I'd been planning my move to Panama for months. I had a project management chart of everything that needed to be accomplished along with the timeline. The most important elements included putting my house on the market in Dallas, selling as much furniture and household goods as possible, buying a new wardrobe of 1-layer summer clothes, and getting the proper documentation to take my dogs into Panama.
The week prior to moving, I stopped eating or sleeping regularly. My stress level was the highest it's ever been. Trying to manage 37,000 moving pieces by myself was taking it's toll.
When the Departure Day finally arrived, I was a machine of activity. I had 3 suitcases, a roller bag, a dog in a Sherpa bag to carry on the plane, and a dog in a crate to be checked. I even had a backup crate in case their was a problem with the first crate. I was leaving nothing to chance.
My girlfriends took me to the airport almost 3 hours early. DFW Airport is like a well-oiled machine, and check-in usually only takes minutes. But this move to Panama was too big, so I got to the airport much earlier than necessary. As it turns out, I needed every minute. I was flying first class because I didn't want to deal with the hassle of coach with everything that had to be done. The check-in agents at first class were less than friendly and did everything possible to make my check-in harder. After an hour at the counter, my girlfriends had to make a frantic trip to the pet supply store to buy a different dog crate.... #3 had to be the charm. Because I don't want you to go through the same problems, I have an entire page dedicated to what you need to do to make the process easier. Click here to learn how to bring your dogs into Panama.
Getting into Panama was much easier than leaving Dallas. As long as you have the proper paperwork, it's a simple process. My good friend David picked me up from the airport and we drove from Panama City to Coronado--one of the premier beach areas--in record time because it was so late at night. My girlfriend, Liz, had just left for Australia and was letting me stay in her house for a few weeks. She had left the key under the mat, but we couldn't get the key to work.
After giving up on using the key, David started trying to jimmy the windows. The security guard saw someone was trying to break into Liz's house and came over with a posture of aggressiveness. When he saw me in my big hat, dressy dress, and two fluffy little dogs he immediately went from defensive to helpful. The funniest part of the whole evening is that the security guard did the "breaking and entering." He got a ladder and went in through the bathroom window. I suppose if Plan A doesn't work for me, I could have a lucrative career as a Southern Belle Burglar.
The week prior to moving, I stopped eating or sleeping regularly. My stress level was the highest it's ever been. Trying to manage 37,000 moving pieces by myself was taking it's toll.
When the Departure Day finally arrived, I was a machine of activity. I had 3 suitcases, a roller bag, a dog in a Sherpa bag to carry on the plane, and a dog in a crate to be checked. I even had a backup crate in case their was a problem with the first crate. I was leaving nothing to chance.
My girlfriends took me to the airport almost 3 hours early. DFW Airport is like a well-oiled machine, and check-in usually only takes minutes. But this move to Panama was too big, so I got to the airport much earlier than necessary. As it turns out, I needed every minute. I was flying first class because I didn't want to deal with the hassle of coach with everything that had to be done. The check-in agents at first class were less than friendly and did everything possible to make my check-in harder. After an hour at the counter, my girlfriends had to make a frantic trip to the pet supply store to buy a different dog crate.... #3 had to be the charm. Because I don't want you to go through the same problems, I have an entire page dedicated to what you need to do to make the process easier. Click here to learn how to bring your dogs into Panama.
Getting into Panama was much easier than leaving Dallas. As long as you have the proper paperwork, it's a simple process. My good friend David picked me up from the airport and we drove from Panama City to Coronado--one of the premier beach areas--in record time because it was so late at night. My girlfriend, Liz, had just left for Australia and was letting me stay in her house for a few weeks. She had left the key under the mat, but we couldn't get the key to work.
After giving up on using the key, David started trying to jimmy the windows. The security guard saw someone was trying to break into Liz's house and came over with a posture of aggressiveness. When he saw me in my big hat, dressy dress, and two fluffy little dogs he immediately went from defensive to helpful. The funniest part of the whole evening is that the security guard did the "breaking and entering." He got a ladder and went in through the bathroom window. I suppose if Plan A doesn't work for me, I could have a lucrative career as a Southern Belle Burglar.
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