How Many Are Willing to Go This Far?

Friday afternoon, we arrived at the court. Victoria now informs me that I have made a mistake. I meant to say, the clay court. Let me assure you that in tennis there is a very very big difference between cement and clay courts. Just a little while before it had been pouring without any sign of stopping anytime soon. Luckily, the rain had been reduced to either a heavy sprinkle or a light drizzle. The rain had left the courts looking like splotches of red mud with almost unrecognizable white lines etched underneath it. She kept her cool, explaining that clay court dry quickly, while I remained skeptical.

Victoria's coach was late to practice that day, so we had to wait in the "office." Office being a tiny room with a desk and a couple chairs. Of course, all the chairs were taken, leaving us with only one option: the window sill. This sill is probably the most uncomfortable thing you will ever sit on. Saying that half my butt was comfortable would be an exaggeration. This sill allowed for like a fourth of your butt to be on it. I could've been far more comfortable on the floor of the "office," but the red clay dust makes for quite an embarrassing stain on khaki pants.

When the coach finally got there it was still drizzling. Victoria wanted him to wait for the rain to pass so that she could play. So we waited for about half and hour and when we went back out it was still drizzling. She looked around for her coach, but evidently he decided he wasn't going to wait for the rain to clear out and had left quite some time ago. Seeing this Victoria decided we should walk around this portion of road that she runs on to practice her eight-hundred meter race. At first sight the lap seemed pretty small, but when we started walking I saw that the lap was at least three times what I had anticipated.

We walked about a lap and started in the second. My bladder then decided it was full and I really really had to pee. I alerted Victoria and we started walking as fast as we could without looking weird. About half way to the bathrooms we noticed that a huge puddle had developed in the road. We kept walking, determined to get to the bathroom, as if nothing. A car was approaching so we got as close to the curb as we could. If the car had continue to drive in a straight line it would have just cruised by, however in Panama, driving is a game to see who can make everyone's lives much much harder than they have to be.

So, the car turned ever so slightly to the right speeding straight through the puddle and drenching us with nasty and utterly disgusting unidentified liquid. We both screamed rather loudly and stood there motionless in complete shock of what had just happened. We had no where else to go, so we kept walking, soaked in God knows what, until we made it to the bathroom.

As if to make things worse the bathroom was really gross. There was mud on the floor, and none of the stalls were even remotely clean. I settled for the one that had the least mud and the cleanest toilet seat which I covered with about a million layer of toilet paper anyways. I washed my hands, but of course there weren't any paper towels to dry my hands or even to try and wipe of the nasty liquid we had been splashed with.

Victoria, now starving, decided that she wanted to go to some little store to buy something to eat. When we walked in this horrible stench hit me like a ton of bricks. It was like a mix of dead cat and rat. I have never had to hold my breath that long. It was truly disgusting.

I couldn't believe what Victoria was willing to put up with to make to the top if the tennis world. This everyday? I would have quit a long time ago. I had never seen someone so concerned with a recreational activity before. She was so passionate about tennis that she put up with this almost everyday. She must really love it. But I will never understand why anyone would go to such great lengths to play any sport.