was a good and bad a
nd sad 
decision. A three hour Boat
ride on Friday started off the trip well
enough, I tag
ged along with some
peers from school. When we, a group of 9, got there, we were shuffled around from hostel to hostel until we found one that could accomodate all of us.
I really liked montevideo when I arrived. The people seemed nice, down-to-earth, and more relaxed than in Buenos Aires. The architecture was awes
ome, like spanish colonial 80's buildings or something. Plazas were everywhere. We were staying near the plaza Independencia, which I was glad to have remembered later in the night.
After eating (I ate something a kin to the royal red robin burger that I
love so much, but even better) and drinking a lot at dinner we hit the main calle for bars and nightlife, a stone pedestrian street packed with people. I danced and stuff, was having a great time, and some of the girls in our pack wanted to go back to the hostel so I walked them back.
After dropping the girls off and witnessing what was the second street fight I saw that night on my way back to the avenue, I ran into my friend Brad, who was talking to some locals, I started hanging out and speaking in spanish with the guys-who were nice enough-and followed them to another bar.
I bought everyone a lot of drinks and two cab rides. The clubs were dark and the effects of 5 hours of drinking were really catching up with me. The conversations became more slurred and pointless and I wanted to leave.
But instead I got in another cab, paid for it, got out, and started another conversation with a local guy. Leaning on a car and noticing my Spanish was flowing quite well, I suddenly felt my wallet slide from my pocket while in mid-sentence. I was quick to turn and found myself running full speed after this 15- year-old kid. I kept about 6 feet behind him for about three blocks. I remember his face looking back at me, he looked scared and I think he thought I wasn't going to give up until I pounded his fucking face in, which believe me I did want to.
At the third block he threw my wallet in the air, pieces of paper and cards fell to the ground. I stopped, heaving, picking up the pieces, thank god my I found my Visa card on the ground. But all the money had been taken out before the wallet was discharged. I sat drunkenly cussing putting my stuff back together and a policia walked up to me. I told him I had been robbed and pointed in the direction of the kid who was long gone. The officer strolled down the street to where I directed him. I didn't wait for him to return. In all I probably lost about $300 USDollars.
This wasted 24-year-old pack a day smoker was no match for a 15-year-old scared kid. I remember when I was his age I could run like an asshole.
Returing to the club I told the locals I was hanging out with that I was muy triste. They offered to smoke me out. Of course that was the last thing I wanted to do. So one guy told me he loved the United States and gave me some money for a cab. I told the driver to take me to Plaza Independencia.
The next day I walked around so hung over, with a huge headache I was stupefied over what had happened, dragging myself along with the group. We went to the beach and I got a nice tan and napped a bit.
I watched some capoiera dancers and ate this huge sandwich. Later on when we went out again it didn't sit well and I returned to the hostel, which was a good decision.
I sat in the outside patio playing a nylon-guitar I found resting behind the coach. It felt nice to play music for the first time since I left the states. A drunk-young-foriegn couple wandered in and slow danced to the music I played. I could hear them kissing behind me. This was way better than going out, and I decided I don't like the traveler's-night-life at that point.
I left the next morning at 10am and returned to a raining Buenos Aires.
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