Colombian adventure

rite a story that keeps getting rewritten by author with character arguing with writer on events

It was a cold and snowy morning.

“Stop right there if you want me to help with this story we need to be on the same page. You told me you were going to write about the time you and I were on our boat in South America. Uh, snowy it rarely was in Nicaragua.”

“Alright I knew this, but I was going to correct it in a few more sentences I only wanted to grab the reader’s attention. Besides I was going to comment on it was cold and snowy back in New York State where the trip started from. “

“That’s part of your writing problem. You find humor in strange things. No-0ne will think it’s funny, they’ll think it’s dumb. You should be trying to let your reader get a feel for the hot muggy weather we were sailing in. I didn’t think” funny” did anything for the story, plus this wasn’t a funny incident.”

“O.K. You may have a point, maybe. I could start with saying, we were doing land travel having left our boat in an anchorage off the coast of Ecuador. That at least sounds exotic.” I said.

“ I don’t know Herb it sounds kind of flat to me. Why not grab them with what happened first.” “

“Herb looked at Beth trying to hide his annoyance.“,How about, waking up in a mosquito ridden flop house in Colombia.”

“Look I’m not collaborating with you on this story .You asked me to listen to you and well there are just some points I think could be more closely aligned to the truth. Sorry go ahead I’m listening.

“Then please no more interruptions”

Waking up in a mosquito ridden flop house in Colombia I grabbed my clothes that I had taken off the night before and thrown on the floor by the bed. Everything felt damp and smelled of the low rent places we had stayed at on this inland part of our trip. We had left our boat in an anchorage near Guayaquil in Ecuador and were traveling mainly by the local bus system.

The bigger picture was we were planning to sail around the world and along the way take breaks to explore on land.

“I think you should add that the two of us were never listened to anyone most of our lives. I mean I think you need to explain us a little. Like who leaves a perfectly good job and home and decides to go sailing around the world with only the money from the rent of your home. A small home in a lower income area not in some fancy expensive area. And you did this when you were in your prime money-making years when you should have been saving for old age. And I think you should also point out one of you had never sailed before and didn’t know a rudder from transom.”

“Excuse me this is my story, you make it sound like we were reckless and irresponsible. I want to portray an adventurous couple who sometimes stretched the safety margin, but who had many experiences that others might not leave themselves open to. I will also add you can’t have these adventures when you’re too old and physically can’t handle them, that is why we went when we did.

I continue with my story trying to block out the harrumphs and sighs from my partner.

Back to Colombia and the flea bag hotel.

After getting our belongings together we walked to the customs office. We were told there was a small boat leaving in about an hour and if we ran, we could catch it. There wouldn’t be more than a few passengers on board. We ran like hell and located the boat It was not a big boat. We noticed there were a lot of policemen around the boat with guns. We were getting used to this in South America, the guns not necessarily being held by police.

“Now I think here you should add like the USA. I mean guns are everywhere. You make it sound like we were in some primitive backwater.”

And I think it is important particularly regarding what happened soon after, said Herb.

I continued writing. After we found a seat on the boat an elderly woman with a group of South Americans who looked to be a family started to get on behind us. It was clear they were taking care of this woman, helping her load her luggage and making sure she got a comfortable seat. Most of the group got off the boat except for a man and a woman. They sat on either side of her, and I noticed an outline of something around the man’s pants that I was certain was a handgun. Again, this did not make me nervous because as I said everyone down here had some kind of weapon on them. If not a gun then a machete. They sat talking and laughing all in Spanish of course. I didn’t understand a damn thing.

It seemed like we had been waiting for a long time. I noticed the captain of the boat and I decided to ask him how long before we shoved off.

He looked at me quizzically as though I should know.

“This isn’t a tour boat senor. This boat is a transporter and we’re just waiting for the police chief to finish processing the inmates.

“Processing the inmates I said I swallowed hard, what for.?”

“As I said senor we’re a transporter. All the Nicaraguans who have illegally crossed over the border in the last week will be dropped off at the Nicaraguans customs booth.”

My heart started to beat a little faster. This was a small boat besides the prisoners and one guard there was only us, clearly Americans and a little old lady who by the way looked like she had money. What is better for a boat full of crooks.

Beth snickered .“Oh stop being so dramatic these were Nicaraguans who crossed over on a regular basis to work in the fields of Colombia, the man told you that, why are you making such a big deal about it.”

“Hey, did you ever hear of artistic license? I want to keep the reader’s attention. It would be pretty boring if I just wrote we were on a boat with an old lady and her caregivers and some farmers. “

“Alright go on if you must but at least call this fiction.”

At last, about ten men boarded the boat, hands tied behind their backs. They didn’t look all that upset and even the policeman was joking with them.

My wife and I looked at each other quizzically. What was going on? The policeman got off the boat after all the prisoners were loaded. I couldn’t believe it. We were to ride in this boat with prisoners and an old lady and her caretakers. O.K. I thought at least their hands were tied.

We were not off the dock more than fifteen minutes when the prisoners all looked at each other and laughing started wriggling out of the ropes on their wrists. I just figured this was it We’re dead. The old lady and her companions continued their talking and laughing not giving even a glance at what the prisoners were doing.

“Now you’re getting better, sticking to the facts and not some stupid humor. If you recall we were the only ones who seemed upset. Even the captain just lit up a cigar and settled into his seat.”

“Can I continue please?

It was then that the meanest looking prisoner grabbed a knapsack that was sitting by the Captain. He opened the bag and started to hand out guns to the other prisoners. This is when my wife fainted.”

“Whoa cowboy, as I recall this is when you started screaming and then passed out. Now that was funny. “