Nickels and Dimes

The Casco Viejo, the old town in Panama City, was no better.  That was right after Customs strip-searched me GETTING ON the plane, so I was still a little fragile.  First thing, some guy in Panama lunges for my bag.  I pulled away quickly; I’m not THAT fragile.  The next day I looked out my window and saw a Panamanian woman holding on to the strap of her bag that had just been slashed, and crying.  I flagged a taxi and boogied.  Mexico wasn’t so bad, except for Oaxaca, though I’ve heard Mexico City is now one of the worst in the world.  Most of my problem in Oaxaca was with parking my truck on the street.  I think it got hit every time.  I don’t think it ever got hit in Mexico City.   Yes, I used to drive in Mexico City.  I even drove in Taxco once, up and up and up, all the way until I found a way to come back down.  But the worst place for larceny was Colombia.  After I got set up on the little drug farce, nothing happened again to me, but it did to many that I met, some under the influence of perfume.  In Colombia, rumor was that they had a school for pickpockets.  They were good.  Mostly I smoked dope there, anywhere and everywhere, hanging with the homies.  I‘ve never been mugged anywhere, or physically assaulted for any reason.