How I lost my International Newsweek (emails from abroad)

So I know that I said that you all had probably seen the last of my group emails, but I promise that this one is worth it.

Yesterday, to take a break from the studying that I was not doing for this week's exams, I picked up the International version of Newsweek that I had bought for 4€ last week in the Barcelona airport. As some of you know, Newsweek is MY magazine. I love this thing. I could read it non-stop for days and be as happy as a clam. Well, yesterday's was no different. I was highlighting, tearing out pages to keep, getting madder and madder about the current world situation, and then had to fold it up and take it with me for my lunch plans.

Well, as tends to happen when one is trying to study, lunch turned into coffee, which turned into shopping, which turned into drinks, which was then turning into dinner. I was hanging out with a group of about 5 splendid conversationalists at this point, and thoroughly enjoying the afternoon. As our group left the Thai bar to go to the Chinese Restaurant (hey, what can I say, we're cultured) I heard some shouting in the intersection about 50 feet ahead of us. I figured someone was hurt, so I jogged forward to see if I could help.

That jog turned into a dead sprint as I realized this little old lady had just been attacked and robbed, and now there were two guys trying to chase down the thief. Without even thinking, I kicked off my flip-flops in the middle of the street, and sprinted after. Spaniards tend to be heavy smokers, so I was not surprised at all when I passed both of the other chasers and became the guy in the lead. I followed for about four blocks screaming "Ladron, Ladron!" as I tried not to slip on the crosswalk paint on pavement wet from the recent rain.

I was within about 5 feet of the thief, when he bent down and picked up a large rock from the ground. I didn't even think, but just responded and the next thing I know, I have him from behind, in a semi-headlock half-nelson (see... 6th grade wrestling did do something for me). The man is waving around trying to get me with the rock, and punching me as best he can with the other hand. I twisted his arm so he dropped the rock, and then the 2nd chaser came up and helped me restrain the man, who still held a shiny black leather purse in his hand. One of my first reactions was "Dude, that is SOO not your color."

At that point, a spectator came up and started punching the thief, whose head is now securely between my chest and my fore-arm. So I swing around to then protect the thief, and the 2nd guy tries to get this 3rd guy away. At that point a plain-clothed police officer shows up, flashes a badge, and asks me to continue retraining the guy. Hmmm... Okay. We make the thief sit down until the old lady has had a chance to make her way over from where she was first robbed and ID her purse (Well its certainly not mine! Mine is red.)

While we were waiting, the thief tries to tell the cop that it was not him who stole the purse, but ME. I kinda just laughed, pointed at my bare feet and comment, "No tengo zapatos. ¿A quien voy a robar sin zapatos?" (I don't have shoes, who am I going to rob without shoes?) The Policia seemed to take that as definitive proof that I could not, indeed, be the robber.

So the little old lady makes her way over, and is just sobbing. Relieved to have her purse, she has a large gash along the side of her arm from the incident. She IDs the purse, IDs the robber, and then the Policia makes us go into the nearest shop to call for a squad car. And just our luck, the nearest shop is a porn store. Great... (Dad, remind you of a similar situation in New Orleans?) Anyway, our whole rabble packs in among the racy videos, magazines and other delightful memorabilia (with the little old lady) and stand there waiting for a car. Everyone seems to be pretty puzzled by my bare feet, even as I try to explain, still breathless and zonked out from adrenaline, that I had kicked them off in pursuit.

The police came, took the bad guy away, took the viejita off to the hospital to check out her arm, and I went off to my Chinese meal. A friend had grabbed my flip-flops saying, "One minuted you were there, the next I was just staring at a pair of sandals..." I had to go and give a statement today, and tomorrow I get to have my first (and hopefully only) experience in front of a Spanish Judge. Well I guess if I needed an excuse not to study, here it is. (not that I have ever needed one).

But as I chugged down some water, and ate my spring roll appetizer, I quickly swore out loud. I remembered that as I was running, my 4€ Newsweek had fallen out of my bag. It was one of those things that passes so quickly so your consciousness that you simply move on, until you realize that your beloved magazine is now sitting in a rainy street. But I suppose that as far as losing reading material goes, this is a pretty darn good story.

All my love,
Christian

Antonio: "Dude, your a hero"
Christian: "Nah, I'm a Boy Scout."