Pairs Well With…”Goin’ Down For Real” by Flo Rida
If you’ve ever gotten robbed, and we’re not talking about losing your dignity at the bar last Saturday night, it might have felt like your world flashed before your eyes in slow motion. In those seconds when it’s all going down for real, it seems like an endless moment. Yet, there are so many details that take place with that three-second span of time. Now, I must state for the record that I didn’t get robbed, but it was a very close call.
So, here I was merely being a Citizen of the World and attempting to cross the street with a friend on the way back from dinner. Crossing the street in Phnom Penh, like Vietnam, means walking and weaving between oncoming traffic. While the motorbikes in Vietnam were intense, they at least knew how to maneuver around pedestrians. Here, there may not be as many, but they will full on take. you. out. Drivers here have no concern for your welfare. None. And, if dealing with traffic isn’t scary enough, I now have two things I have to highly guard: my physical life and my other life, my purse.
I’m now standing in the (non-existant) medium. Think double yellow lined streets in America, sans any cement stump, with traffic whizzing past me in both directions. I’m almost to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. I made it alive, but before I could take those three last steps to the finish line, a motorbike weasels through the open space. “Umm….Hello?!! Don’t you know you’re in my way man?” Rude.
I don’t understand why his bike is rolling. Like, we’re talking motor running, but his feet were pushing him between us and the curb. “Move you’re freakin’ bike bro, or I’m about to move it for you.” He looked down, and I couldn’t quite figure out what he was looking at. My fried rice? My leftovers weren’t all that appealing, but I’d have gladly given them had he asked politely.
All of a sudden, he looked up, staring me straight in the eye. I gave him the hard stare right back. And then it all began…
Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand make a move for what I thought were the leftovers. To cover bases, I death gripped both my purse and take away.
It was my clutch he was after. Duh.
So much happened in those next three seconds.
Mid stare down, dude attempted to rip my clutch (which was also around my wrist) out of my hand. We both yanked at this little black bag of goodness with all the might of our arm strength. I wasn’t letting go, of course, but he had every inch of my arm already outstretched, and on top of it, my arm was losing steam. I had a vision of my phone riding off into the sunset of Cambodia with this clown, which caused me to use any super human strength I had to seal this deal and put a “w” in my corner.
I tugged so hard that as his hand released from my purse, it flung back and sent his knuckles reeling into the side of his motorbike, a pleasant sound of satisfaction in my mind. He took off, and I felt an extreme wave of relief come over me. I was shaken, but more than anything, I was happy that all my shit was once again back in my possession. I didn’t get robbed after all.
Once I got home, I realized just how lucky I was. Score one for Carin!
Moral of the story: Take no shit. Keep your triceps rockin’. Never give up. Always be ready for an unexpected Monday showdown.