disgusting shit because we hadn’t eaten in fucking forever (again, because American Airlines is fucking terrible) haven’t spent something like nine hours in the air (discounting the two hour drive).

Now, what’s the point of this? Partially it’s because the veterans from my Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder Tuesdays recommended I journal the experience as a means of dealing with my sense of loss. But also it’s because I want to make a point about Central America and prostitution and whatever else may have influenced what occurred. Sure, we put ourselves in some bad situations and truthfully that’s the reason that it’s difficult to pin the whole thing on Costa Rica. However, this is supposedly not a very poor nation. They got rid of their army in the 40’s and out of all the Central American countries Costa Rica is by far the most affluent. Notice I said Costa Rica and not Costa Ricans. Though Costa Rica has had at least 59 years of uninterrupted democracy, making it one of the most stable countries in the region, and is one of the only Latin American countries that has been able to avoid the widespread violence that has plagued most of the region it still has the fourth highest inflation rate in Central America and unemployment and poverty percentages that are off the charts. So who cares? Well you should. Everybody who wants to bitch about illegal immigrants should take a look at the poor state of the developing nations of the world. You really can’t blame laziness (although I’m sure some will try). You need to point your finger at the international institutions and imperial powers that are responsible for turning these areas into the backwards ass places they currently are. And as for prostitution. I’m all for it. Even after all that. I support and respect the sex industry for many reasons. It’s just a shame that, again, given the state of the economies of these countries literally everybody is a prostitute (seriously there’s orthodontists from the city who hook on the weekends) and everybody is looking for a way to make some money, even if it means preying on dip shit gringos. And who knows maybe they still would even if the inflation and unemployment rates were kept in check. All I know is that it isn’t helping matters. Now, I know. You don’t care. And maybe you shouldn’t. All I’m saying is that you might want to give it some thought because eventually the shits gonna hit the fan and something (like illegal immigrants flooding your city looking for work) might happen to you. Let’s just hope that it doesn’t involve two dudes juggling your sack. Nobody deserves that. Alright…I probably do.

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