It twas’ but my first trip to the promised land of Latin America.
I was a “spring chicken" in many respects. Fresh-off-the-boat and looking for adventure around every turn. Well, adventure, degeneracy, and make amor latinas.
I was also traveling alone.
My best friend had joined me for a few days on the trip, but I was now in the big city of Panama City alone for the next month.
Rolling solo…
Without the ability to speak much Spanish — and with zero contacts in the city outside of some girls I had “pipelined” prior to arriving.
I was doing some research about “things to do in Panama City” one fine afternoon — sitting in my shitty shoebox studio apartment, which was about the size of a bathroom at a nightclub — and I stumbled upon a blog about Panama.
The author was a young American guy who seemed quite normal.
I immediately emailed him with a few questions and a random invitation to party sometime if he was around.
This was before social media took off, so email was the best way to get in touch with people.
He quickly responded by offering to show me around the city that Saturday night with a few of his friends.
I quickly accepted the invite.
First Fiesta
We met up at a rooftop bar in Casco Viejo one evening for some drinks.
The blogger was there with a few friends and a couple girls.
We started drinking, chatting, and having a good time. Everyone spoke good English, these were clearly upper-class Panamanians.
They asked me a number of questions and were super friendly. This was at a time when there weren’t that many gringos rolling around in LatAm. People were still curious about foreigners in their country.
I didn’t think twice about everyone being so curious about me.
One of the bros worked for the UN, another had a family who was a big name in the shipping industry in Panama.
Everyone was cool and friendly.
I started attempting to work my magic on one of the upper-class girls sitting at the table after I realized she wasn’t anyone’s girlfriend – and no one cared whatsoever.
It starts to get a bit later and the group decides to go to a club next door.
We pay the bill and walk outside.
Which is when I realize what’s actually going on…
The blogger bro from the USA starts holding hands with one of the Panamanian guys.
My jaw dropped. The blogger bro noticed and laughed, “Yeah, I didn’t know if you knew, but we’re all gay except for one of the guys and the girls!”
I let out a meak laugh…
“Ohhhhh! I hadn’t a clue. To be honest, you guys didn’t seem gay at all.”
He laughs, “Yeah, we try NOT to be those type of gays.”
Me: “Had me fooled! No worries. Y’alls orientation doesn’t bother me a bit.”
He laughs again, “Yeah, we knew you weren’t gay. But our female friends are always asking us to bring straight guys around and you seemed cool.”
We hit the club and partied the night away.
The guys end up being super cool and chill overall. Just bros who happened to have a different persuasion.
And they had tons of female friends around at all times!
Which was ideal for me.
Seemingly Normal
I had a great time out with this group of gay bros and their female friends that night.
They seemed to enjoy having a normal young gringo around and started inviting me to events and parties every weekend.
Each time filled with at least a few single upper-class girls.
It was ideal if I’m being honest.
One party they had like 30+ people over to their penthouse high-rise.
It was a splendid time and I met up with some other travelers, including a few straight white-male travelers.
I ended up making friends with a German backpacker named Tony.
He was the prototypical broke backpacker – living on $10-20 USD per day.
But he was a friendly chap and had been to like 40+ countries over the past few years. He had some great travel tales and was telling me all about Thailand and Brazil.
I start hanging out with Tony doing some tourism tings’ during the week in Panama City. We’d go to parties with this group of Panamanians each weekend.
I was casually dating a few local girls too.
Life was good.
One weekend the group goes to some islands near the city. I declined, as I didn’t want to spend a weekend away from some of the girls I’m seeing.
Tony decides to go.
It Gets Weird
The weekend after the group goes to the islands, I’m drunk as hell at a casino with one of the girls I’m seeing — a very nice girl who ended up taking a 12-hour bus to come see me in Costa Rica.
One of the gay Panamanian bros messages me to see if I’m out and about. I tell him to come by the casino and gamble with us.
He comes through an hour or so later, also drunk out of his mind.
Now, this bro had world-class social skills as an upper-class Latino. Even though he was gay, he was exceptionally charming with the girls.
My girl and him are cracking up, having a great old time — while I’m gambling and drinking.
They’re talking in Spanish, but I make out something about my penis in the conversation.
Odd.
Next thing I know, the gay bro slides over to me and starts telling me about the trip to the islands.
Which was interesting until he goes…
“Jake, I know you’re not gay. But you don’t think you’re gay. You might be bi-sexual”
Ummm…
THE FUCK?!
Him: “I was on the islands with Tony and he claimed to not be gay. So I told him to prove it. Let me suck your dick. If you don’t get hard, you aren’t gay.”
Shit was getting weird.
He keeps going: “I sucked his dick for a few minutes and he was definitely NOT gay. Do you want to find out if you’re NOT gay?!”
I look at the girl I was with. My face had a look of disgust on it — mixed with violence. Like I might curb-stomp this guy right in the casino.
The girl barges in before anything happens…
“Let’s go back to your apartment, Jake. I can see you’re tired.”
I look at the gay bro and agree to leave with her before I got more upset.
I turn to the gay bro: “Uhhh, no thanks, bro. Quite confident I’m not gay. We’re going to call it a night”
He looked sad, but we shake hands and I roll out with the girl.
Backpackers are Weird as Hell
The next morning, I wrote to Tony the backpacker about the situation and asked if it was true…
It was.
I was disgusted by Tony.
I had no issues hanging out with the gay bros, going to parties, and all that jazz. They were pretty normal bros.
But that was crossing a line.
A very fine line I wasn’t going to cross.
I made a mental note that backpacking just wasn’t for me and I needed to meet *normal* travel bros.
And by normal, I meant red-blooded straight males who exclusively liked women and would not let another man suck their limp dick.
I also stopped staying in hostels shortly thereafter.