What a reunion! What a week! I am sitting here in my bed at the Betty Ford Clinic trying to remember everything that occurred at our 40th class reunion – “BHS ’68 Part 1 – Viva Panama.” Well there was major partying of course, incredible food, Eduardo de Alba’s El Valle home, Ramon Fernandez’ beach house, Restaurante Camisones, the beach at Decameron, the moving party in a chiva, and the Country Inn Suites in Amador next to our beloved causeway. Good, I’ve remembered the big stuff, now hopefully the details will come back to me. I do recall that we BHS 68ers are still very good at the “-ings”, that is eating, drinking, partying, laughing, dancing, shopping, and singing! Not so good at sleeping though!
So we came from all over: Alabama, Arizona, New Mexico, California, Colorado, Washington State, Missouri, Georgia, Florida, New York, Maryland, Virginia, Puerto Rico, Bocas del Toro, the old Canal Zone, and elsewhere to join our Panamanian brothers and sisters. A few of the early arrivers met up at the Elks Club on Friday night and mingled with some of the old Zonians still living in the area. The evening allowed those from the states to acclimate themselves, not so much to the temperature change, but to the barely familiar taste of the local cervezas y rons. Many other classmates arrived on Saturday and went directly to the Decameron Beach Resort. Jody and I took a direct flight from Washington Dulles to Tocumen (PTY), and after we landed found our way to Decameron’s airport desk, where we met classmate Keith and Ura Nussbaum who were actually on the same flight. The resort transported us directly from the airport to the beach, taking us over the canal via the new Puente Centenario, which is between Pedro Miguel locks and Contractor’s Hill. What an incredible view of “the cut.” From that height the canal actually looked like a little ditch. So up the 4-lane (yes, 4 lanes) highway to the beach we sped. Do you remember the runway across the road up at Rio Hato just past Santa Clara? Well, just a few yards past the runway, we turned left and a couple of minutes later we were there. As we drove onto the resort grounds and again at the reception lobby, we were greeted by large red signs welcoming BHS class of 1968 – very cool.
And of course the resort was awesome. Rooms were roomy, the sun was sunny, the breezes were dry season breezy, and the food and drinks were – well - plentiful. With the dry season in full flush, many of us headed to the beach or one of the several pools to soak in Panama. Did I mention that this was one of those “all inclusive” resorts, with food and bars everywhere. I found that the only way to get a Zonian away from the buffet line was the sound of a blender making piña coladas!
Later Saturday afternoon, we got our first taste of what would be an incredible week-long outpouring of generosity and friendship from our Panamanian classmates and hosts. The troops gathered at a lobby bar for our first official gathering. Beautiful Panama beach bags were given to all the women and sunglasses to the guys. Cameras flashed for hours and the sound of dozens of conversations rumbled through the lobby as the first hours of the reunion got underway and we reacquainted ourselves with each other.
My memories of dusk in Panama were rewarded with a beautiful sunset over the “next side,” and it getting dark in the blink of an eye at just about 7pm. So the crowd of about 50 went off for dinner together, and still the din did not subside. After dinner, we headed the few steps out to the beach and watched a fireworks display where we appropriately oooed and ahhhed. Then it was serious partying time - one of those “ings’ we are still very good at. We took over a resort club karaoke night and found that our own Eduardo de Alba is not only a famous lawyer in Panama, but a very good singing lawyer as well. The whole crowd sang all the oldies from the 60’s and 70’s throughout the night, danced the night away, and produced the requisite conga line. This would also be the first place Fran would lose stuff. Someone must have like her shoes, because when she came off the dance floor they were gone. I’m thinking Dave Bishop or Barry Douglas.
When I noticed it was 2 am which meant that I had been up for the past 24 hours, I figured I just might want to pace myself a little better, so off to bed I sauntered. Perhaps, dragged by butt to bed is more accurate. My bride had smartly crashed several hours earlier.
I didn’t realize this message was going to turn into a Blog, so I better pace my writing a little better as well. So give me a couple of days, and I’ll get my Ron Abuelo Añejo (high class Ron Cortez) besotted brain around the rest of the trip, and share it with you.
And by the way, I’m not really at the Betty Ford Clinic. I understand they have specific rules barring any former Zonians.
Jim Borell