Panama's Presidential Motorcade


Panama's Presidential Motorcade

(2 votes)

Written by Matt Landau

Thursday, October 11 2007

So I'm cruisin on Avenida Balboa around ten in the morning, windows down listening to a little Kanye. The sun's sparkling off the bay, palm trees are swaying, very few cars on the road. Nothing could be better right? And then bam!

Suddenly, almost like a swarm of killer bees, I was surrounded by the Republic of Panama's Presidential motorcade. To the right, to the left, in front, and in back was this team of tan Toyota Prados that captured me like a little minnow, swerving effortlessly to avoid potholes.

The drivers maneuvered around me in tight turns and smooth movements, almost as if NASCAR exercises. It was brilliant! None of them drove in actual lanes, but more in a fashion that occupied the entire three-lane throughway: something like the flying V. The tinted windows were all closed except for one which was sort of behind my drivers side seat. And then there he was, the man of the hour. President Martin Torrijos with his window down and his tight hair slightly blowing in the breeze.

I had a bit of a panic attack as to just what one is supposed to do when driving beside the president. Pretend you don't see him and try to act cool? Roll up the window and drop out of the race? Try to take a photo or ask for an autograph via hand signals?

Then, without really thinking, I looked his way and there he was! I smiled. He smiled. I nodded the way you might to a good friend as if to say, "Oh, hey what's going on?" He waved to me and smiled as if to say, "Not too much. How are you?" He was listening to Kanye too!

As the squad of cars passed, I kept in the proverbial wake bypassing everyone who had pulled over to give way to El Presidente (and me). I learned this tactic driving behind ambulances in Manhattan. The lights were all green and the intersections were all cleared by a motorcycle scout. Eventually, after a few minutes in the pursuit, I came to my turn, but hell, I wasn't about to let it end that quickly. So I followed them, all the way to Punta Pacifica at which point another motorcycle guard put an end to my escort. "But hey" I wanted to say. "I'm with Martin."

I'm sure this is something every Panamanian has experienced, so this may seem juvenile. But I've never felt so escorted, so privileged in my life. This is THE way to travel through Panama City's hectic traffic grids. It was quite the exhilarating experience, and if Mr. President you are reading this, I would like to propose we do it again sometime.

Note: After this incident, I mentioned it to a few friends and learned that in fact, many Panamanians run into the President. One friend happened to be next to Martin at PowerClub (a gym) when he was exercising on a bike. Another ran into him and got a photo near Multi Plaza mall. Guess my experience wasn't that unique.