I know I can often surprise my friends and families with the things I do, but it’s not often that I surprise myself.
My curiosity seriously gets the best of me sometimes…
As my blog is slowly growing and people are getting more curious I’ve decided that I need to start exposing a little bit more about the adventures of backpacking. I’m going to start writing about the good, the bad and the possibly dangerous.
(As I wrote that, I imagined a cartoon version of me and my blog popping up on the tv. I had a Zorro type of mask with a cape blowing behind me as cartoon me is standing on top of the world and an announcer in the background is saying, “Tune in next time to see what happens to Pablo as he attempts to wrangle a rhino!” or something like that…I’m weird I know)
Anyway….cough cough, what was I saying?
So… did I ever tell you about the time I acted as a translator for a cocaine deal? No? Well…
(Mom if you’re reading this, remember, I came back alive and well, it’s in the past and now it’s a funny story)
I had been in Central America for a few weeks at this point. I have been staying in a hostel for a few days and am friends with a guy from the UK (UK) and a guy from France(Marseilles).
It’s early evening and as we’re having some drinks and playing pool we find out about an outdoor reggae concert that is happening that night just a few blocks down the street.
We finish our drinks, take a shot and head out.
With the music growing louder and the streets becoming more dense with people we make our way to the concert taking place at a local park.
The three of us take turns buying rounds of beer as some reggae groups sing Spanish influenced sounding Bob Marley tunes.
We’re having a hell of time. The music is raging through the speakers and crowd is alive. Strobe lights and lasers fire into the crowds.
We get into some nightclub overlooking the concert where some girls we know buy us rum and coke and hang out with us for a bit.
We head back down and then things slowly start getting crazy…
We’re all dancing when UK leans over and yells, “I’m going to look for some blow”.
I just nod and say I’ll be right here.
I turn back around to see where Marseille went. He’s in the middle of some dance circle with his shirt off going crazy. I decide I need another drink as I’m taking this all in.
Over the next 15 minutes I watch as Marseille gets down with the locals and as UK walks around to random people rubbing his nose with his thumb in a sign to show he’s looking for coke.
I was loving it, such a crazy night.
I lost site of UK and out of nowhere he pops up behind me muttering English to some local guy, talking about how I was his translator.
Pause – My thought process
This is one of those moments when I can be safe, politely decline, walk away and head back to the hostel…or run with it. Say yes, help with the exchange then continue on with the night.
It’s these moments when I ask myself, “What will make the better grandpa story that I can tell my grand-kids when I’m old?”.
To hell with it…
Yeah I’ll translate for you…
To read the rest and find out what happened with the drug deal click here to be directed to the rest of the story on my blog.