As a writer, I feel it’s my duty to live the biggest life possible by experiencing new uncharted waters.  It’s no secret that Prostitution is legal in Costa Rica, I heard the Beetle Bar was the most notorious spot to see the action first hand.  With no idea what to expect walking through that door; I was both apprehensive and curious.    The inside had a classy sports bar feel to it, lots of satellite TVs playing a variety of sports, NFL being the main attraction.  There were about 150 guys; mostly Fisherman, Businessman, and Travelers.  The catch was the 350 scantily clad Putas roaming around with a predatory look in their eyes.  I must admit, the majority of them were very attractive, some were downright gorgeous (Maxim cover girl hot), and of course there was the C line up (C standing for Cheapskate I guess). I wasn’t expecting to see so many of them, nor was I expecting such beauty to be able to be purchased at the price of 100$ an hour.                                                              

Interestingly, it was a complete roll reversal, the men sat around leisurely chatting, while the women aggressively eyed, pinched, rubbed, and did whatever possible to get the men’s attention.  If only real life were this grand, I would have never left Jaco.  I got a real kick out of this; one girl after another would come up and touch me while trying to start a conversation. It was a huge ego boost, this coming from someone who has never lacked confidence a day in his life.  I must admit, I was having one hell of a time; it was a little surreal; almost a little hard to believe (emphasis on the word hard).

 I needed to find the source, the man behind the curtain.  It wasn’t long before I was talking to the owner.  He looked every bit the part, greasy, slimly, with constantly running coke inflamed nose.  He would have made the perfect character for a Quentin Tarantino movie.  He broke down the rules for me as follows: always negotiate the price before you leave, never leave any valuables around the room, never leave them out of your sight at your room, and treat them with a respect.   Putas would leave with these men one after another; most of the men were married, and then they would return an hour later to find another willing husband seeking infidelity.  Note to Wives: if your husband and his friends are regularly going on fishy trips to Costa Rica each year, be warned this is why most of them go to Jaco.  The thought of over 75% of the men proudly wearing their wedding rings with no shame was disgusting.  I had no intention of actually leaving with one of the Putas, but it was an interesting experience nonetheless.  I left after a couple hours to try my luck at a real bar, semi aroused with a grotesque feel in my stomach.  I couldn’t help but feel pity for all the poor wives of these degenerate men who pay for sex on vacation.  I never returned to the Beetle Bar again.