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How I Got Robbed in Mexico
Doin' dumb shit, volume #1
Is Mexico Dangerous?
The question everyone wants to know before heading down south of the border. You’ve read the statistics and heard the wild reports on social media.
But what’s the reality of the situation? Is it as bad as they claim?
Millions of gringos head down south for their vacations each and every year. Most return without incident.
Most of the violence is probably just drug cartels killing each other off.
Or so I thought…
Then I made a silly mistake and ended up getting robbed in Mexico. Aka when living south of the border catches up with ya.
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How This Gringo Got Robbed South of the Border
See what had happened was…
I was chilling with a buddy down in Mazatlan, Mexico. He was a local, born and raised in Sinaloa.
Now, Mazatlan is a charming beach town in Sinaloa. It’s also considered a “dangerous” city if you’re looking at the stats.
We’d been exploring the outskirts of the city all day, driving from beach to beach. Eating some food, swimming, taking some pics of the scenery.
It was a good ole’ time.
But it was getting a little late and the sun was about to set. So I asked my buddy where the best spot would be to catch the sunset.
He thought about it for a second and then said he knew of an abandoned house with the best views in Mazatlan – a couple minutes away from where we were.
I was sold.
It truly sounded like the perfect place to end the day. So we made a U-turn and headed back towards the south of the city – before cruising up a small mountainside.
Pulling up to an abandoned house, we hopped out and pop the front door open. Some kid, like 17-18 years old, is sitting inside with his motorcycle and some special “substances” around.
We chat for a minute. Make some small talk. He seems pretty normal. Not the gang-banging type.
So we go further inside and check out the views.
Like truly world-class. Honestly, some of the best damn views I’ve seen in my life. Beach, city, sky, mountain, and more.
Combined with the rundown, abandoned home ensured it was a sight to behold. Hell, all the walls were covered in graffiti – which added to the charm.
I started taking some pics. Baffled that such an amazing view was abandoned. Such a prime piece of real estate and no one living there.
Enjoy some “substances” with the friendly fellow chilling in the abandoned house.
I noticed my phone is dying.
All Hell Breaks Loose
I’m taking a pic when I see something out of the corner of my eye.
I look at my buddy, “What was that?”
Something had just moved, quickly, by the entrance to the room we were in. I get up to see what it was. I didn’t think there was going to be an issue.
Then one guy comes in through the front of the room yelling in rapid-fire Spanish.
I don’t understand a word, but the intention is clear.
I see someone else out of the corner of my eye coming in behind me on the balcony.
We were cornered. In the back room of an abandoned house.
One guy in front of me. With a knife pretty close to my neck. Another guy behind me with his hand reaching into a backpack.
And I couldn’t see outside the room. I had no idea if they had other friends waiting in different areas of the house or out front.
Suffice to say…
This wasn’t a good position to be in.
The dudes are yelling at us to sit down, keep our heads down, and clear out our pockets.
It’s utter chaos.
My mind goes into this weird super-slow mode. That exact same thing that happened to me in El Salvador – when I got jumped down there.
You’ve got lethal weapons within a foot of your body, and your focus goes into hyperdrive.
In some ways, a life or death situation.
Things slow down like crazy and you process information faster than ever before.
Now, I have a policy to avoid violence and confrontation in Latin America.
No bar fights. No senseless ego-puffing confrontations. No white-knighting for these hoes.
Just not worth it down here.
But I wasn’t about to hand over my phone without assessing things real quick. So I slowly look up at the guy who has a knife way too close my neck.
And he’s a fookin’ shrimp. Like 130 lb. Just a tiny dude. Plus, he’s tweaked out. Definitely on drugs.
I had 60-70 lb. on him. If I could catch him unfocused for just a couple seconds, I could get him away from me and dip out.
But I still didn’t know what the guy behind me had.
I didn’t know who was waiting around the other corner of the abandoned house.
I didn’t know who could be sitting out front.
Too many variables at play.
And all the stories of people getting stabbed for cell phones in Colombia begin going through my mind.
People dying because they simply didn’t hand over a smartphone to some shithead with a knife.
Then I looked to my side and my buddy is scared shitless.
I try to say something to him in English.
And while his English is normally conversational, he was struggling to spit out a coherent sentence.
On top of that, the kid who was here before us is legit curled up in the fetal position in the corner tweaking out.
The two “locals” are terrified of this drugged-out twig with a knife in front of me.
If two locals are scared, I’m not gonna chance shit. Not worth it.
Hell, I’m in Sinaloa.
This isn’t the Mayan Rivera. This isn’t exactly the type of place to take risks and act like a tough guy.
It’s the home of the Sinaloa Cartel.
So I hand over my phone. Keep my head down. Like a bitch.
The dudes grab phones from all three of us. They take money from my buddy and the other kid. I didn’t have any.
Then they sprint off and out of the room. Out of the house.
It was the last I saw of them.
When LatAm Strikes Back…
Living south of the border got the best of me here.
One of two times I’ve been jumped in nearly a decade in Latin America.
And both times, I put myself in a stupid situation. I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been at the wrong time of the day.
Asi es la vida.
Probably best to avoid abandoned houses at dusk in dangerous cities, sers.
Ya tu sabes,