The Naked Man and The Mob (Colombia)
I remember smashing whisky cokes at the bar in Houston airport so that I would be drunk enough to sleep on the plane down to South America. When I arrived in Bogata, I booked a hostel on my phone because I had an eighteen hour layover before my next flight to Pasto. It was 1 a.m. when the Taxi driver took me down a handful of desolate alleyways between graffiti painted brick walls before we arrived at the place.
It was a bleak little shit hole. It more so resembled a gas station in the ghetto rather than a hostel. It had metal barred doors at the front where I had to wait as the owner struggled to unlock a series of locks before even getting the bastard open. Well Shit, I thought to myself knowing I was probably going to be murdered while I slept inside this caged off, brick laid box that was eerily being passed off as a safe sleeping zone.
The older man took me to a room on the back side of the little building that had a window facing out to yet another desolate looking alleyway littered with tags and stains across the faded brick walls. I locked the door behind him and and passed out from exhaustion. Those god damn airports hit you like a sleep deprived nightmare.
I woke up to a heavy crash somewhere around 6 a.m. I couldn’t initially remember where I was when I first opened my eyes but the quick, explosive thud against my hostel window jerked me back to the grim reality of the shitty hostel I was in. I opened the window to see a mans face smashed against it with two other men pinning him there by the back of the neck.
It took me a second before I realized the man was butt-naked. His face hysterical but at the same time it almost looked as if he was enjoying it. There was a creepy little grin that was slithering out from the corner of his mouth.
The lucky bastard scrambled out of their grip and shot off back up the road with his dick swingin’. I could see a barrage of people coming from the left running like maniacs as they chased the squirmy little roadrunner off into the distance. Some were holding long sticks and metal frying pans, some were screaming and flailing around but most were just simply running as if not totally aware as to what they were running after.
I walked outside and got a coffee from a little man with a food cart on the side of the road and called a cab to get the fuck out of there.
ESL Wild 