I don’t want to say that ‘I’ve seen it all’ when it comes to tricks, but as my grandpa used to say, ‘you have to get up pretty early in the morning’ to have one over on me. there’s the ‘football dance’ in Barcelona that I will never take part in. if you throw me your baby in Croatia, I won’t catch it. cute girls in Jakarta won’t be convincing me to buy them a cocktail and god help whoever tries to ‘roofie’ me as I’ve spent the past 12 years building up a tolerance

long story short: I know a good scam when I see one.

at least, I thought I did.

he wanted to shine my shoes, but I had on New Balance, so didn’t need it. he said ‘no problem’ and went ahead in front of me. before he crossed the street, a brush fell out of his large ornamental shoe box ['shoe box'? is there a correct name for that?]. being a good Christian + American + Southern boy, I picked it up and touched him on the shoulder. he looked surprised at first, then realized what a wonderful thing I had just done for him and thanked me over-and-over. he put down his shoe box [?] and grabbed my foot, motioning to his heart it was the least he could do and brushed it off. then the other.

how nice of him! how nice of me! what nice people we are!!

and then he asked for money.

and then I gave him some money.

oh sure, I could have said ‘no’ and walked away with my newly-brushed trainers, but there was something about being caught up in the whole ‘international do-gooder’ scenario that makes it virtually impossible to switch back to ‘hard-nosed experienced traveler’.

the Italian couple who walked by Adela said they saw it happen a few times the day before.

as did we that day.

twice, in fact.

but did I once intervene while it was all going down?

gosh, no.

because if misery loves company then the scammed invite the whole fucking neighborhood.