Good Omens

A few days ago I drove down out of the clouds around the Arenal Volcano to pick up my molecular biologist collaborator (and now friend), Leonid Moroz. The drive was hellacious. They had closed the easy road and sent me to the busy busy road, and oh my gosh what a lot of slow trucks on a two lane road.

But I made the 4+ hour trip with at least 5 min to spare. Picked up Leonid, as well as two students (Heather and Sheldon), and headed back west toward the coast. We stayed at a hotel along the way, got up early the next morning, a couple three hours to the ferry and 2 more hours of dirty road, and we finally arrived.

Travelers take notice of omens. This is because there are so many things that can go wrong, and we want to know if something will. Of course add on the importance of good luck in research, and you have at least two very superstitious scientists.

We had omens galore to view. First was the fact that 4 different people coming to the airport by different means (two airplanes, a taxi, and a car) actually defied the odds against the rendezvous, and found each other without mishap.

Second was something that at first blush seemed like a bad omen. At the ferry, my three fellow travelers walked and I drove onto the boat. Lots of backing and filling and brusque ticans waving and shouting. I must admit to being a bit flustered by the operation, but in any case got out of the car and cleverly locked my only keys into the car. Aaargh.

I bet I was the brightest red of reds at that point. I sheepishly approached the “foreman of parking” or whatever they called him, and in my best Spanish explained what happened to my llave. Did I notice a smirk? He pointed me toward a grey-haired gentlemen, and shouted to him something unintelligible (to my ears), although it was perfectly clear what kind of things he might have been saying. “Hey Juan, another bungling tourist locked his keys in the car.” I walked over to Juan who told me to wait a minute.

10 min later Juan returned loaded with tools. A piece of cardboard (to prevent scratching), two good sized screwdrivers, and a magic wire already formed into a little wedge to capture the lock.

What I realized, as this guy miraculously slithered the magic wire into the narrow gap in the door held open by the screwdrivers, was that this apparently bad luck was actually good luck. People probably do this mistake “all the time” on the ferry. Well maybe not all the time, but the point is that because every car blocks out a bunch of other cars, ferries cannot afford to have any car stopped on their deck by some flustered soul locking in his keys. So they have a special guy who breaks into cars very well. If I had locked my keys in the car anywhere else in Costa Rica, it would certainly be many hours before I got back in it again. Bottom line: It was a good omen that I happened to lock my keys in the car in a place where the fix was right at hand.

Here we are, arrived, on the tip of the Nicoya Peninsula, set to start doing some serious science.