Melissa’s Soapbox

Lion King — The Ride

Departing Bocas del Toro, Panama and arriving in Costa Rica was such an interesting experience that it inspired Andy to create a screenplay: “El Brillo: Una Historia Verdadera” (”The Shining: A True Story”).

ACT I

(The film opens to show a light drizzle falling on the front exterior of the tin-roofed, ramshackle airport in Bocas del Toro, Panama.  Cut to two devastatingly attractive thirty-something Americans, let’s call them ADAM and MELANIE , entering the airport.  Dressed in a variety of earth-toned cargo pants, fleeces and waterproof shells, they look like slightly cleaned-up versions of the stereotypical burnout gringo tourists that infest Central America, and Adam’s ridiculous scraggly blonde beard seems to be trying a bit too hard to fit in.  Carrying baggage, they are obviously here to catch a flight.  After a quick stop at the “Nature Air” ticket counter, which is really just a very small table with a very large woman sitting behind it, they are directed to immigration to get their passports stamped.  They enter a sparsely decorated small room holding three officials and a seemingly endless supply of toilet paper).

MELANIE: (under her breath) I can’t believe it.

ADAM: (Obliviously) What?

MELANIE: It’s Moses.

ADAM: Moses?

MELANIE: You know: Moses who can part the Red Sea but can´t stamp our f$%ing passports.

ADAM: I cannot believe John had to get on a freakin’ cargo plane with our passports and the customs officials and fly to get them stamped because we didn’t have an exit visa from the United States.  I guess that’s what kind of crap you pull when it’s your first week on the job.  Shame that the head of Panamanian immigration had to get involved.

MOSES motions them to his desk.  Upon noticing ADAM and MELANIE; his expression turns glum.  The experience of flying on a white-knuckle small plane only to be yelled at by his boss’s boss has chastened him considerably since his over-the-top authoritarian “investigation” of several days earlier, which nearly landed sailor/journalist/author/minor sailing celebrity John Kretschmer in Panamanian jail.  It is clear that, while on the plane, MOSES has made some arrangements with the Almighty that he may have difficulty fulfilling.  It takes MOSES less than four seconds to stamp both of their passports.

After a perfunctory search of their luggage and a return to the Nature Air table-cum-counter, ADAM and MELANIE are given their plastic-laminate boarding passes (Nos. 4 & 5) and escorted to Gate #2.  Gate #2 is more of a crime scene than a gate — a group of roughly twenty chairs enclosed by yellow “Policia — No Entre” tape.  It shares a police tape “wall” with Gate #1, a virtually identical police-tape quarantine.  It begins to rain buckets.  The sound of fire-hose-level precipitation pound ing on the tin roof is absolutely deafening, rendering ADAM and MELANIE not only unable to express their mutual apprehension about attempting to fly in such conditions, but unable to have much of a conversation of any kind.  The collective anxiety level of the passengers in the terminal heightens palpably.  After a 90-minute delay in which the rain fails to abate, the camera catches MELANIE’s gaze as she looks out the window at a plane pulling up to the gate.

MELANIE: Um, I think that’s our plane

ADAM: Are you sure that isn’t the passenger compartment from “The Lion King: The Ride”?

Indeed, the plane, decorated with an absurd jungle pattern, looks little larger than your typical Disneyland guest conveyance.  The 11 passengers, being pounded by torrents of rain, walk quickly to the plane.  Something catches ADAM’s attention.

ADAM (pointing downward): That tire is completely flat.

The camera shows that one landing-gear tire contains no air whatsoever.  Like lemmings, our heroes proceed up the stairs and onto their 19-seat plane.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

ACT II

The scene is another airport exterior, this time in San Jose, Costa Rica.  The airport — no bigger than the one in Bocas — is entirely too small to service a city of this size.  This raises an alarm with ADAM…

ADAM: Mel, are you sure the shuttle is picking us up at THIS airport?

MELANIE: Well, I gave them my flight information and they said they’d pick us up at five.

ADAM: What time is it now?

MELANIE: 20 after 5.

ADAM: Can I see the receipt for the shuttle?

Sure enough, rather than checking the flight info, the shuttle company has assumed that a flight from Panama must be arriving at the International Airport, some 15 miles outside of town.  Not so — apparently incoming airborne Disneyland rides are relegated to the secondary, domestic airport, completely on the other side of town.  After a phone call, the shuttle driver is rerouted, but the couple is told it wi ll be 30-45 minutes before he arrives.  Although this is comparatively minor inconvenience (after all, ADAM and MELANIE are quite happy to be on solid ground anywhere), it means that the shuttle ride will be leaving nearly well over an hour after originally scheduled.

ADAM: So, how long is the ride to Monteverde supposed to be?

MELISSA: They told me three and a half or four hours.

ADAM: So we should be getting there around 10 at the latest?

MELISSA: I think so.

The couple waits patiently, enduring countless entreaties from the roughly 20 waiting cab drivers.  After about 40 minutes, a van pulls up.  The driver, RAFAEL, exits and approaches ADAM.

RAFAEL: Melanie?

ADAM: Yes, we are Melanie.

RAFAEL assists them with their bags.  He is in his early-to-mid-20s, medium height, with short, spikey hair and somewhat garish Backstreet Boy facial hair.  He is apologetic for the delay (which was plainly not his fault), speaks English reasonably well and has a generally enthusiastic affect.  As ADAM and MELANIE bound into the van, they notice a woman in the front seat.

RAFAEL: I brought my wife.

MELANIE (to wife, cheerfully): Hello!

RAFAEL’s wife, XENIA, says nothing.  It appears that she neither speaks English nor is particularly enthralled with the prospect of shuttling a couple of gringos to Monteverde.  There is no way she is older than 22.

The van pulls out of the airport and onto the highway.  The sun is now setting.

ADAM: About how long to Monteverde?

RAFAEL: Maybe three hours.

MELANIE (to Adam): Great!  We might be there by nine …

(cue spooky, foreshadowing music)

ADAM: Are you are hungry as I am?

MELANIE: Yes! I’m starving.

ADAM: Rafael, could we stop and get some dinner on the way?  We’ll be happy to treat you and your wife to dinner.

RAFAEL: No problem.  I know a place on the way, about one hour from here, that is good.

In short order, the traffic becomes snarled.  The van putters along at 10 or 20 miles per hour.  It is now dark.  ADAM and MELANIE remain content, expecting that the traffic will clear up as they leave town and looking forward to a meal.

(Cut to several shots out the front window of the van.  The van is now outside of the city but not moving any faster, as the road in both directions is clogged with 18-wheelers.  The passengers appear somewhat restless, as we ll over an hour has passed, the traffic has not abated and no food has been forthcoming.)

ADAM: Rafael, this traffic is incredible.  What’s with all these trucks?

RAFAEL: Well, this highway connects San Jose with Puntarenas, the biggest port in Costa Rica.  Everything coming into San Jose is coming down this highway, and everything leaving is going out.

ADAM: How much longer on this highway?

RAFAEL: Oh, we have to take this all the way to Puntarenas.  Don’t worry, we’re almost at the restaurant.

(Cut to ADAM looking out the side window.  Reflected in the glass is a seemingly endless parade of bar signs with the distinctive red, yellow and black Imperial Beer eagle logo on the top half of the marquee and the name of the establishment on the bottom half.)

MELANIE: Have you noticed that this is just bar after bar after bar?  This is seriously the Land of 10,000 Roadhouses.

ADAM: Un-freakin-believable.  This is exactly the same bar, over and over again.

Minutes later, the van pulls into the parking area of one of the roadhouses, “Soda La Cañada”, which looks absolutely identical to at least 70 other establishments they have already passed.

RAFAEL (still in good spirits): This place is really good.

(Cut to interior of Soda La Canada, where the foursome is engaged in small talk.  XENIA, who does not speak English, is having a tough time participating and, frankly, does not appear to be particularly interested.  She picks idly at her tiny fish dish while the others talk over their bland but palatable traditional rice, beans, and meat.)

ADAM: So, do you have any children?

RAFAEL: Yes, we have a baby son.

MELANIE: How old is he?

RAFAEL: Nine months.

ADAM: How long have you been married?

RAFAEL: Five months.

ADAM: How long have you known each other?

RAFAEL: About a year and a half.

Throughout the 15-minute meal, RAFAEL makes repeated attempts at both humor and affection with his young bride, who is having none of it.  Slight awkwardness ensues as the foursome finish their meals.

(Cut to montage of interior shots of the van and exterior shots of endless tailights, indicating passage of time and lack of progress toward Monteverde).

ADAM (to Melanie): I really have to pee

MELANIE: I know — me, too.  Do you think we’re almost there?

ADAM: I kinda don’t think so.  Yeah, it’s 9:30, but you were saying that the turnoff road to Monteverde is a long dirt road, and we’re still on the highway.

MELANIE: So much for getting there by nine.
(cue spooky music)

RAFAEL makes a right turn, and the camera shows a sign: “Monteverde: 38 km”.  The traffic disappears, and spirits brighten.

ADAM: That’s like 25 miles.  We might be there soon.

After five minutes, RAFAEL makes a left turn, and the pavement turns to dirt and points drastically upward.  The van slows to 15 miles per hour as it creeps over jagged rocks, massive holes and other indicia of a seriously neglected thoroughfare.  The van continues up the road for another 10 minutes with no change in speed, slope or conditions before ADAM can take it no longer.

ADAM: Rafael, pull over!  My kidneys are killing me …

Back in the car, progress remains slow, as the road signs show.  Cut to a montage of clock faces and road signs: 9:50, “Monteverde: 28 km”, 10:10, “Monteverde : 23 km”, 10:25, “Monteverde: 19 km”, 10:35, “Monteverde: 19km” again.

As the montage ends, the camera zooms in on RAFAEL.  His jaunty, boy-band facial hair fails to conceal his frustration.  He has now been on the road for well over five hours and it is clear that this is just another example of RAFAEL biting off more than he can chew in life.  He face shows a man who knows that he won’t be home to relieve his babysitting mother-in-law anytime before 3:30 a.m. at the earliest and that, ultimately, there will be hell to pay.  The camera pans to XENIA, whose face, contorted in disgust, reveals her truest innermost thoughts.  The camera pans to MELANIE, who, visibly cramped from five hours in the van, is stretching uncomfortably.  ADAM looks similarly displeased.

Another montage follows: 10:50, “Monteverde: 13 km”, 11:10, “Monteverde: 7 km”, 11:20, “Monteverde: 7 km” again, 11:25, ” Monteverde 7 km” a third time …

ADAM: What the f$%^ is up with the “7 km” signs?

The camera shows a small town slowly materializing out the front window.  It is very dark, poorly lit.  RAFAEL and XENIA begin intently examin ing the road signs, looking for the Mirador Lodge (a destination both mentioned at the time of shuttle booking and clearly printed on the receipt).  After approximately 10 minutes, the town begins to thin out, without any sign of the hotel.  RAFAEL looks exasperated.  Not only is he hours late, it is now clear that he has no idea where he is going.  XENIA appears to be contemplating immediate violence.  The van continues to slowly creep out of town, when magically, a RANDOM GRINGO appears.  RAFAEL pulls the van over.

RAFAEL: Excuse me … do you know how to get to the Mirador Lodge?

The RANDOM GRINGO’s face lights up with both recognition and incredulity.  It is clear that he knows exactly where the Mirador Lodge is and that the van is nowhere near it.

RANDOM GRINGO (in fluent Spanish, pointing in the direction from which the van has come): It’s way back that way, probably 20 minutes.  You take a left … you take a right … you take a left … you take a right … It should take about 20 minutes.
(cue spooky music)

Rafael turns the van around. ADAM and MELANIE sigh, a sigh of both resignation and relief, reflecting their belief that, although they must endure another 20 minutes in the van, it will only be 20 minutes until it’s all over.  The van proceeds down the darkened, dirt roads.

In a pathetic attempt to demonstrate that he is actually familiar with Monteverde, RAFAEL points out the window.

RAFAEL: There is the discotheque if you want to go dancing.

ADAM and MELANIE quietly fume.

The car proceeds down the road for another 10 minutes.  It is clear that RAFAEL is again lost.  A RANDOM COSTA RICAN magically appears, as if from a genie’s lamp, on the side of the road.  Conversation between RAFAEL and RANDOM COSTA RICAN results in the latter pointing up a very narrow and even more precipitous looking road.  RAFAEL thanks him and turns the car up the road, which is totally unfit for automotive travel of any kind.

MELANIE: I sure hope it’s this way because I have absolutely no idea how this van is going to be able to get out of here.

Indeed, the van is alternately inching downhill, in danger of pitchpoling head over heels, and straining to climb seemingly impossible grades.  On the right is the mountainside.  On the left appears to be a cliff, but it is too dark to determine how steep or high it is.  The road is barely wider than the van and littered with near boulders.  Progress is impossibly slow.

Suddenly, a house appears.  By now, RAFAEL (and, for that matter, everyone else) cannot believe that there could a hotel at the end of this road.  So, RAFAEL stops the van, gets out, walks to the front door, and awakens the occupants.  Incredibly, they appear not to know anyth ing concerning the whereabouts of the mysterious Mirador Lodge.  While still contemplating whether to turn the van around (which might be impossible), a sign appears:

Mirador Lodge: 5 km

MELANIE: I don’t know which is more surprising — that we’re actually on the right road or that there could possibly be five more kilometers of this road.

After creeping along at no more than 10 mph, it is fully 20 more minutes before the road suddenly widens and flattens revealing the Mirador Lodge.

ADAM and MELANIE both break out in astonished laughter, thinking exactly the same thing.

MELANIE: Stonehenge has nothing on this place.

ADAM: This is one of the great anthropological mysteries of our time.  (affecting mock television voice-over)  For centuries, archaeologists have wondered how the Egyptians managed to construct the Great Pyramids, how the Khmer constructed Angkor Wat, how the Druids put together Stonehenge…

MELANIE: And how the Costa Ricans came to produce the Mirador Lodge.

Indeed, it is impossible to fathom how the building materials for the lodge could ever have been brought out to such a place.  Monteverde is remote.  The Mirador Lodge is beyond remote.

MELANIE: It’s like the Overlook.

ADAM: The Overlook?

MELANIE: You know, like from “The Shining”

ADAM (laughing): Totally!

Emerging from the van, ADAM and MELISSA are hit with a blast of hard, cold wind and drizzly, foggy mist.  It’s no more than 40 degrees and the wind is blow ing at least 35 miles an hour.  Everything is slightly muddy.  Most disconcertingly, there are no interior lights on and absolutely no signs of life.  It is after 12:30 a.m.

MELANIE approaches the front door to the office and tries it.  It is locked.

MELANIE (slightly panicked): Um… what are we going to do?

ADAM: I’ll go see if I can find a cabin with a light on.  (walks off)

MELANIE and RAFAEL begin a pattern of exaggerated horn blowing, headlight flashing, window knocking and telephone calls to the lodge.  Meanwhile, ADAM has found a cabin with a light on.  He knocks.  There is no answer.  He knocks again, saying “Help.” Still no answer.  He knocks a third time, “I need your help … we have a serious problem.”  The door opens to reveal HALF-DRESSED RANDOM FRENCH DUDE.

HALF-DRESSED RANDOM FRENCH DUDE: Allo?

ADAM: We have a problem here … my fiancee and I have just arrived and the office is locked.  I came here because this is the only light on at the whole lodge.

HALF-DRESSED RANDOM FRENCH DUDE (badly feigning non-comprehension of the situation): I do not understand.

ADAM: Do you have a telephone, any way of contacting the lodge?

HALF-DRESSED RANDOM FRENCH DUDE: I have no telephone.  I go to bed now.  (Shuts door).

ADAM returns to office to find continued honking, flashing and knocking.  Even XENIA is in on the act now.  ADAM approaches the front door and attempts to force it.  After a couple of tries … incredibly, it gives way and opens.

ADAM, MELANIE, and RAFAEL enter.  The main room has 20-foot ceilings and is unaccountably drafty.  It is no warmer than outside, and various large moths and butterflies flap around the room, adding a “Silence of the Lambs” feeling to the already Shining-like atmosphere.  The three split up, scouring the lodge — kitchen, dining room, doors to various offices, some locked, some open, all the while yelling, “Hello!” and ” Hola!” at high volume.  Nothing but silence (broken only by the noise of various flying insects) greets them.  After scouring the property, ADAM decides it is time to let RAFAEL start getting home.

ADAM: Why don’t you get going, Rafael…

RAFAEL (gamely): No, no, I can stay…

ADAM: Dude, I’d like for you to stay married.

RAFAEL (ruefully): I know what you mean. OK, we’ll get going.

ADAM: Good luck, man … I think you might need it.

RAFAEL nods knowingly, and takes the $40 Adam offers as a tip.  XENIA waves lamely from the front seat, barely concealing her contempt for just about everything and everyone at this point.  They drive off.

ADAM returns to the lodge to find MELANIE still wandering, incredulous at the situation in which they find themselves.

MELANIE: What are we going to do?

ADAM: It looks like we’re going to sleep in here.

MELANIE: You’ve gotta be kidding me.

ADAM: Got any better ideas?

MELANIE and ADAM proceed to unpack their luggage, don their warmest clothes (which are neither particularly warm nor numerous), attempting to use beach towels as pillows and sweatshirts as blankets.  Gigantic moths and butterflies swarm the room.  The wind continues to rip through the drafty, barn-like lodge.  It is no warmer than 40 degrees.  Hypothermia is an legitimate concern.  Eventually, they turn out the lights and attempt to sleep.  Needless to say, little sleep is forthcoming.

At 7:00 a.m., RANDOM FRENCH GUY and FRENCHIE’S WIFE open the lodge’s front door and see two very haggard Americans attempting (unsuccessfully to sleep).  Remarkably, RANDOM FRENCH GUY’s English is now totally flawless.  Only now does he “recognize” the problem, having apparently “not understood” the night before.  This is an obvious and extravagant lie.  Only his wife is more disingenuous in her attempts at sympathy.  Incredibly, the breakfast staff has yet to arrive for the 7:00 beginning of breakfast.

At 7:10, GABRIEL enters.  He is daytime front desk worker.  He is also from the “feign incomprehension” school of crisis management.  He begins to listen to ADAM and MELANIE recount the situation before interjecting…

GABRIEL (cheerily): Well, let’s get you some breakfast!

ADAM (curtly): Not funny.

GABRIEL looks chastened.

MELANIE: Is the manager here?

GABRIEL: I don’t think she is awake yet.

MELANIE: Wait … she lives her?

GABRIEL: Yes.

MELANIE: What is her name?

GABRIEL: Gabriela.

MELANIE: Well, when she wakes up, we’re going to need to speak with Gabriela.

GABRIEL: OK.

GABRIEL disappears into the bowels of the lodge, apparently in search of Gabriela.

After a surprisingly good breakfast, ADAM and MELANIE again corner GABRIEL.

GABRIEL: The office closes at 9:00 at night.

MELANIE: Well, it doesn’t say that anywhere on the confirmation you sent us.  And you knew we weren’t even arriving in San Jose until 5:00.  How did you not leave us a key, a number to call, anything???  We had a confirmation and had already paid for the room.

GABRIEL: We’ve never had guests arrive after 9:00 before.

MELANIE: NEVER?  Well that’s obviously untrue.

ADAM: Did you speak to Gabriela?

GABRIEL: Yes.

ADAM: So what did she have to say?

GABRIEL: Well, she was here.  And she heard you.  But she thought you were here trying to rob the place, so she just kept the door locked and stayed very quiet.

ADAM and MELANIE’s heads suddenly explode like watermelons at a Gallagher show.  Bloody pieces of brain and skull coat the walls of the Mirador Lodge.

Fade to Black.

THE END.

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