Panama City: The Adventures Begin

Early morning is the most dangerous hour to travel in Manhattan. Simply because it's deserted. Safety comes in numbers in the Big Apple, so it was with some trepidation and an extra don't-screw-with-me stride that I set off for the subway, to catch the bus, to board the plane, en route to Panama City, Florida. Waking at 3am, dressed and ready to go at 4am.

Why fly cross country at such an early hour, during Spring Break? Well, in a moment of overworked delirium I once again forgot to read the fine print and thought Panama City had something to do with Panama. Turns out, I'm not that far off. The city was officially named in May 2, 1936 due to it being the closest American port to the newly opened Panama Canal. Not swimming distance though, as I was soon to find out.

The best thing about traveling, is that you discover things about other cities, neighborhoods and even a bit about your own. I had no idea for example, that the duty bound Indian brothers who man the fruit and vege stand on Sugar Hill set up shop at 4am. Who would have thought I could pick up a banana pre dawn? Good to know.

It seems another local also favors the early morning hours. Standing on the deserted platform, that familiar rustling sound caught my attention. It was with some dread that I looked towards the moving plastic bag. Yes, it seems the local subway rats come above ground pre-dawn. I prayed the A train would arrive first. Should the D come, I would have to step within inches of this charming rodent.

As you can guess, it was the D train that arrived and much to my horror, as I ran past the rat it ran with me. The bloody thing escorted me down the stairs, step by step, obviously anxious to be on time as well. This is when desertion works in your favor. As you run down the stairs waving your arm hysterically, silently screaming, small rodent by your side, no one can laugh at you aside from yourself.