There are four kinds of business. Tourism, food service, railroads and sales. And hospitals slash manufacturing. And air travel.

I warned all of you not to get used to frequent postings. The reason we have not posted in awhile is we have not had access to Internet. The provider of the World Wide Web here in Jamaica is ‘Cable and Wireless’ and it is my personal belief that this company has the worst business practices EVER. You may be saying to yourself, “Patrick don’t be silly, the worst EVER?! Aren’t you being a bit superlative?” No, I am not over-exaggerating. I have been locked in an epic battle with Cable and Wireless that is worthy of immortality in a Homeric poem. I realize that having Internet access in my home is a luxury not available to most Peace Corps posts. I should be thankful I am able to email friends and family regularly, look up lesson plans, and have a creative outlet such as our blog. But it is incredibly frustrating when I am used to having such amenities and they suddenly go away with no explanation. When I try to call Cable and Wireless (loving called “Fail and Worthless’) they have no idea what is wrong, can give me no idea when I can expect service again, then have the gall to ask me for payment. Why would I pay for a service I have not received?

Not a whole lot has really happened in the past week since we posted a blog. But I will try to provide some interesting commentary so that those of you that check out the ol’ blog with any frequency can get your fix.

Instead of calling February 29, 2008 ‘Leap Day,’ I am going to forever remember it as ‘The Day My Butt Went to Sleep.’ In order to find out what happened to me that caused my derriere to go numb, we are going to do the rest of this blog ‘choose your own adventure’ style.

→Okay so if you think that I spent 10+ hours on a minibus continue reading on in the next paragraph.
→If you think that I got my ass paddled like a freshmen by Ben Affleck a la Dazed and Confused, continue to the p.s. part of my blog… at the very end.

I was scheduled to arrive in Kingston for a 1 o’clock meeting of the PC student council, aka VAC. I left the house at 8 o’clock thinking 5 hours would be plenty of time to travel 110 miles. Who has two thumbs and completely misjudged the unreliability of public transportation in Jamaica? This guy! Two short jaunts in a taxi and 5 hours on a minibus later I get to the PC office only to be told the meeting was unnecessary and had already happened (side note to incoming PCVs… fill out grant request forms correctly so I don’t travel all across the freakin’ country for no reason). Well, Ryan and I treated ourselves to some Wendy’s before catching a taxi back to the bus park. Reluctantly I got back on the bus and though I was dreading the return trip to MoBay I was at bit pleased because I was able to snatch up one of the best seats on the bus.

→ If you think that I gave up such prime real estate to a flustered young mother and her infant continue reading in the next paragraph.
→ If you think I keep my head down and enjoyed what would have been a vastly more comfortable ride… slap yourself for thinking me such an asshole.

Yep. I gave one of the best seats on the bus to the young mother and her baby. What a completely terrible idea. What was I thinking? Damn chivalry, why won’t you die?!

When it comes to public transportation on island, there are good (actual) seats, the very front seat or any seat next to a window. The rows closer to the door usually get squished as more people are packed in. The worst seats are the ‘jump seats.’ They are rickety contraptions of the southern engineering variety that go in the aisles. Not only did I give up my seat next to a window, I succeeded in getting the jump seat right next to the door. So for the journey home I sat uncomfortably squeezed in the aisle on the only jump seat without a back. So yeah, my rump was completely without feeling about 15 minutes into the 5-hour return journey.

This was not my only rear related problem this week. While singing ‘cabeza, hombros, rodillas, y pies,’ I was bending over to touch my ‘pies’ and one of the students proceeded to credit card me with a large seed pod. Those of you unfamiliar with getting credit carded, think about sliding your credit card through the machine at the grocery store, now think about a kindergartner doing that with a seedpod to my gluteal cleft. Though I was feeling shocked, violated, and a bit emasculated, I was to finish my lesson. Note to self… protect family jewels from miniature fists of fury and protect the plumber parts (sorry Tony, with so much crack talk I couldn’t resist) from errant seedpods. The things one learns by teaching 5 year-olds.

We have been taking a bunch of pictures of our kids to share with all of you interested when we come home. Sorry for those of you who want them posted on the blog. Our boss asked us not to post pics of the kids and we are honoring his request. Also our camera situation is a bit of a problem. I am grateful to my father for gifting us Jen’s hand-me-down camera as we have gotten quit a bit of use out of it. The only problem is it takes 5-10 seconds to take the picture once you hit the button, it is larger than what is comfortable to carry in a pocket, and it chews through batteries like that’s its job. These three things prevent us from taking more pictures. The first two make us look incredibly touristy, a label we fight daily, or make us look like CIA. I don’t really understand the CIA thing, but it was told to me. I guess I can see it… a random white guy walking around taking pictures of people and things in places that don’t see many tourists. It doesn’t really seem that big of a stretch when I put it like that.

That’s all I have to say and I mean it… anybody want a peanut? Patricio

p.s. If Ben Affleck ever showed up at my baseball game and tried to paddle my butt I would pound his craptastic-movie-making face in.