"Uh-oh." I said to Kathy as I pointed to the rear door handle on the driver's side of the car. There was a three inch dent. Someone had smacked our door. "How could this happen?!" I said in a very accusing tone. It's always best to blame someone else when things like this happen. That and Kathy had been driving the car.

Kathy explained that she didn't know how it happened and that I shouldn't be blaming her about it. I kept my mouth shut, but thought, "My name's all over the rental agreement. She didn't sign anything. What are the laws? I don't know the laws. She doesn't know the laws. Maybe I should flee the country. They could put me in jail for FOREVER!"

When we rented the car a few days earlier, Kathy stated to the Hertz representative that we didn't need any insurance; we were covered by our Visa card. I wasn't really paying attention, as I abhor paperwork. I was looking out the window because we could see our boat. The windmill was spinning and I was moving my head in circles. I just initialed where they told me, having no idea what I was agreeing to.

There was panic in the air. I kept thinking, "There's no way I'm goin' to jail alone. If I'm convicted, Kathy's goin' down with me; it's her fault anyway." I looked at the dent. I wet my index finger to see if I could rub out the scratch. It didn't work. There was no way we were going to get away with this.

I asked Kathy if Visa was going to pay for this, but she didn't know. She was hardly answering my questions and was obviously distracted. She was no doubt thinking about me going to jail. My mind flashed to a scene from the movie Mosquito Coast...

The father (Harrison Ford) takes his family to South America and buys a town. Later in the movie his utopian town is destroyed and his family has become disillusioned. At some point they think he's drowned and the kids are elated. They quickly start pleading with their Mom about going home to America. Dad, of course, didn't die, but got to hear how the family really felt. (Side note: he ends up dying at the end...)

"Is this some kind of trick?" I asked. Was this some insidious plot? I haven't even had a chance to buy my town yet. "Are you guys just trying to get rid of me?"

Kathy still wasn't talking. I could see she was in deep thought. I just didn't know what she was in deep thought about.

We relaxed and the next day we drove to Loreto because that's where our phone works, and called Visa. After being disconnected twice, Kathy was able to navigate the phone system and talk to a human. As she explained to the Visa representative our predicament, I would "occasionally" interrupt.

"Yes, "Kathy answered.

"Tell her that it wasn't our fault!" Kathy turned her head away from me. "Tell her it's about 3 inches long too." We were at a restaurant when we made a call and the waiter was coming by. I was getting nervous. This guy might be getting wise to what's going on. He might turn us in to the Federalies. "Just play it cool," I thought.

"Yes, Can you tell me the number again?" Kathy asked with her head still away from me. The waiter came with the bill and handed it to me. I decided to give him a big tip; but it was no guarantee that he wasn't going to turn us in.

Kathy got off the phone and started explaining about how we have to get to the internet today in order to pay the taxes on our boat.

"What about Visa? Does it cover us, or not?" I asked in a panic. I was starting to hyper ventilate. I saw that waiter using his cell phone. We were running out of time.

"I haven't called them yet?"

"What?!"

"I'll call them now, if you want? I have other phone calls I need to make, you know."

I tried to relax and do the deep breathing exercises we learned many years ago from our La Maz class. I was doing the tough one - I was blowing out the candle.

Kathy ignored me and made the call to Visa. I tried to focus on my lunch and play it cool in case the waiter was watching. He was still on the cell phone. I started drumming on the table to the beat of the music. I just needed to be cool. If you panic, you die!

After Kathy worked through the system, she was promptly put on hold. She looked at me and said, "I really want a Malteada."

"Will you focus! You can have a chocolate shake..."

"Yes! Hello," Kathy said as she cut me off.

"Be nice. Tell her that it wasn't our fault!" Kathy turned her head away from me again. "Tell her it's about 3 inches long too."

The Visa representative gave us another number to call. Kathy told the insurance agent the whole story and he said that we covered, but we had to pay the bill first. We left the restaurant and I thanked and shook hands with our waiter. I tried to look him in the eyes in hopes that he could see I was a guy that didn't need to go to a Mexican prison. I shook the manager's hand too, just in case.

We drove to the Hertz office mostly because it was 1/4 mile from where we were at. I was feeling more confident now, but the thought of having to pay first was buggin' me. How much was Hertz Mexico going to hit me up for?

We explained to the Hertz representative about how WE were hit and that it wasn't our fault. I spoke very slowly with a mix of Spanish and English (mostly English). She, of course, spoke perfect English, but I was rollin'. She looked at the ding and we started filling out the necessary forms. She called one of the workers over and he took us to a mechanic for an estimate. It was 900 pesos which is about 90 bucks.

So this is how it ends: Visa covers it; it was only 90 dollars, and it was still cheaper than if we had taken the insurance offered by Hertz. I told Kathy that it was best if she would just stop panicking about these things.