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The second time I felt my life threatened in Colombia was more of a psychological scare than the first.
The Colombians that are in nice clubs (ones with cover charges) are upper class. They have money or their families do.
So when I set out to go to one of the nicest clubs in the capital city, Bogota, I knew I was going to be interacting with a different class of Colombian. Especially when I was paying the equivalent of $25 US dollars just to get in the door, an astronomical sum by Colombian terms.
This time I was accompanied by 3 Australian guys from the hostel. I thought I stood out. All of them were over 6 foot tall, blonde, and absolutely huge. It’s an understatement to say that when I went out with them over the course of a week, we got noticed.
The club was on the 40th floor of a high rise building and had views of the whole city. Once again I found myself on the dance floor. This time there was no salsa but electronic music. The coked-up Aussies (which is almost redundant) weren’t fans of salsa so we were frequenting electronic clubs.
Early in the night I approached a couple different groups of girls without much luck. These upper class girls weren’t curious about my white skin. They’d been there, seen that. But that’s a weak excuse because I seemed to be only one having problems. The tallest and blondest Aussie was dancing real close to a girl behind me. Her friends, one guy, and one girl were watching closely.
The guy was the oldest one in the club. Over 50 and wearing a very nice leather jacket. The girls he was with were in their young 20’s and beautiful. Something didn’t connect.
Like an idiot I thought, “Hey I’ll help my friend and try to distract the other two so he’s got some time to work his magic.” They were hovering around the Aussie and he needed the space.
I tried to start a conversation with the girl and even tried to include the older guy in it. He was not pleased.
In a very relaxed tone, he looked me straight in the eyes and said, “I will fucking have you killed.”
This type of threat normally wouldn’t scare me that much. Especially if I was in the States. But there were all kinds of red flags here that really got to me.
First of all this guy appeared to be a baller - nice clothing, young beautiful girls, in an expensive club. Second, he said, ‘have you killed’ implying he wouldn’t need to do it himself. He had the means to hire someone to do it for him. Lastly, there’s all types of negative stereotypes to overcome from my childhood. Was this guy a Colombian drug dealer?
That’s the second time my life was threatened in Colombia and the one I remember most.
Bonus Story
So now I’m freaked out but something I struggle with is learning my lesson.
Later, in one of the chill-out areas of the club, I notice one of the other Aussies. I throw the word ‘beautiful’ around a lot but in my humble opinion he was talking to two of the hottest girls I’d seen in Colombia. That says A LOT.
I decided he needed some help. From my angle it looked like he was losing the interest of one of them and I didn’t want a cock-block scenario to take place. I walked over, patted the Aussie on the back and weaseled my way in.
The disinterested friend suddenly seemed to become very interested - interested in me. Her eyes lit up as I spoke Spanish to her. She wasn’t understanding the Aussie’s conversation with her friend.
We began talking about salsa and how much I enjoyed it. She asked me about a couple variations of the dance that I’d never heard of.
One of the most awesome moments of my life ensued. A Colombian girl that could easily have been a model told me to place my hands on her hips as she demonstrated the subtle differences in salsa dances.
I’m staying in Bogota forever!
And then he came back. He was at least 6′5 and 250 pounds of muscle. She introduced me to him and said he was from Mexico. She didn’t say boyfriend, but I got the feeling.
I tried my best to not seem intimidated. I started speaking to him Spanish and pointed out a Mexican flag pin he was wearing on his shirt. I reached up and touched it! I touched his Mexican flag pin.
He looked down slowly at my finger on him and then stared at me.
“You don’t have to speak Spanish bro. I speak English.”
He grabbed two flowers from a display case behind us, handed them to the girls, and then dragged both them away from the Aussie and me.
+++++
photo by lornapips
Ha… So are you practicing the stone cold delivery of “I will fucking have you killed” in the mirror for the next time some guy tries to blow up your set?
This story is simultaneously scary and funny, but man… How much does this dude’s life have to suck for threats to kill people to be his initial response in a social setting?
It’s funny how quickly the whole notion of people respecting you for trying to speak their language can be destroyed. I’ve had that “You don’t have to speak Spanish bro. I speak English” thing happen to me. The “When in Rome” axiom pops into my head every time and I kick myself a little for forgetting that sometimes people get off on proving their own skills. That’s fine with me… my Spanish sucks.
So it’s not just a cliche that South America still has a bit of a ‘macho’ culture then! :S
It’s not a cliche at all. S.American guys were very machismo in my experience. I wear tighter pants than the average Joe, and that was not cool with a lot of them.
What a story… Had my eyes glued to the screen which doesn’t usually happen.
For the past week there has been this huge, macho Mexican guy blasting his car sound system outside my front door every morning. I’ve been too intimidated to do anything about it. After reading your story, I felt that nobody should have to deal with such macho nonsense anymore, so I stormed to the door, opened it up and then…whispered softly in my struggling spanish, “Excuse me sir, could you please lower the volume a little?” He stared at me for a moment and then lowered the sound without a word.
Thanks for the inspiration D!
Earl - haha. I didn’t think that story would inspire people to ‘mess’ with macho guys. Glad it worked out though.
Yeah, this story is infinitely cooler than the last one. I can actually see you doing this in my head and i cant stop laughing -”I reached up and touched it! I touched his Mexican flag pin.” You’re revolutionizing the pickup game when you start using awkward kino on dudes.
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RE: The previous 3 comments. You’re doing it wrong.
I always heard to watch out for the druglords girlfriends and they were pretty easy to identify (huge impants, few clothes, etc.). Were these girls different?
I gotta say something here about this kid who said “cheating death”, you must have had a Brady Bunch up bringing. I have been all over Colombia and have never had a problem, have seen people hurt, killed, you name it but have never had a problem. Its all about respect in Latin America, respect of the people, the culture, and space. If your looking for trouble you will find it, and thats why we are not popular anywhere. Stay away from the coke, and enjoy the pretty girls but always respect them or for sure you will end up kidnapped, tortured, and then killed as they believe in the old adage,” eye for an eye”. So the next time your out in a club, and some girl starts talking to you and she is with another guy, better to be polite and then excuse yourself.
Thanks for your comment Dave. Sounds like you’ve been in some heavy sh*t.
I did have a Brady Bunch childhood in comparison to probably close to 99% of the world. And of course my view of danger is going to differ from other’s views.
I don’t really write ‘cheating death’ meaning it literally.