Burning time in the Panama City airport. Looking outside the window at a runway that turns into lush tropical growth in it’s perimeters.
The scenery could be at any tropical third world country. It reminds me of numerous scenes from special ops books a la Andy Mcnab. The kind of semi paramilitary environment where undefined operatives can slip in and out of cargo areas without being noticed, or spend days in lookout, getting soaked to the bone and eaten alive by nasty local bugs.
I am in the process of loading endless number of useless iPad apps and listening for the fourth time to a song the dude on the couch next to us is playing on his phone. Welcome
to Central America. I am going through a quick transformation into third world travel mode.

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