I have a feeling I’m about to become immortalized as a blonde joke.
I don’t know what made me more upset: the robbing itself or falling for the oldest trick in the book.
I was opening the door to my apartment building after coming home from a bike ride and there was a guy--late 20s, decked to the nines in bike pro gear--looking up expectantly.
Me: “Are you waiting for Camilo (the guy who lives below me)?”
Guy: “Yeah. Do you ride often?”
Me: “Yeah, but probably not as much as you,” looking at his new clip shoes and Nike spandex shorts.
Five minutes of chatting about biking....
Guy: “Well hey, if you ever want to tag along for a ride with Camilo and I, we know a lot of cool routes around here.”
Me: “Cool, thanks.”
Guy: “Actually, that’s my house right there (points one block away). If you want to walk to the corner with me I’ll pass you my card.”
We walk to the corner and he says, “Actually, I can just put my number in your phone if you want.”
Types his number and hands me back my phone.
We proceed to chat for about 20 minutes about how he went to the UN (Universidad Nacional) and how he and Camilo do lots of extreme sports together and my work at the UN and my experience in Colombia, blah blah blah...
Guy: “But you probably can’t take that bike on any long rides.”
Me: “Why not?”
Guy: “It looks way too heavy.”
Me: (lifting the frame) “No, it’s not too bad.”
Guy takes a hold to “test” the weight of the bike, swings his leg over the frame and before I can say, “You are so full of...” Poof! He’s off, around the corner, never to be seen again.
And I am left standing on the street corner contemplating the feast of lies I had just consumed like it was Thanksgiving Day--feeling torn between strong desires to vomit and to bang my head against a wall.
Did that really just happen? My own idiocy overwhelms me.
But life isn’t all lemons. A mere five hours after the incident, I won a costume contest and the prize money is more than enough to buy a new bike.
So I walked away from the episode with a valuable lesson: Don’t talk to strangers (and always channel shameful rage into perfecting a Black Swan costume).
So sorry you were robbed! I think it must be part of life experience. I've been robbed in Paris and less glamorously, mugged in Phoenix. And, DO NOT hand a stranger your phone...put the number in yourself or next time you may not have a phone!(That's your much older, wiser aunt side of me talking.)
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