Rollin in the Rojo

Los Diablos Rojos, one of the main forms of transportation in Panama, specifically in the province of Panama. These things are iconic here. Each Rojo is privately owned and personally customized, "pimped out" might be a better term, typically displaying airbrushings of Jesus or nearly nude Nordic women, at least one plastic chromed-out hubcap, the all important bus name, flashing lights emulating the feel of a discoteca, streamers, vertical chrome exhaust pipes protruding off the back, and the occasional Rojo even sports shark fin like adornments on its rooftop. If you ever have the privilege to ride one of these cultural icons, you will find the interior jammed-packed with Panamanians, tipico or reggaeton playing at a level that would make any audiologist cringe, and as you would expect, no AC. In the case of rainfall, all the windows are pushed up, creating a greenhouse effect inside the Rojo and each lucky passenger receives a complementary steam bath. Rojos were clearly designed to accommodate averaged-sized Panamanians, needless to say this creates all sorts of fun for a person of my stature. Standing just over six feet tall, my legs exceed the provided leg room by at least four inches. When forced to face forward in order to squeeze 3 people into a seat designed for 2, I experience a vice-grip like sensation in my femurs, my knees crushed against the aluminum back board of the seat in front of me and my rear-end pinned against the less than plush seat backs (the Keyser's will have to straighten me out when they visit). If you're really lucky you might even score a wheel-well seat; with this stroke of luck your knees become a precarious hazard to your face during frequent stints of jerky acceleration and braking. Given all of this, I usually shoot for the legs-in-the-aisle side-saddle position and I strongly recommend this tactic too my fellow vertically privileged folk when riding Rojos. A little more than a month ago Lacey and I had the privilege to ride a classic Rojo for an extended period of time, 3 hours of rush hour grid-lock from Panama City to El Espino, a trip that otherwise takes 45 minutes. Oh, almost forgot to mention that is it not uncommon to encounter an exposed breastfeeding session on a tightly packed Rojo. I just can't get enough of these things.