TRAIL OF ASHES TOUR: The adventure continues as Gerry G returns to Negril

[gerryg123]

These young kids, maybe 19 or 20 years old, they come up and say hi to me -- the usual drunk, red-eyed fist bump, ya mon, how ya doin, where you from man-type of greeting. The kid was wearing a sideways Boston Red Sox hat, I remember that much.

So a few moments later, as I am making my way out there door, the kid kind of brushes against me, kind of invades my personal space, and I feel him reaching for my back pocket where my 21 dollars is.

I am like WTF, and I call him out on it, and he is really apologetic: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

I did NOT want to fight, though I am a tough guy and there was a 50-50 urge -- at least -- to punch this fool in the face, and I nearly lost my cool and did just that. Instead, I mad-dogged him hard, just glared into his eyes and did not flinch, and he was scared, or so it seemed, cause I am like 6-1, 250, and he is like 5-9, 140, but I just did not want to see myself in a scenario of a 47-year-old tourist fighting a teen-ager (and maybe his friends? who knows) at 4 a.m. after a Friday night at a crowded club, know what I mean. (no security in sight, BTW, and they did not even charge me to get in.)

I reached back, felt my pocket, and the money was still there, so I figured, whatever, it's all good. So I am like, 'Get the Frick Out, Mo Fo', and he does. Still, lesson learned.

I hop on the scooter, feeling pretty violated -- how do you think this kid would feel if he had traveled 3,000 miles on a vacation and found himself with 500 whites and one of them tried to pick his pocket? -- so I motored back down the hill, then made a left back towards the roundabout.