A cruel joke

Anyone who's spoken to, written to, or emailed me has undoubtedly heard--in excruciating detail--how much I've been looking forward to the arrival of my car.  Not only do I love that thing, but Managua is not a pedestrian-friendly city, so having transportation is more or less essential to getting to know the city and, perhaps more importantly, getting out of Managua to enjoy the rest of the country.  So you can imagine my extreme and utter joy at the news that my Jeep was arriving on Friday...sweet freedom was on a shipping container, headed for the embassy.  There was a little delay, and my car would be coming in at the end of the day....I skipped the shuttle ride home, not wanting to wait until Monday to pick it up, and was already mentally planning all the places that the Mini-Menace and I could go this weekend.

You can guess where this is going, right?

There I am, sitting in a golf cart, watching the shipping container back up to a big ramp, and barely able to contain my joy, thinking that I'm mere seconds away from driving my own butt home for the first time in nearly 2 months.  The GSO guys cut the seals, opened up the container and.......

NO JEEP.

Despite the paperwork and bill of lading with info to the contrary, the shipping container did not contain my car.  Instead, there was a brand-new white panel / cargo van, just like the kind your mother warned you kidnappers used to snatch disobedient kids like you.  Or me, rather.  I think the guys realized this was probably not my car when I failed to dance with joy as I'd promised.

So, where is my car?  It could be anywhere, for all I know.  GSO assures me that this is just a mix-up with the paperwork and they'll know where my car is on Monday.  We'll see....