For lack of other options I have decided to rename the city of Chitre to the Buttplug of Los Santos. Here is where the Chit starts and it can only get worse the longer you move from the Panamanian version of civilization (Panama City). It was more of a forced road trip if anything as we needed to process a dead beat delivery guy who was fired back in November of last year for picking up passengers on his routes. He now has an attorney and wants MONEY. After 8 months of 60 cent local brews they have finally gotten to schedule the hearing. 2 attorneys, 2 reps, 2 witnesses and of course the plaintiff showed up but not the judge. Either he was so hungover that he couldn't pick up his phone or he was counting his share naked in the bathtub - odds are pointing at a combo. Checking into the hotel is always a breeze with threats of ACODECO reports to get the right rates. Finally we were in the rooms and I announced to everyone to not do a fkn thing until I have verified the internet (it had slipped my mind). Of course it was completely dead since they were using a special form av WPA2 Enterprise designed for safe-guarding space shuttle designs in special clearance areas. Check-out from the Versalles was 30 mins later and on to Azuero grand hotel. I am pretty sure the beds were pure concrete blocks with metal sheets welded up on top for added comfort. By noon internet was down so we left for some shopping. $5.25 for a $1.83 3-pack of extra duty Penn tennis balls summarizes the attempt to spend anything but processed oxygen. At least it's a lower risk of being butt raped if the buttplug is already in. My back problems appear to be gone.