How to become a Green Beret in 1 easy step

Or: What not to wear in Panama

Image Copyright © 2023, Jason Mohler

If you ever get a chance to go to Panama, do. If you do, however, I’ve got a couple of suggestions. First, pick up a burner smartphone when you get there and make sure it has Google Translate - knowing where the bathroom is is a good start, but it also helps to be able to tell the difference between the little boy's and girl's rooms.

And be careful what you wear.

I don’t mean avoid heavy winter coats (although that’s a good idea, too), I mean watch what type of hat you wear. I found that out the hard way. I am... let's say follicley challenged and a friend recommended I wear a hat. Specifically, he said that boonie hats work great. Okay, I have a couple of boonie hats, so that wasn’t a problem. The problem came when the only one I could find was an old school tiger stripe camo one. If you’re not familiar with the pattern, think John Wayne in The Green Berets:

Image Courtesy mubi.com

I should have known something was up when we boarded the water taxi that took us to Iguana Island - the boat captain gave me the oddest look. Still, okay, I get it. I kind of stand out. I’m 6’3”, gimp along on a cane, and haven’t seen the low side of 200 pounds in fifteen years. I didn’t think much of it until I got back from snorkeling, threw on a shirt, grabbed my hat, gimped up to the little house that served as a visitor’s center and plopped down on a bench in the shade. And met Emilio, the Federale assigned to the island to make sure us gringos didn’t cause too much trouble.

And there was that odd look again.

Like I said, I kind of stand out, but I never considered what I might look like to a local: tall, a little heavy, but with decently broad shoulders, walking with a cane, and old enough to be retired military.

And wearing a hat synonymous with special forces.

We chatted for a while before Emilio finally got up the courage to ask if I was a Ranger.

Blink, blink.

No...

Green Beret?

Blink.

No.

Yes, I was in the Army, but I was finance, I told him.

I don’t think he believed me.

After asking me what I carried (M-16), he told me he had an M-14 in the visitor’s center.

And then he drew his pistol.

It was a Glock (Austrian made! 9mm!). He dropped the magazine and cleared it before handing it to me.

Yes, he gave me, a dumb gringo, his weapon.

Now I might be a dumb gringo, but I’m not that dumb. I took it and made all the appropriate oohs and aahs before (very) carefully returning it to him.

Grinning, he holstered it, and we went back to talking about nothing in particular - weddings, wrestlers, bananas, and so on. I even got to try a banana fresh off the tree (delicious) and a fresh coconut (not so much) before finally returning to the mainland.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the iguanas agreed with me about the coconuts.