This is what happened to me and my girlfriend 2 weeks ago.
Crime in Cabarete
A few nights ago, Sunday, my girlfriend (the redhead) came and picked me up at work. The plan was to go to sushi in Ocean Dream plaza and drink Saki until we both spoke fluent Japanese. It can be done, but you have to drink a lot of Saki to accomplish it.
We took off from the bar at around 9:00pm. We got about 150 meters down the street when I saw a motorcycle pulling up alongside of me in front of Kaoba hotel.
There is a very dark stretch of road in-between Kaoba hotel and Banco Popular. There are no street lights. Dominican vampires like to hang out there. One of them is a very large, fat vampire; she pick-pockets tourists. A lot of people have had purse snatching incidents and been pick-pocketed on this stretch of road.
I saw a motorcycle coming up beside me in my rear view mirror. He had his front light off. Nothing unusual about that. Dominicans like to conserve electricity.
Because I work at a bar, I know a lot of motoconchos. Too many. We have a lot of them that sit in front of our restaurant. I’ve known a few of them for many years. We use them for all kinds of errands for the restaurant.
The Motoconchos and I sometime play games with each other. When I see them further up the road, I’ll pull up very close to them and pinch their arm or waste. It’s a Dominican thing. Lots of Dominicans do it. So, when I saw this motorcycle coming up next to me with his lights off, I thought, “Ok, this is just one of the motoconchos I know trying to play with me.”
I accelerated on my girlfriend’s scooter. But Miss Yamaha is about as fast as a John Deere riding lawn mower. No, scratch that…that’s an insult to John Deere riding lawn mower’s. You can walk faster than Miss Yamaha.
I waited for the motorcycle to pull up next to me. I saw him. I waited. He came up right next to me, but I was focused on the road ahead, concentrating on avoiding running over stupid tourists who, for some strange reason, feel absolutely compelled to walk in the middle of a dark, unlit road, instead of on a dirt patch next to the road known as this: a sidewalk.
Suddenly, the motorcyclist took off as fast as he pulled up beside me. This was a little strange, but ok, maybe I wasn’t who he thought I was. My girlfriend shouted, “They got my phone! They got my phone!”
“Who?” I asked.
“The two guys that just pulled up next to us!”
Normally, I would have just floored my motorcycle and caught up to them immediately. End of story. Not going to happen today. Not on Miss Yamaha. I floored her alright. She must have reached 25km an hour. I saw a wheelchair pass us. Then I saw the Fat Mama Juana Man pass us. Then a man on crutches passed us...then shoe shine boys, a monkey, and a stray dog…all of them passed us as if we were standing still.
I kept Miss Yamaha floored as we navigated past cars and taxi cabs about as fast as a fork lift. The thieves were two-up on a motorcycle that resembled a motoconcho. They were zig-zagging and serpentining (a word I just made up) through traffic in front of Ocean Dream Plaza. I zig-zagged and serpentine behind them. Unfortunately, I lost sight of them around Gorditos. They were much, much faster than Miss. Yamaha. She was already breathing hard and coughing up blood and not happy. She was not happy at all.
Still, I kept Miss Yamaha floored. I thought, “Oh, what they hell, we got 10 minutes to kill before the Saki gets cold. I also thought…maybe they’ll crash? Maybe they’ll get a flat tire? Maybe they’ll run out of gas? They’re Dominican after all. Any crazy, absurd and bizarre thing can still happen.They might even fall asleep during their get-away. Crazier things have happened in this country. They happen every night. They’re happening right now at the bar.
Once I got past the Esso gas station and Viva Tangerine hotel, I couldn’t even see my own hand. It got dark. Really dark. I kept Miss Yamaha floored. I figured I had another 5 minutes before her engine would explode. I started daydreaming about what I was going to order at Sushi. Maybe spicy tuna. Maybe Kamakazi. Definitely a carafe of hot Saki.
While I engaged to Flux Capacitor on Miss Yahama, I must have hit, oh…I don’t know…maybe 35KM an hour. I saw another wheel chair pass us on the right. This was insane. It was a Turtle and Hare race. Naturally, I was the turtle here, and the thieves were the Hare (rabbit).
After a couple of minutes of driving, I saw what looked like two people pulled over underneath the Punta Goleta Bridge that crosses highway 5 right before Kite Beach. I asked the Redhead, “Is that them?”
“It looks like them!” she replied.
“No, that can’t be them!” I replied.
"Why not?" She asked.
Because thief’s don’t’ just stop on the side of the highway for no reason…unless their crack addicts, suffer from narcolepsy, need to urinate, or just plain stupid. I started pulling up next to them (they were stopped on the right hand side of the road under the bridge). When they saw me, they took off, but they tried to do a U-Turn in the middle of the road and head back to Cabarete.
Perfect. This was the opportunity I was looking for. Since I hadn’t stopped yet, I still had momentum on my side. I had a little too much momentum. I accelerated and ran directly into the side of them as fast as i could. I sent them flying off their motorcycle and across the street to the edge of the road. Unfortunately, the redhead and I also went flying off Miss Yamaha. All four of us were flying through the air—kicking and gauging, screaming and twisting...in the mud, the blood, and the beer.
We all hit the ground and went tumbling into the grassy knoll like tumbleweeds. We were underneath the Punta Goleta Bridge. By the time I got up to chase them, they were already running along the highway and jumping back onto their motorcycle. I grabbed the redhead and the scooter, and we jumped on Miss Yamaha and went after them.
Round 2.
Miss Yamaha was angry at me. Very angry. No, she was furious. She refused to go over 15km an hour. She protested. She rebelled. She screamed. I tried sweet talking her, but she wasn’t hearing any of it. I tried talking logic to her, but you know temperamental women…she wasn’t listening to any logic right now.
We barely made it back to Cabarete. We found a beat up police car patrolling the Cayuhon de la Loma. We stopped them and told them the story. The next day I went around to a few cell phone shacks that break phone software and wipe the phone clean in order to use it again. The redhead’s phone has a password lock on it. I was actually hoping that they would get into the phone—by-passing the password—without having to wipe it clean. The reason I was hoping this was because I have a software on it called “Camera Upload.” It uploads pictures to Dropbox where only I can delete the pictures. Every time a picture is taken, it uploads the pictures up to a cloud service as soon as they connect to the internet. But if they wipe the phone clean, they will take the software off with it.
I sent some motoconchos out to all of the other cell phone shacks in order to describe the phone to them and offer to buy the phone back. So far, no luck. Still, there is one last opportunity to find the phone. We went to the main Orange office today in Puerto Plata. We requested the phone records of every number called starting on Sunday and ending on Wednesday. We’re hoping that the thieves took the SIM car out of the phone and used it on one another phone in order to enjoy the free minutes. Tomorrow, we have to go back to the Orange office in Puerto Plata in order to get a copy of all of the phone calls. If they used the SIM card to make phone calls, then I will have the numbers they called. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.