How To Get Robbed (Part 2 of 2)

September 7, 2007

Before I could even blink, two of them sat down with us. They were both from Russia and were both very friendly and were all too interested in us for it to be a normal encounter. I looked down and they had empty glasses, which had only moments before contained what I would later find out to be almost $60 wine. And then they asked for another. I asked where the bathroom was, hoping I could slip out the door and into the night. A huge, strapping bouncer was only too happy to escort me to the bathroom and wait outside the door for me to finish.

I stood in the bathroom for a moment, alone, and considered my options. I could go back out, cause a ruckus and try to leave forcefully. I could go back and try to slip out the exit. Or, I could go back, buy the cute Russian girl another drink and probably contract syphilis or gonorrhea. I chose the slipping out the door option.

My attempted slip went badly. When I was just a few feet from the door, two even more burly and strapping bouncers stepped in front of me and, in as menacing a way as possible, told me that I not only wasn’t going anywhere, I also was going to be stuck with a 250 lira bill. Jun came running up to me. He said that he had no idea that this was a shady hooker bar and asked me to forgive him. He paid 150 lira (Of which I never saw) and I paid 100.

I threw the five crisp 20 lira bills I had gotten out of the ATM only a few hours before onto the counter, looked him in the face and told him exactly, exactly what I thought of his lying, cheating, stupid face. I looked over his shoulder and saw the two girls sitting at the table with cold, indifferent looks on their faces. Long tails of ash hung nonchalantly at the end of their skinny, Euro trash cigarettes.

I wanted to punch them in the face. I wanted to punch everyone and everything. I almost did, I came close. Part of me wishes I had—but the words of a carpet salesman of all people were ringing in my ear, “People here want to cheat you. They want to rob you. If you get in a situation like that, it won’t matter how strong you are or how fast you are, how smart you are or how good of a fighter you are—with a gun pointed at you, you are nothing. There are no questions. There is only you and a gun. ”

I couldn’t help but think about the thousands of gun stores I had seen that day (I had even seen a gun/toy store) I looked from the crooked bartender to the crooked bouncers to crooked Jun and to the crooked Russian whores. Everybody was watching me, waiting to see what I was going to do. I decided to do nothing, and I turned on my heel and walked to the door, pushed away the last bouncer that was standing there, and left without looking back.

I did see a very round Dutch guy sitting at a table who couldn’t believe his luck that he was being fawned over be not one, but two beautiful women! The poor guy had a small army of beer bottles and wine glasses and a small bottle of win in a bucket full of ice at his table. I shudder every time I think about what his bill must have been. The poor guy’s look of ecstasy dimmed a bit when he noticed my little altercation and I saw him wondering, and fearing, what could have prompted it. I wanted to help him out, but I left.

Between fight and flight, I chose flight and between scared and angry, I was pissed. I honestly don’t remember being scared at any point. I knew within seconds what was going on but it all happened quicker than I though it would.

I was too pissed to give them the satisfaction of punching them so they could beat me up or shoot me. I was too pissed to stand around and argue with Jun or the bartender or anyone else. I handed over the money, went up to Jun and told him, “You better —-ing hope you never see me again. I’m going to leave and go one direction and you’re going to go off in another and you had better hope that it’s not the same one as me, because I don’t really want to think about what will happen.” And that was that.

So, if you’re looking to get robbed (I mean, it makes a good story, right?), go hang about in Taksim Square and just wait for someone to approach you. Then, follow that squirrelly, little guy anywhere he goes. That’s key. Agree to go to dubious bars and—boom!—it happens. You get robbed. Then come home and get mocked and laughed at by all of your friends and family.