I was a pick-pocket victim Friday night.

In hindsight, I should have known better.

As a matter of fact, Leslie and I debated which bus route to take, but…

Friday had been a good day for us.  We now had 7 weeks of Spanish class under our belts with a good beginning foundation of grammar, sustantivos (nouns), verbos and the like.  But we now needed to start speaking and getting the words out.

So that afternoon we made our first trip across town to a small language school run by Jose and Teresa who would now start teaching us how to speak.  Teresa, an accomplished and excellent teacher, met one-on-one with us for about an hour and a half, helping us take our first baby steps into speech.

We got back to the Casa at dinner time and decided to go to our friend’s restaurante for dinner.  We had 2 potential bus routes to take.  We decided to take the MetroBus up the major street of Insurgentes, even though we knew all the buses would be jam packed at rush hour.  We could have taken the bus (much less packed) that runs parallel just one block over, but that would have meant walking an extra block to the restaurante, so…

We skipped the first 2 buses because they were jammed.  But when we decided to catch the next one, we were caught in a tight vise of people and and found we were shoved, crammed and jammed tightly into the bus.  It’s the hardest I’d ever been jammed into a bus.  Leslie looked down at her purse and was alarmed to see the zipper was open – it was obvious someone had tried to get in.  I immediately put my hand into my front pocket and yes, my wallet had seconds ago been stolen.