Another day
“Damn you, Damn you!” shouted a man that could only be described as mad.
What’s going on with that dude? He’s running and shouting.
They stole his car said my friend as we spot a silver corolla at full speed.
Two friends, one driving, one leaving forever the country, my brother and I, sharing a car and a red light, witnessing a car robbery. I am in disbelief but calm. This isn’t so uncommon after all: welcome to Venezuela.
Let’s follow them, said my friend driving. I look at him not believing what he just said and while I oppose both my friend leaving the country and my brother oppose my opposition and seem thrilled. I try to protest once more with no avail: what could happen? They argue. The tyranny of the majority wins once more, I give in.
We lose the stolen car quickly, they were going really fast and skipping all red lights. What now? We discuss a few places we could go but none of the places seem good for the time being.
Let’s go home I say. Today is not the day said my friend driving.
As we drive home we start talking about our experiences with the police, I have been stopped before with my friend driving, nothing important or nothing that involved more than two cops. We are decent citizens after all.
The car we are in is identical to the stolen car, same model same color.
When was the last time they stopped you? Asked my brother to my friend driving, I better not answer that before I jinx myself he replied, and while my friend driving said that I spot a police SUV closing the street.
They might be doing a routine operative. I am too naive.
Look they have a gun pointing at us! I thought of it or somebody else said so. I see the gun.
Everything start happening so fast and so slow, it all makes sense but they got it all wrong.
My friend stopped the car quickly, thankfully. We get out.
Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I beg for my life. Words I don’t remember coming out of my mouth but that everybody else does.
Turn back said one voice while twenty policemen were pointing at us from every direction. We are surrounded. My friends, brother and I we all want the same: to cooperate.
The policemen seem inexperienced. There’s disagreement, one voice says hands on the car while other voice shouts hands over the head. What do we do?
Tension. That’s all I feel and everybody does too. The police seems goddamn sure of our guilt, I can feel it. I am afraid for my life. We look guilty.
My heart is racing like it hasn’t in years. For a moment I separate myself from the situation, and allow an outside perspective to invade my mind. I laugh. How can I not? I am not guilty nor did I did anything but the police force might understand it differently, I don’t want to cause my dead or help it. I become as serious as I can. Quickly.
The police is following protocol, taking us one by one. They do their job and their inspection, they realize that we are only guilty of being afraid for our lives. We got nothing to hide besides our fear.
To our relief we are no longer suspects. I am still anxious. It has been quite an adrenaline shot, perhaps a needed one.
They try to ease away the fear, they can smell the fear in us. We were all afraid, policemen included. Maybe this happened in twenty minutes or five.
It felt forever but it passed, like everything else, nothing is forever.
Leave now,
he said,
so we did.
Happy
to be alive
and not dead.
To have
another stupid story
and a reminder that
perhaps
living isn’t so bad.
The ones that got away, the robbers, they got the best deal. All the police force was on the hunt for us, not them. They got away and so we did but at the end we all lost. The police lost valuable time. The owners of the car might never see the car again.
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