Now, I’m not going to say in which country this happened. Because I don’t want my readers to unfairly judge a country they haven’t visited. What happened to me could have happened to anyone, in any major city the world over.
I had a clearly drug affected individual try to rob me. I resisted and they pulled a knife and stabbed me twice in the right arm, as I held them at bay. No major damage was done. And my attacker got nothing except a long stay in prison to think about their poor life choices. Hopefully, their time in prison will help them get off the drugs and turn their life around.
It was an altercation that I won. And I could have sent my attacker to the ICU with a single punch. Because I was much larger. But I won without injuring the other party at all.
From the looks on the faces of all the bystanders nearby, I also won their respect for Aussies everywhere. I doubt anyone in that particular barrio will be quick to try and rob another Australian.
We don’t back down and we don’t run away. And If stabbed, well, we will calmly grab our attacker by the throat and seek police assistance.
Here’s what happened.
I got stabbed in South America!
When Did I Get Stabbed?
It was about 8pm on a Monday night. The street was well lit and the area was busy. The whole thing was caught on police CCTV cameras from multiple angles.
I wasn’t walking down dark and deserted back allies. It wasn’t in the early hours of the morning. All the shops were open and the locals were just going about their lives. Even the police were nearby. After the altercation, I walked less than 50 meters to flag down a large contingent of police officers.
What happened was just a case of one individuals poor life choices. And the negative effects drugs have on the thought processes of those that take them. I just happened to be the random person chosen for the attack. When the drugs short circuited their brain. And I was the worst person this individual could have picked to try and rob.
How Did I Get Stabbed In South America?
My attacker was female. And half my size. She was literally nipple height on me. I towered more than a foot above her and was nearly double her bodyweight.
Walking across a busy and well lit intersection, she began to follow me. So, I walked away from her and tried to extend my distance.
But she kept after me and by the time we reached the other side of the intersection, she was grabbing at me. Trying to stick her hands in my pockets. I pushed her away and told her ‘no’, before continuing to walk away.
She kept lurching forward and trying again. I guess my reluctance to hit her might have given her confidence. But due to her size, I didn’t want to hit her.
A single punch from me would have killed her. My wrist was almost the same thickness as her neck. And her wrists bones weren’t much thicker than my thumb. It would have taken nothing for me to dismantle her.
I must have pushed her off me at least 3 or 4 times. Each time with increasing force, to warn her to stop and all the while telling her no. On the final try, she began fumbling in her pocket for what I could see was a switchblade knife with a black handle.
I watched as she pulled it out, flicked up the blade and rammed it into my forearm a couple of times. Before I grabbed her wrist and lifted the knife out of my arm. I then shoved her backwards and she tumbled over.
Once she was on the ground and picking herself up, I calmly walked back across the road. I walked into a local bodega and requested they call the police. Yet, as they were calling the police, two officers on a motorcycle rode up and I flagged them down.
Taking the police along the path back to where it happened, I gave them an accurate description of my assailant. And I pointed out all the police CCTV cameras that caught the event.
Was My Attacker Still There When The Police Arrived?
It was less than 2-3 minutes until the police were where I last saw my attacker. All the onlookers, not wanting to get involved with the police, had vanished back inside their premises. With the exception of 3 that clearly saw the whole incident.
And these three knew where she went. And were perhaps hiding her in their shop. I could have pointed them out and set the police on them. Forcing them to give statements.
Instead, I rolled up by my blood soaked sleeve and let them see my tattoos. They’d already seen that I don’t back down or flinch when a knife is pulled on me, or when I’m stabbed, that I don’t lose my composure. I don’t even get angry.
I could tell from the looks on their faces, that I won some serious respect from those onlookers. And they won’t ever choose to tangle with an Australian.
I pointed out all the cameras that caught the incident. The three directions she could have taken to get away. Each path had live police CCTV. There was nowhere she could go without being seen.
And I told the police her height, build, tattoos and what she was wearing. She had no way of escaping from the police.
Were The Police Officers Professional?
The police were extremely professional. They ferried the blood soaked Australian to the emergency room in the back of their police van with a motorcycle police escort.
They helped me navigate my way through the hospital system and get all the stitches and injections that I required. And then they escorted me home in a taxi. Not leaving my side until I was back in my building.
I can’t praise these police officers enough. I would love to name them and the Latin American country in which they work. But I don’t want to taint the image of their beautiful country.
They were absolute champions. Really nice guys who were proud of their nation. And when I was asked my profession and I said travel blogger, you could see from their facial expressions that their hearts sank.
But, like I told those brilliant police officers then and there, I will never name their country directly. And I will never contribute to a negative perception of their beautiful city.
You can’t judge a nation by the actions of a few bad apples in a big city. Throughout the whole incident, I met far more exceptional people worthy of praise than could ever be tainted by the actions of one drug riddled idiot.
Always Travel With Comprehensive Travel Insurance!
What happened to me could have happened to anybody visiting any big city, anywhere in the world. It’s why you can’t lay the blame on a single nation and its people. It’s also why I’m always harping on about never traveling without comprehensive medical insurance.
Im 6ft tall, big and heavily tattooed. And I still got stabbed by a 5ft nothing random crackhead in the middle of busy district. You can plan for every eventuality and you can take all precautions. But then again, you can still be unlucky.
For the things you can’t prepare for, that do require urgent medical care, always have medical insurance when traveling. I don’t travel without it. And neither should you!
I get all of my policies from visitorscoverage.com
