Blogs :: adrenaline is crazy...
A couple weeks ago, our crazy Finland friend Tom came to visit. Of the many stupid, weird things Tom says or questions he asks, the only one I remember is whether or not I had ever been mugged. If you believe in jinxes, blame Tom for the following experience...
The bars in our neighborhood generally suck. If its not the weekend, most are closed. If it is the weekend, most are still empty. We specifically decided to stay in La Candelaria so we would not be out indulging our appetites with fine drinks and exquisite foods. Our original plan to venture into Zona Rosa, our preferred location for causing trouble, hit an unexpected snag this night so we decided to begrudgingly checkout the local scene despite knowing exactly what to expect: boredom.
Soberly walking home after a quick trip to two mostly empty bars and one seriously ugly drunk girl, we walked into yet another snag. Taking a glance over my right shoulder I noticed a short, stocky fellow a mere two steps behind me. David was just a two steps in front and the rest of the street was quite empty. And dark. And quiet. Typically, I speed up the pace when feeling unease, make a warning to David, and veer into a more lighted, populated area. There was no time. In a reversal of normality, I slowed, allowing him to pass. He did not. I heard an "hola amigo", which to me is bullshit, why not say, "hey fucker". A split second later his right arm came up from behind the back with what appeared to be knife.
The next 30 seconds are virtually missing from my memory. I am standing on top of amigo, opposite side of the street, my left foot smashed on his left hand, my left knee dug into his neck, and the rest of my body weight positioned in a manner so as he is not moving, nor struggling. "Tranquillo amigo. Tranquillo amigo," Why is he still calling me his friend? I scouted the location of the knife to find its a sharp piece of glass. Lying in the street a few feet away, I could not reach it without assistance from David who I finally noticed was standing on the other side of the street still, not exactly sure what the fuck just happened or what to do next. Igualmente...
He retrieved the weapon at my request and returned to cover as I contemplated what I was supposed to do next. I wanted to punch mi nuevo amigo in the face, but I stopped just short. Grabbing his right arm, I twisted it behind his back, ready for the break. I let go. Picking him up, I threw him back down la calle, yelling "Run the fuck away...Run the fuuuck away...Ruuun the fuck away." He paused half way down the block, composing himself, not sure what just happened. I, am not sure what just happened. "I will tear your fucking head off..." as I retreated up the street and around the corner into lit territory.
The walk home was brisk. I tried to remember the series of events. Most were vague at first. I cramped up on the three block fastwalk. My heart pounded feverishly. Adrenaline still building up. We entered the apartment and proceeded directly to start laughing. Pouring a glass of vodka, we collected ourselves and captured the damages on camera. It was 5am before I remember falling asleep, the chemicals having finally subsided.
drinks, beer, Bogota, violence, locals, bums, Colombia