The Thief with No Manners

Shopping malls tend to bore me,
 but this night was anything but boring.

--------------- Good ice cream in a dangerous mall

You weren’t there.

In Lima, Peru. In Jockey Plaza, the pride and joy of Peruvian shopping malls. In the food court, sampling different gelatos, gelatos with foreign, mouthwatering names that no one pronounces properly.

You weren’t there. So I won’t get into details about the deliciously tangy taste of the maracuya ice cream that was perfectly placed on my crispy, chocolate cone. Willy Wonka would have used the word scrumdiddlyumptious. But he wasn’t there, just like you weren’t there. No one was there really, no one I knew at least.

And that’s good!

It’s actually really good. Because you would have witnessed a terrifying robbery. I was ticked, and you would have been as well. Shock and sadness would have been yours. The bitter taste of injustice would have been stuck to the top of your tongue. And a night that was once a treat, a night that was once a sweet memory in a bagful of goodies, it would have quickly turned sour. You would have vomited.

You would have hated Peruvian ice cream forever.

--------------- The thief

The thievery of the thief was conventional. He lacked courtesy and respect and kidness and all those sorts of things. He didn’t say please before he snatched away my green, pea-colored, Nike pullover. He just took it, without a second thought.

Needless to say, I thought I’d teach this little crook a lesson. Why? Well, he was a thief with no manners. More importantly, he was a Peruvian with no manners, and that my dear readers, is an unacceptable paradox. Something had to be done.

So prepare yourselves, because the ensuing chase will be told for years. Most Peruvian tales include either a robber, a pick-pocket, or some sort of incredible heist. Add a defiant, American gringo and a shopping mall-sized audience, and you have yourself quite the spectacle.

And that it was, an epic spectacle.

--------------- The decision

My best friend John Fernandez popped into my brain with a bit of unexpected advice. “You’re still in your prime, Sito. Go get him.” I hesitated to oblige. Was it worth it to hunt down this Peruvian grinch? After all, he wasn’t after Christmas - it was just a green pullover!

But I had been waiting for this moment. Numerous times on Skype I had jokingly, but not that jokingly, boasted to my friends and family that I was yet to have gotten robbed. It was a declaration of pride, really, proof that I could survive in a place unforgiving to outsiders.

And I didn’t want to give that up.

--------------- The Chase

Quickly, furiously, my unstreched, athletic legs sprang to life as if I never took a two year sabbatical from soccer. Adrenaline pumped. Legs moved. A certain, athletic confidence began to return to the bones of my body. And I flew.

Yet as I flew, I quickly learned a very important lesson myself; determination, quickness, athleticism - these things mean very little when you realize that your opponent is a swindler. 

Whatever advantage I had in speed, the thief made up for in his slyness. His stealthy movement was wickedly unfair but undeniably graceful, whereas I could only run into poles and bump into people. He ran me in circles. The situation was hopeless. Crude reality set in. I was simply no match for the thief with no manners.

Trickery laughed.

But it did not win, though it really should have. Let it be known that trickery has a horrible, ominous connection with cockiness. And cockiness, well you know about cockiness, it has many ugly relatives.

Upon seeing the large distance between the two of us, the tricky Peruvian got cocky, and he proceeded to do something so utterly astonishing that I nearly tripped over my own two feet.

He smirked at me.

And oh what a smirk it was.

This look, this distinctly Peruvian smirk, it absolutely irked me to the core. To steal and to mock? What nerve! I couldn't believe my eyes. It’s like he wanted to say, “Run, run as fast as you can. You can’t catch me. I’m the gingerbread man.”

And so it happened. The gingerbread thief taunted, and I was provoked. 

I would finish this chase once and for all. 

--------------- The Capture

I eventually caught the gingerbread thief. It was an easy catch in all reality. I sped up a bit and decided to avoid the next few poles as opposed to running into to them. The thief had tired of smirking so seriously, and I had tired of chasing for so long.

So we called it a night. I closed in on the thief, and I opened my arms to wrap him up. But before I could, the thief jumped into my arms. I admit that it was a wildly strange feeling, to look down at a thief utterly delighted to be in my arms. But so it was. Fits of laughter controlled him like a disease, and I knew, deep down I knew, that all along, this thief just wanted somebody to chase him.

I smiled.

And just like that, Fabrizio, the little crook, Fabrizio, the little thief with bad manners, Fabrizio, my four-year old cousin, avoided what was sure to be a boring night at the mall.

From there, the thief and I returned to our melting, maracuya ice cream, but we would not return to reality.

Continuing our game of pretend seemed like a much better option.