(To the tune of "Alone again" by Gilbert O'Sullivan)
Okay, let's count the incidences of robbery, pickpocketing, kidnapping and attempts related to these crimes since I moved to Nicaragua last year. ( I don't even want to get into the times weird shit has happened to me in the US.)
1) June 2009. 1p. Attempted pickpocketing. I'd been here for all of two weeks and some guy tried to pickpocket me on a crowded city bus. I have huge thighs. There is no way you will get any where near my pockets without me feeling your grubby little hands. I grabbed him around the wrist, looked at him, and said, in English, "You don't want to f-ing do that, dude." And he backed away.
2) October 2009. 8:15a. Kidnapping. (In case you missed it, you can read all about it here.)
3) December 2009. mid-day. Pickpocketing. Jason was flying in for two weeks and we were going traveling. I was on my way in to Managua from the campo to meet him at the airport. I had my wallet in the outer pocket of my bag. I had $80 US in there and my debit card. It was partially my fault for putting my wallet in that pocket. Man that sucked. But Jason was awesome and financed our trip. In exchange for blowjobs and crack rocks. (Or maybe I'm making that last part up. It's actually far more likely that I played tour guide and one day will pay him back by purchasing him a pony once I become famous.)
4) February 2010. Ipod stolen from my birthday party and my room was broken into in Rio Blanco and someone stole my grandmother's ring. The ring was recovered and the perpetrator's ass was kicked.
5) March or April 2010. 2p. Attempted pickpocketing. I was with Gina The Brit and we were walking from Metro Centro to the burrito place. I'd just sent a text message and some sketchy looking kid was standing on the corner. I decided to cross the street. Then he crossed the street. All of a sudden, he came running toward me and put his hand in my pocket. I grabbed his arm, grabbed his shirt and punched him in the face. He did not get anything, but he was trying to pull away from me while I yelled at him in English while ripping his shirt half off before letting go. As he ran down the street, I threw my water bottle at him and yelled, "Hijo de puta. Voy a llamar tu mama." (Son of a bitch, I'm going to call your mother.) I hope his friends made fun of him and his parents kicked his ass for coming home with a torn shirt. I also hope he thinks twice before trying to pickpocket anyone else in BROAD FREAKING DAYLIGHT.
And that brings us up to date. The latest incident happened on Friday night, shortly after 10pm.
Friday night was the grand opening of the new gay discoteca, Lollypop. It was an invitation only, VIP party and I was going as the date of my friend, Rudy. I decided to look the part for the red carpet party (sorry. I don't have any photos. But I was complimented by a drag queen and most of the boys there, so I think I looked the part.)
Before I went to Lollypop, I was planning on making a cameo appearance at a friend's despedida. It was 4 blocks from my house, so I figured I would get my roommate to walk me there.
I was wearing 4 inch heels and my super awesome black and white dress that I had worn to my birthday party. My hair was all fancy and I had my glasses in my tiny black purse so I could put them on later if I decided seeing was necessary. Luis and I were all of one block from our house and my phone rang. It was my ex-boyfriend, Vicente (not Fernandez). So I was talking to him and these three teenagers passed us. (Damn hooligans). They turned around so they were behind us, the girl grabbed my phone out of my hand while I was talking on it, and one of the boys tried to take my purse. He was pulling on it and telling me to give it to him. I said, "No. My glasses are in there." He kept pulling on it (It's nice knowing a bag I bought 4 years ago for $5 is strong enough to withstand potential robbery). My favorite part was the third kid.
These guys had no weapons, but kid #3 was holding a 1.5L plastic bottle of coke over his head like a club. I'm taller than most Nicaraguans anyways, and I was wearing 4 inch heels. So, the boys were about breast level and the girl barely came up to my waist. (okay, maybe I'm exaggerating.) It was ridiculous. What? If I don't give your friend my bag you are going to club me with a plastic coke bottle? Seriously?
Then the police came around the corner, turned on their siren and the kids took off. Those fuckers got away with my phone. They are lucky I was wearing incredibly tall shoes that made it impossible for me to chase after them and kick there asses. It is comforting, though, to know that people also get robbed at night. I was starting to think it was something that only happened in the afternoon.
So, the new plan of action: Always wear my glasses when I am walking somewhere and always wear ass kicking shoes when I think the necessity for some ass kicking may arise.