You've Got to Be Kidding Me...

Most of the time, the things here that make no real sense just kind of roll off me like water off a duck's back.  Usually, the "Honduran way" of doing things is just something I take in stride, even when it's completely antiquated or unnecessary and could be easily moved into the current century, the here and now.

And then there are days like today, days I come completely unglued at the idiocy of doing things a certain way "just because" those are the rules. Even when those rules make absolutely no sense at all.

I was out on my motorcycle, running some errands, and the last thing I needed to do before heading home was a quick stop at the bank.  A "quick stop at the bank" can be a huge oxymoron, but, hey, I was operating in faith! 

I pulled up at the entrance of the mall and the guard waved me off.  He pointed at me, then an area outside the gate, gesturing that I should park there.  He hadn't spoken a word.  I held my hand out for the parking pass and he gestured again, more strongly this time. I told him, "I speak Spanish; you can talk to me."  He told me that the motorcycle parking was full and that I'd have to park outside the gate.  I told him to call the guard at the other end of the parking lot (where the motorcycles are) because the parking lot was half empty.  Amazingly, he did, but said the same thing:  the motorcycle parking was full and I needed to park my motorcycle outside the gate.  I asked him that if I parked there, was he responsible to watch my moto?  No, of course not.  That's what I thought!  I asked him to give me the parking pass because the lot was half empty and I needed only 15 minutes to go to the bank.  I told him that it was ridiculous that the parking lot had so many empty spaces and he wouldn't let me in.  I told him that it wasn't my fault that most of the moto parking was occupied by employees of the businesses.

Nope.  Not gonna happen.  We stood there arguing for about another minute.  Me sitting on my moto, blocking the entrance to the lot, and him standing there, refusing to let me enter a lot that had 35 or so available spaces.  A few more cars and taxis were waiting to enter the lot, but no one could go anywhere with me in the way.

I realized that la guardia wasn't going to give in and I wasn't going to the bank on my moto. I cut a quick U-turn and weaved through two of the taxis who were waiting to enter.  Within 3 or 4 seconds I was in 5th gear, gunning it toward the boulevard and home.  Seething.  Unable to wrap my mind around the absurdity of the situation.

Back at Enlaces, I parked my moto, came into the house to announce to the world, via Facebook, how angry I was, then headed over toward the cafeteria.  A group of teachers and a few students were sitting at a table, so I told the teachers that on days like today, I just don't understand their country.  I was going on and on, in Spanish, throwing in a few slang or idiomatic phrases (not cussing, just slang and modismos), while they sat there laughing.  They all agreed that some things here just don't make sense.  Mr. Jimmy, who also rides a motorcycle said that he can almost never park inside the gate at the mall.  We all got a good laugh out of it and I got to practice my Spanish for a while.

By the time I went up to the office to check on some things, like what time they'd be going to the bank this afternoon so that I could ride IN A CAR with them, my Facebook post had already made the rounds and Daya laughed as I walked in.  We're all still laughing about it.

¡Lo que ellos hacen no tienen sentido!

¡Qué bárbaro!