It was a Saturday a few weeks ago and we had parked the Jeep on Calle 39 just off the Paseo, right around the corner from the Suites del Sol. We were walking with Mac to find the bank where he pays his fideicomiso and it was super hot and we were getting discouraged because nothing was open. I left Malc and Mac on a bench while I ran back to get the Jeeep so we could abandon the plan for the day and go get something to eat. As I was pulling away from the curb a man was trying to get my attention and I, ever the American, was doing my best to ignore him.

I did hear him ask me for my identification, which gave me pause, and when I reached around to my bag realized that my wallet was missing. All at once I noticed the two police cars, four cops, a small man being handcuffed, and a blanket on the sidewalk displaying an array of ragged possessions on the street behind me. So I stopped. I was approached by a policeman who spoke English despite my attempt to speak Spanish with him. I soon realized that I was the victim of a quick and easy crime. Not even a break in, a reach in and grab. And just as easily, apparently, the cops had intervened and the whole mess was being sorted in the lawful light of day.

I confirmed that my wallet contained my license, a bank card and a 200 peso note (when will thieves learn that stealing from me is an exercise in futility?) and when I called my cellular phone from Malcolm’s – which had been in plain site on the dashboard – I heard it ringing in the front shirt pocket of the second in command cop. I just wanted to get the hell out of there and of course was very grateful that justice had been so swift and I didn’t have to arrange for yet another check card when I realized they wanted me to go to the station to file a report or press charges or whatever.

I explained that I needed to find my husband and father-in-law and that I’d be back straight away. When I returned with Malcolms Elder and Younger the officers were pleased to have a man to man to man conversation and assured that there was a rightful owner of the Jeep and that we liked living in Mexico very much and soon my belongings were in hand and we were all three in the Jeep and getting away from the scene of the almost crime feeling unscathed and lucky. They did not expect a mordita, and I dare say they might have been scandalized or offended had we attempted to bribe them. It was, all in all, a tidy non event, which is why I hadn’t mentioned it.

But with all the bad press Mexico gets and since I’d been feeling a little negative of late I thought I’d remind everyone, myself included, what a very civilized place indeed is Merida. The situation was polite, orderly, even matter of fact. The only reason there had been a problem to begin with was that I feel so secure I have gotten careless, leaving my purse out in the open in an unlocked Jeep. So, that’s it, honestly. Anticlimactic really, no ironic ending or madcap denoument, sorry to say. After my money wasn’t stolen we went to Chili’s for some boneless Buffalo wings and Southwestern eggrolls. And it doesn’t get any more outlaw than that, my friends.

Popularity: 13% [?]