“Señora Gonzales; how good to see you,” I said. “What are you doing in Guatemala?”
Señora Gonzales is one of my favorites of all the little old ladies in Belize.
“Hello, Mr. Dennis,” she said. “I had a little house in Guatemala City and I had to go over there because I sold it. What about you?”
“I just wanted to visit Tikal,” I said. “I haven’t been there in twenty years.”
Five of us waited to board the bus to the Belize border; Señora Gonzales, me, the drunk and two other men.
“That is a very stupid, drunken man,” Señora Gonzales said to me.
The man in question had pulled a roll of cash from his pocket and counted it.
“One thousand dollars U.S.” he said, putting the money back in his pocket.
“There are a lot of thieves in a Guatemala and this bus could get robbed,” the old lady said to the drunk. “You should hide that money in your underwear so no one knows about it.”
“That’s a good idea,” he said.
Halfway between Tikal and the Belize border the bus stopped to pick up two men. Two miles later they stopped the bus and brandished a gun.
“We rob you,” one of them said, nervously. “Put you hand up.”
“You don’t need to waste time with us,” Señora Gonzales said. “That man has a thousand dollars U.S. hidden in his underwear.”
The thieves grabbed the thousand dollars and ran. The drunk was irate. He pointed his finger at the little old lady and said, “You were in with those thieves.”
“No,” she said. “I just thought it would be better if they stole a thousand dollars from you instead of the twenty-five thousand in my purse.”
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