Misadventures In Latin America

By Miss Adventures

Stray

Verb: move away aimlessly from a group or from the right course or place

Noun: a stray person or thing, especially a domestic animal.

I should have known better. I do know better. Sometimes I just enjoy the social experiment and finding out what will happen. Sometimes I just need to learn things the hard way. I met him at the park, an artesano from Honduras, on the road selling jewelry, juggling and spinning fire poi to make a buck. He was tall, dark and handsome. He was a bit mysterious, and incredibly charming. It only took two weeks before I let him in. We spent a lot of time hanging out at parque central and on my patio. We played music. We talked. We enjoyed a little hierba buena.

We often ate dinner together. He was too skinny, and I hate to eat alone. I never really felt like I let my guard down, but I had started to feel like we were friends. He always vaguely smelled of varsol or gasoline, but I just chalked that up to his fire crafts.

When he asked me to borrow Q250 my first response was to laugh and say no way Josue (*real name). After pleading his case and giving me some sob story about a sick mother in Spain I said, sure why not. He assured me this was only a loan and gave me an exact date of repayment. I lent him the money fully expecting to never get it back. I´m gullible, but I’m not stupid.

A couple of days later I was trying to get my life together after a weekend of chelas and chicharrones. I finally decided to get my Guate phone out so I could buy a new SIM card and start using it. That’s when I discovered my phone was gone. I ripped my whole place apart, searched in the daylight, with a flashlight, I didn’t want to believe it was true. We were friends, I thought. Mother fucker.

I was pretty mad. Furious, really. I made a plan. It just so happens there was a pirate-themed pub crawl that night, and as we swooped through parque central in head to toe pirate regalia, full of piss and vinegar and Quetzalteca, I took off my pirate hat, strolled up to his table of wares and casually pillaged his loot. Yarrr me booty!

Bromeando! That is definitely the revenge I planned, but unsurprisingly, this chico had already changed lugares and was long gone from Xela. A couple of his friends had told me they knew about the loan, and when I told them he stole my phone too they seemed genuinely surprised. They told me he was in Guate city and I briefly considered trying to track him down, but ultimately realized I was better off cutting my losses and taking it on the chin.

Moral of the story: Suck it up sucka. Every pirate just wants a little booty.

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