Guadalajara Glory Days #8

I'm covering the Pan American Games from Oct. 13 through 31 in Guadalajara, Mexico for the Virgin Islands Daily News. These notebook items and photos were published in the print edition.

Security at the Games

GUADALAJARA, Mexico – Gaudy M-16 machine guns don't seem to deter computer hackers.

There's no question the Mexican federal police force stepped up its presence in and around Guadalajara during the 2011 Pan American Games. At almost every corner, the policemen were dressed in dark blue commando outfits and carried huge guns I've only seen before in video games.

Early on during my stay, I had to snag a picture of one cop who held a massive gun in one hand and checked the text messages on his cell phone with the other.

But these intimidating figures apparently have little sway when it comes to computer security at the Games.

The Globe and Mail out of Canada reported Monday that an anonymous tipster alerted reporters via email that personal information about the media – full name, date of birth and the first five digits of his or her passport – was accessible through the Pan Am Games website.

There are more than 1,400 journalists covering the Games as 21 accredited Canadian journalists received the email, along with reporters and photographers from The Associated Press and Reuters. I'm happy to report the V.I. Daily News was spared during this fearful campaign.

The Guadalajara 2011 Organizing Committee (COPAG) later released a statement denying any illegal access to the website took place. But the fear still remained.

“I'm just going to work from my hotel for now on,” said German, an Argentinian writer I met at the main press center, who had interviewed me earlier about where exactly the U.S. Virgin Islands were located.

“I'm not so sure that will preserve the safety of your online information,” I told him. “Those police officers with the big guns can find you anywhere.”

Maybe the sarcasm did not translate, because German quickly became annoyed, rolled his eyes at me and left the press room.

WAPA troubles in Mexico

It was the emptiest open bar I had ever seen. Bartenders with their arms crossed and nothing to mix up. Bottles of water everywhere.

I guess that's what happens when international athletes get together for a little dancing and fun.

A local club in Guadalajara sponsored a “Athletes' Village night” on Tuesday where Pan American Games athletes could drink for free. I won't mention any names, but the USVI was well represented. The territory's best athletes – and a certain sports writer – owned the dance floor and we felt right at home when all of a sudden, the music stopped and room went dark.

“Someone didn't pay their WAPA bill,” I yelled out. No one really laughed but I got a few snickers from the USVI contingent.

Cornell University reunion

USVI track coach Nathan Taylor grew up on St. Thomas and graduated from All Saints Cathedral. He represented the territory as a track athlete when he lived on St. Croix in the 1980's and has been a college track coach for 24 years – the last 12 at Cornell University.

Strangely enough, Taylor was not familiar with the fictional character Andy Bernard from “The Office,” who boasts his complete allegiance to Cornell.

“Never heard of him,” Taylor said. “Is he a dweeb? We have a lot of them up there.”

Along the way, Taylor has coached over a dozen college athletes who had ties to the USVI. One of his Cornell products was Mohammad Halim, who is not a dweeb and competed for the USVI in the triple jump at the Pan American Games.

“For me, this was a great experience because Mohammad is a special athlete,” Taylor said. “I've known that ever since I met him when he was 17 years old. It's been a pleasure to coach him at Cornell and at the international level.”

The powers that be

We're moving into a new and bigger place down the road so my free time has been spent basically moving crap. It's stressful, any way you dice it. New beginnings. Closure on old digs. One door closes, another opens -- that kind of crap.

I guess I'm saying this because I wanted to justify why I haven't posted to the blog in almost two weeks. That's a good reason and because the latest post was one of my favorites (Happy Birthday, Woody) so I wanted it to breath a little bit.

This happened like three weeks ago but it needed to be documented. St. Thomas has experienced several blackouts recently and all the trauma had turned normal frustrated folk into a full-blown island misfits.

WAPA is the power and water company on island. The only one. There's no competition for these bastards and the government has its hand in the cookie jar, too.

So when rolling blackouts do occur, questions are frequently asked.

The first one is usually "Why?" A couple others come to mind: What in the hell are you guys doing? Do we live on a third world island? And get your shit together! (I know that last one isn't a question but I love yelling that remark to motorists that drive around the island in WAPA cars -- it makes me feel tough).

So Brianna and I had this nice little 2-day getaway planned on St. John. Basically a vacation away from our vacation. We actually won the free hotel night stay during a weekly raffle at one of our favorite watering holes.

We weren't five minutes away from leaving when we hear some jackass honking his horn in the street in front of our house. Like the seldom gun shots I hear, I ignored the first series of honks. The guy wouldn't stop and it wasn't until I walked out the front door and peered down the front walkway before I realized the honks were directed at me.

Law abiding citizen: "Hey buddy, what gives?"

WAPA jackass (while still sitting in the driver's seat, engine running, AC cranking): "Hey mon, you need to pay your power bill, I'm here to shut you off."

LAC: "Wait a second. Honking your horn? Is that how you bastards do business?"

WAPA jackass: "I saw both cars here."

LAC: "We're not even a month late. I've paid the bill on time for the last 15 months and we miss a few days and they send out people to shut it off? Why don't you go back to HQ and figure out why we lose power every other day?"

WAPA jackass: "I need money or I shut it off. Also, $30 late fee."

That's when I turned around and walked back into the house. It wasn't that we didn't have the money. We did. But like hundreds of St. Thomians, we had lost all faith in the company and we were basically boycotting them in our own little way.

When Brianna heard about the intentions of the WAPA jackass, she almost grabbed a weapon. She exchanged some salty words with the man and within an instant, he was out of the car, walked toward our power box and talked on his walkie talkie.

We were ready to pay but there was zero mention of an $30 late fee on the actual bill. We pulled it out for reference. He countered by summoning security on his walkie talkie.

Does WAPA even have security? We can't possibly be the first dead beats to take a stand against these scum.

From there, it was a good old fashioned sit-in. Peaceful. Effective. My ex-hippie parents would have been proud...

We basically blocked his path to the power box and he was out of options. He got a little frustrated, I started to chuckle and then he walked back to his car and left. Maybe it was because I snapped iPhone photos of his lunacy.

We had won the battle but the war had just begun.

Our ferry to St. John was about to leave so we quickly went online, paid the bill (sans any late fee), and taped this little note with a confirmation number on our power box.

We made it to St. John and had a lovely 2-day break off the rock. When we returned to our house, we were delighted to see the power was still on. An hour later, it was shut off and we started to curse but then we realized it was just another WAPA blackout screwing over the entire neighborhood again.

Congrats to you, WAPA. Keep up the good work and the fabulous customer service. Honk, honk.

No power, no fun

There's something very eerie about driving around a dark island under the clarity of a full moon.

Had some drinks with an old friend for his bday and made it back home at a reasonable hour. But I wake up in the middle if the night because the power went out and the comfortable buzz of the AC unit in my room went deafly silent.

I tried not to think about it. Sweat started to bead on my forehead. This is impossible.

Before I knew it, I was clothed and walking out the door to my car. The plan was to drive down the hill to my office, enjoy the AC from a generator and blog about last weekend's hike to Mermaid's Chair. Incredible photos; amazing time.

When I arrive at office -- the same place we waited out a Hurricane last year because of the generator -- it was pitch black and only my boss' car was in driveway. Was he in there? Can he see me?

I walk up to front door but the power is off because I can push the front door wide open and instead of generator lights illuminating the lobby, there's nothing. Darkness. No security system. Very strange.

I get in car and crank AC. It feels nice. I feel like I'm cheating. Where to next?

After a short cruise down the street, I find the 24-hour gas station is lit up and open for business. You know what, I feel like getting some pizza from a 24-hour gas station so I pull up.

The place is packed. No luting, just packed. Black people talking about how it's hot and they can't sleep. See, I'm not alone. Others can't put up with a sweltering, breezeless night. Just like me.

After I walk out with crap pizza, another islander approaches quickly and asks if I want to buy bootleg CDs. Then he asked if I had jumper cables. I told him I did not have jumper cables but I really did. I offer him a piece if pizza, he declines and I get into my car. Awee, AC.

Can't stay here. They'll eat me alive here. So I start to drive. Through a powerless night under the full moon.

After I park in front of my house, I heard gun shots in the distance. It came from a nearby project. Frustration. I want the power to be turned back on, too. Do you want some pizza?

Another long, hot Caribbean night. I may sleep in my car.