For a few months, I have been planning to write a blog post about how travel is not always “fun”; not always “pleasant”.  That post was supposed to focus on my solemn but important trip to Auschwitz concentration camp last November. After this past weekend, I have an entirely other experience for this topic. One which is sadly much closer to home.

To me, 3-day weekends mean “Grab Your Passport and Go”. Last MLK Day weekend I took a lovely solo trip to Mexico City, the year before that was a fun trip to Rio. This year I decided to join a group of close to 30 fellow travelers who were meeting up in Panama City, Panama.  I arrived Friday evening planning to go straight to the hotel, jump in the shower and get dressed for a night out on the town. This was going to be a weekend of beaches, tours, bars and nonstop laughter with people who love to travel as much as I do.  Instead it was a weekend of hospitals, frantic calls and heavy hearts.  Before I could even pull my “going out” dress out of my luggage, I got the message via Facebook: “We are headed to the hospital…major accident…Come straight to the hospital”.

Wait! What?? I was a bit road weary after spending the night in the Las Vegas airport and this just did not make sense. My mind immediately wanted to minimize what was going on. By accident, they must have meant a small mishap with the folks who had been on a day trip out to the Panamanian countryside. Perhaps someone had twisted their ankle hiking, or got a bad scrape while climbing over some rocks at the watering hole.  But no. I was completely and tragically wrong.

I can’t and don’t really even want to go into details about exactly what happened. Basically, a bad car accident had occurred and those of us who were just arriving to Panama were scrambling to find out what had happened to who and where we could find them.  We heard that the 13 people in the van had been taken to 3 different hospitals but who was where and in what state of health?  We waited in hospital ER lobbies and after we were told no more visitors would be seen, we retreated to a local restaurant to refuel and decipher what was known.  For most of us, we were dealing with a new city and a foreign language, which only added to the confusion.  We were reliant on the few that could translate Spanish, on inaccurate news reports and intermittent access to WiFi to help us keep in touch.

With time our nightmares were confirmed. Of our 13 friends, two were dead and the other 11 had various injuries that required everything from stitches to major surgery.  How could our fun adventure trip have turned so tragic so quickly?  Those who were in the van all said that right up until the accident they were having the time of their lives.

Families were notified, the US embassy contacted, and hospital bedsides visited whenever we were allowed. Some were released from the hospital with bandages and bags of painkillers and they flew home the next day, anxious to be away from the horrific accident and close to family.  Others were released but not cleared to fly and still others remained in the hospital.

For those of us who’d flown to Panama but had not participated in this day trip, we quickly formed a tight knit group, sharing information as it trickled in, offering prayers of support and giving tight hugs when the reality became way too much.  We were friends, we were a unit, we were a Tribe.

And while there were 30 or so of us on the ground in Panama, there were literally thousands of others around the globe offering prayers and monetary donations to help with the spiraling medical bills and costs needed to fly in shocked and grieving family members. Just a few hours after the call went out, $10,000 dollars had been raised to help those affected. Within a day there was $30,000 in donations.  The situation was tragic but the level of support was just amazing beyond words.

If anyone would like to donate even just a few dollars to help those who are injured and their families, you can do so through paypal using the email address nomadnessx@gmail.com (please add the note “Panama Support”).

I’m on my way home now, and though I’m glad to be going back to the things that bring me comfort, the further I get from the folks who I spent the last two days with, the more lost and saddened I feel.  I hadn’t realized how much everyone’s support had lifted me up. I may not have known the whole group terribly well going into the trip, but our time together was incredibly important – something we’ll always share. While we shed tears together and bowed our heads together, we also found moments to share much needed laughter and develop deeper friendships.

Today I can’t help but think of the two that we lost. So tragic, so cruel so unnecessary. Yet we all had to agree that they left this earth doing something they loved. Traveling, while surrounded by friends, laughing and cracking jokes and making memories. They weren’t sitting on a couch wishing they were doing something adventurous…they were living life. They were having the trip we had all hoped to have right up until things went horribly wrong.  They went out on a high.

I am not sure why, but as I was taking a shower last night, this song popped into my head. I’ve been listening to it the whole way home on repeat. I don’t know if this is the kind of music either of the two would have listened to, but something about the lyrics and the beat just seems right.  They were called home – they will be missed.

On my…way Home…I look …at STARS.

“Look At Stars” by SBTRKT