A Drive To Remember

by ASHER BRONSTEIN (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown Costa Rica

The first time I laid eyes on him was while checking into a hostel on the outskirts of San Jose, Costa Rica. Barely reaching five-foot-two, slightly hunchbacked, and laughing like it was his manic disorder, Emanuel was talking incessantly to two German girls in their early 20s. Being that he looked at least 60-years-old, I immediately ranked him as a tier one creep. Two days passed without any sighting of Emanuel. I overheard him promise to take the girls to some beautiful place and wondered if he’d ever be back or if they were safe. It was then that the hostel informed me that I would need to change rooms due to an overbooking. And so, I gladly switched to the lesser populated 6-bed dormitory. While settling in to my new space, I pulled out my laptop and began filling out a booking for a bus from Costa Rica to Panama City. At this point, Sam, a woman from England who was in the bed to the right, asked me where I was headed to next. As I told her I was heading to Panama, she immediately informed me that there is another guy staying in this room who is headed to Panama by car. Oh, what luck! Several minutes later, Emanuel comes marching (literally) through the door, says something somewhat funny and bursts out laughing. I quickly learned that this man I had so quickly passed judgement on is a former member of the US Armed Forces and has been spending his retirement between Massachusetts and Costa Rica, adopting and helping many young people along the way. Suddenly, his booming voice and ridiculous laughter didn’t sound so bad anymore. Emanuel immediately offered to drive me, though he was only headed to David, one of the closest cities to the Panamanian border. After much deliberation and lots of uncertainty on how I would finish the other half of my journey to Panama City, I decidedly signed up for the adventure of a lifetime with this military guy. Slightly out of my element due to some unexpected illness and, thus, lack of sleep for this midnight ride, I climb into his Mercedes-Benz model W123 at one o’clock in the morning. Our journey began with a stop at the gas station where Emanuel proceeded to yell at the attendant “Buenos dias, senior,” removing any bit of sleepiness from the poor fellow’s face. Then, as we made our way down highway 27, he yelled the same greeting at every toll booth we drove through, adding a quirky remark tailored to each person and followed by roaring laughter as we drove away. This is how it went. Certainly, there was a moment of peace and quiet in which I managed to doze off for a few minutes, only to be awoken by the car skidding off the road toward a dangerous looking cliff beyond a turn. The car came to a sudden halt right before the poor excuse for a rail guard, and Emanuel burst into the loudest fit of laughter I heard from him yet. I asked for an adventure and I certainly got one. We passed lots of strange sites during our drive, from two teenagers having sex on the sidewalk to a woman in a black dress walking home alone on a dirt road at 3am. Emanuel and I talked about life. His father was Israeli and died the year before, and his mother is from Spain and they really get along. He has a wife in Massachusetts who likes the cold and a daughter who signed away her life to Jesus and lives behind closed doors. What I learned most from Emanuel was not to judge someone based on their behaviors. I could have purchased my $40 bus seat in the name of safety and comfort. But then I would never know that Emanuel’s laughter was partly in response to the horror he’s seen. That his booming voice was a product of his years as a drill sergeant in the Navy. Or that what I took to be annoying behavior toward others was, in fact, quite beguiling. Driving with Emanuel reminded me that one can never truly know.