You’re driving home from a lovely beach vacation in Puerto Vallarta, which entails driving through the ass-backwards state of Nayarit, Mexico 🇲🇽
You expect some traffic.
You expect some delays.
But what you don’t expect…
Is to sit in your car for damn near 4+ hours not moving at all, whatsoever.
Finally, traffic starts to go by. You start to inch forward every couple of minutes. Things are starting to move.
You finally see a highway worker walking by the side of the road, so you roll down the window…
“What was going on? Why was there such a delay?”
Mexican highway worker: “We’re fixing the road, but we had to take our lunch break for a few hours.”
Yes, you read that correctly…
The Mexican highway workers shutdown the highway, on both sides, for hours on end…just so they could have a nice lunch break and siesta.
Causing you a lovely 4-hour wait in bummer to bummer traffic.
The Latin Hammer™ strikes.
You decided to move to the bustling metropolis of Panama City, Panama 🇵🇦
You rent what looks to be one of the nicest apartments in the city. Running about $3,500 USD a month.
A two-bedroom, two-bath spot on the 38th floor.
Only to arrive and be greeted by the Airbnb host…
“That apartment is not available because the owner decided to renovate this week. So we have got another one for you.”
You’re thinking, “Ok, as long as it’s similar, I’m cool”
Only to be put in a one-bedroom “shoebox” apartment on a low-floor.
The host says you’ll be in the apartment you booked in a week, but you both know what that means…
2-4 weeks minimum until it’s ready.
You’re tired from a day of travel and don’t have the energy to go find something else, so you move into the “shoebox” spot.
Two weeks go by and you request a full refund. This wasn’t what you rented, you’re tired of living in a “shoebox” and want your money back.
The host balks.
You get Airbnb involved and magically the two-bedroom spot on the high-floor opens up within 24-hours.
You get a partial refund and move in.
The two-bedroom spot is lovely. Except for the fact that the master bedroom shower leaks all over the floor.
And now, you’re putting flip-flops on to walk into the bathroom and take a piss at night.
You complain to the host…again.
He says a maintenance worker will be over in the next 48-hours to fix the problem.
This doesn’t happen.
48-hours turn into two-weeks.
Your flip-flops are soaking wet 24-hours a day.
The Latin Hammer™ strikes again.
You found a last-minute hotel in the “narco” beach town of Manzanillo, Mexico 🇲🇽
It’s 3am and you hearing blaring house music coming from the room next door.
You hear a half-dozen male voices yelling loudly. Sounds of beer bottles “cheers’ing” ring through the paper thin walls.
Thoughts run through your mind…
Should I go confront this group of men who are drunk and could be connected?
Or should I go talk to the reception?
You put some some clothes and flip-flops to walk across the parking lot, only to find the reception is closed and nobody is coming to help you.
After calculating the benefits and risks of a confrontation, you decide NOT to go knock on your neighbors door and eat the night of shitty sleep.
The music finally turns off around 5:30am.
You fall asleep for a few hours, only to hear the music blaring again at 9am.
The Latin Hammer™ strikes ever-presently.
You’re standing outside of your Airbnb rental in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 🇧🇷
You’ve got all your luggage, computers, etc. by your side as dusk settles in a city known for street crime.
You speak very little Portuguese.
You’re desperately trying to call your Airbnb host to let you in the building.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, which was really only 20-minutes, the host picks up and comes to open the gate.
He’s a friendly fellow, but he’s sweating profusely and damn near out of breath.
You get to the door of the apartment and he opens it…
The smell of sex fills the air.
You walk in to find a scantily-clad woman “cleaning” the bed and changing the sheets.
You turn to your host with a look of, “Did you really just fuck on the bed in the apartment that I’m renting from you while I was arriving?”
He noticed your look of astonishment filled with disgust and he begins to blush.
The Latin Hammer™ fucks.
While living in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic 🇩🇴 — you’re woken up on a Sunday morning by a startling noise.
Mind you…
You’ve got to bed just a few hours before after a big night out on the town.
So you drag your still drunken self out of bed and try to figure out what the noise was.
There it is again.
And again.
You’re desperately trying to not open up the blackout curtains on the balcony to check what’s going on outside, but the noise just won’t stop.
So you reluctantly open the curtain only to see construction workers building a new building next door.
Starting at 6am to ensure nobody in the neighborhood is able to sleep this Sunday morning.
The Latin Hammer™ strikes…inescapably.
P.S: This story is the definition of — The Latin Hammer™
