“We’ve been robbed,” I told Ana. “All of it.” I grabbed the thief, who was no longer acting drunk at all. It was a lesson in travel safety.
It started when both my wife and I had a strong feeling we shouldn’t get on that bus in Cuenca. Neither of us said anything, because a taxi was two dollars, and the bus cost only twenty-five cents. It seems a bit TOO frugal now.
Ana found a seat, but there was no seat for me. I was packed in with the other commuters standing up. I noticed the drunk pushing his way through the crowd, randomly going this way and that, and I knew somethimg was up. I instinctively reached into my pockets to check on my money. I had just visited the ATM. The $170 in my pocket was the most cash we had carried during the entire trip. Still there. The old guy pushed against me like he was trying to find a place to stand comfortably. I checked my again.
Five minutes later some space opened up near Ana, and I moved over to her. When I reached into my pocket again, it was empty, and the other pocket was empty too. I never felt a thing. I told Ana, and saw that the old drunk was still on the bus.
We got...
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