When we last left our hero, he was preparing for vacation. I never really got into comics and the whole superhero thing. Underdog was about the only one I really followed. Him and Hong Kong Phooey. They had better not try making any movies about those two or I’ll be really pissed. Aww, man… I just did some research and there’s a rumored release of a HKP movie starring Jackie Chan in 2010. Further research yields that an Underdog movie was released last year, but I don’t remember it so Disney is off the hook for now. But I turn aside from the main subject.
So the Mrs. took her board exam on a Wednesday, burned her review books on Thursday and wrung out her brain, and the taxi came to get us bright and early Friday morning for our flight to San Jose, Costa Rica. The flights down were uneventful except for our flight out of Terminal E, Gate 12. Or as it shows on the boarding pass – 12E. No problem except that one of our seats was 12E and several people that don’t understand the difference between a gate and a seat insisted on trying to sit in our laps or threaten to report us to the Department of Transportation. After a few punches to the throat they finally figured it out and left us alone to watch The Man With Two Brains on DVD. I had forgotten the movie was rated R so I hope we didn’t offend the woman next to us wearing the flying nun outfit. Get that cat out of here!
After getting our luggage and clearing customs without any questions regarding my unusually large stash of Shania Twain CDs, we bought our taxi voucher and waited for the next little orange taxi going downtown. I gave the driver the printed out directions for our first stop – Casa 69. Knock it off – that’s the address. As I already had to explain to my family when giving them our emergency contact information, it’s not a sex club and we’re not swingers so keep the orgy invites to yourselves. You know, unless Kate Beckinsale will be there. I left out that part about the orgies when explaining it to the family – I’m happy to report that orgy invites have not been an issue. But I turn aside from the main subject.
It was raining with heavy traffic on a Friday afternoon, so the normal 20 minute drive took about 45 minutes. It might have taking longer but for the aggressive maneuvering of our driver, which seems to be the norm down there. In Mexico City, I had a driver once tell me that they have an expression that literally translates as “throwing metal” to describe the driving. The same expression could apply to San Jose as well. I never felt unsafe, but I did fear for the plethora of motorcycle riders who routinely ride the lane markers between the cars just waiting to be the victim of a Malachi Crunch.
Casa 69, being a small bed and breakfast, is not that well-known which is why one has to give the drivers directions – just past the Museo Nacional and hang a right at the Nicaraguan Embassy. I was hoping that the Nicaraguan government wasn’t up to anything stupid because nothing ruins a vacation like angry protestors with an affinity for arson. The driver turned down a small, mostly deserted street and pulled up to a small structure behind a wall with barbed wire at the top and a security gate at the door. No signage but for a small 69. I made him wait until someone answered the door and confirmed we were at the right place (I had some doubts). Soon a guy wearing a Casa 69 polo shirt appeared, grabbed our bags and welcomed us in. It was a cool little house, true to the pictures on the website, and they took us to our room after checking in and letting us know when the next gang bang started. The room was small, but clean, and even had security bars on the window for our protection. Not that we needed them, but it allows one to sleep with the windows open without worrying about being attacked by Merv Griffin. But now that he’s dead, I’m guessing the bars offer little protection from the ghost of Merv Griffin. Maybe it’s time I let my Merv Griffin phobia go and stop letting it ruin every vacation.
After getting organized and a quick nap, we went to the main house and met the owner, Kurt, and got some dinner recs. Although I had some initial reservations about walking around the neighborhood without my ninja throwing stars which were confiscated by the TSA, I soon found that my only fear was breaking an ankle on the slightly uneven sidewalks. Not exactly ADA compliant. After a few laps around the neighborhood, we decided on Trocadero – a nice place with a trendy club in the back and a good selection of pasta, steak, and seafood where we ran up a 15,000 colones bill. Fortunately, that’s only about $30 for an awesome meal that probably would have run at least twice that back home. We strolled back in the light rain and got our bags packed for the next leg of our trip.