Trifter

With reference to my title for this article, the noun: fear and the adjective: slow, both apply to me. For anyone that has heard of Hunter. S .Thompson, it will be patently obvious that I added the word: thing to make it a catchy heading.

Anyway; fear; this is what I had none of after wandering and taking in the fascinating sights of Mexico and Central America for almost three months. I had traveled its highways and despite stories of robbery, pickpockets and baggage theft, nothing untoward had befallen me. Indeed, as time went on, and as I met with nothing more than friendly Latin hospitality, the more invulnerable I started to feel.

Maybe my attitude in someway protected me from falling foul of those that might otherwise take advantage. I do believe that if you look like a victim, you have more chance of becoming one. But over-confidence can bring as much trouble as too little confidence – as I was to discover. I had but a few days left and returned to Mexico City to spend them before my return flight home. I felt streetwise and tough enough to wander where I wished, and so I left the tourist area and ventured into the less well lit seedier parts – after dark.

I also committed several other sins of over confidence. I took out with me; my passport (needed it to cash some traveler’s checks) the traveler’s checks, and all the cash from them. Then I went to have some beers.

I was having a good time with the local people, and though it might be easy to imagine that I was set up from the start, I don’t believe that to be the case. In all my time on that trip I met mostly genuinely friendly people – these seemed no different.

But this is where the slow-thing applies. As I walked home (a little drunk but not too bad) I felt I needed a taco, so I stopped to order one from a street-vendor. As I pointed out which kind I wanted; an arm resembling the musculature of a gorilla, (plus fur) clamped round my neck. The last thought I had as I blacked out, was that it was a policeman or soldier that had mistaken me for a criminal – such was the professional way by which this strangle-hold was executed. I woke up some minutes later to people standing concernedly around me shaking there heads. All my money and passport were gone. The taco-vendor gave me a free taco which I gratefully accepted and ate with shaking hands (for some reason I was famished by the experience) then promptly threw up. People off the street got me a taxi and he dropped me off at my hostel with no charge.

It did spoil my last few days in Mexico. Much of my time was spent rushing around trying to arrange a passport before my flight home. Which is no easy task with out any funds to call easily on. But many good people were helpful, and I was bought more than a few beers of the back of the story. I also think that though my assailants were indeed ruthless; they didn’t really harm me. I got off lightly considering what could happen to an unconscious man lying on the floor.