poor kid?

i got robbed. by a kid. who looked me square in the eye, leaned in, smiled his syrupy thick smile while he...

ripped my necklace right off my neck. RIGHT. OFF. MY. NECK.

it's strange because the clearest memory i have is the sound of my necklace snapping. the thick silver chain cracking and echoing in my ears. like a shout in the grand canyon. CRACK...RACK... ACK..CK...K....

the kid turned around and started walking, not running, away... arrogant little bugger. for a moment everything just froze. a slight burning sensation began to heat up on the back of my neck where the chain broke. it must have fueled my adrenaline because before i know it, i've chased him down, got his shirt wrapped around my right hand and i'm shouting, "YOU LITTLE SHIT!!" (very mature of me... i know.) but he's Brazilian and has no clue what i'm yelling. i'm just shouting like a mad woman. he struggles to get out of my grip. his shirt tears. we stumble. he begins to wrestle out of what's left of his shirt. i lose my footing, and WHAM! we hit the floor with a thump. his torn shirt still death gripped in my hand.

the second sound i remember is of my necklace falling through the metal grates we were on top of. specifically, the charms scattering and scraping. again... the echo. he must have dropped it when we fell. i release my death grip.

he's wriggled his way out of his torn shirt by now and is scurrying to get up. in the chaos of it all, he has also lost both of his flip-flops. he runs off, barefoot and shirtless. he was twelve. maybe. somehow i've got one of his sandals in my hand and i watch as he takes off into the carnaval parade. for a split second, and ONLY a split second, i think about throwing the sandal at his head. don't worry... i don't throw the sandal at his head... luckily, my senses kick in and i see that he is just a kid. small, skinny and probably a bit shocked, if not scared. i drop the sandal and five minutes later, i break down into a jitter of tears.

"poor kid." my parents say when i recount the story to them. they are both shaking their heads. huh? poor kid?!? can i get a little "poor me?" ummm... just a little bit?!?

i think it was gandhi who said that he once had his pair of shoes stolen on the train but the man dropped one when he jumped off the train. gandhi then threw the other shoe onto the train tracks. when asked why, he said that the person who stole it obviously needs them more than him, so he may as well give him the pair...

but then again, i've seen slumdog millionaire and i certainly don't want to encourage this kid into a life of ripping people off...

yeah, i'm still workin' this one out. either way, i think my parents are right... 'poor kid' that he has to steal for any reason at all. that just plain sucks.

ps- a quick shout out to my wonderful, sweet friend lizzle. she bought me this necklace before i left for india and then got me another one when i left for south america. it's protected me for both trips. and now, it's somewhere under the streets of salvador... protecting others...