Of the car window

About a month ago, I went up to visit the friendly guys who work in Customs and Shipping for the embassy. I ask how our furniture and car are coming along.

So he says, "Your car window was broken when we picked up the car, right?" To which I replied with a stare of silent disbelief.

A couple weeks later, he says "Sorry I thought your car window was broken. It isn't. But was there some sort of problem with the power windows?" So I reply that yes, the rear window on the passenger side doesn't work, you have to use the button up near the driver to get it to go up the last inch. So we agree that all is well.

On Thursday, they tell me my car is here. So I go up to their office just before I leave and they're all gone arleady and my key is sitting out with a tag with my name on it. I happily head out to the parking lot where they said it would be parked, and there it is -- with the space where one would put a front passenger window covered in strapping tape and some weird police-tape stuff that says "Bancafe" on it -- which I assume would be hard to get in the US. You might say I was not thrilled. I manage to drive it home, basically unable to see cross traffic coming from the right, which given the scarcity of stop signs in Guatemala City is something of a challenge. The next morning I talk with the customs guys and they say that the window is not broken, it simply must have fallen off the guide that holds it in place, because you can see the window trapped down in the door. In any case, that's how it came off the boat. So I start the process of getting someone else to pay for a new window.

At lunch time Katherine calls and tells me that she has miraculously fixed the problem. How? By pressing the power window button, which made the window go up. Apparently, someone had seen the window down, and just decided that something must be wrong, and covered it with strapping tape as if it were broken. I suppose all's well that ends well.