The Belt Situation

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On the weekend, my friend Ben was visiting from Canada, so I took him to a Junior game (Junior is Barranquilla's team in Colombia's premier soccer league). Kären came along too, and snapped some photos, so I'll link to those if she puts them up. It was a great time, and I look forward to the next couple of weeks as Junior plays its two remaining games, currently battling for a playoff spot (they're in 4th, with the top 4 teams making it).

But I'm not here to write about the game; instead, I'll be talking about a quirk of large-scale events in Colombia which I've actually written about before (edit: actually, I haven't written about it, but it also happened at the event in that link); namely, the requirement that you check your belt before entering the stadium. Now, the dudes who keep your belt for the duration are just that: dudes. They're not in any sort of Official Belt Check Room in the stadium, nor do they even have a make-shift stand outside, or even a sign. You just give the dude your belt, he scrawls a number on a tiny square of paper, and you hope that you can find him after the game.

So when the time came, we started searching. After starting to worry when we couldn't find the dudes (Ben and I had stupidly checked our belts with different dudes), we realized that we had exited via a different gate than we had entered, and after hiking back to the entrance point Ben's dude was quickly found. The same could not be said for mine. So I asked Ben's dude if he knew where to look, and I was pointed in the direction of a park across the street. So I headed over, looking for a dude in a yellow shirt (that was all I remembered about him), and quickly began to lose hope when I couldn't find him.

However, within about a minute, Ben's dude, having returned his last belt to its owner (Ben), joined me in the search and led me quickly through the park and beyond. We walked pretty far, all the way across the park to a major street and bus route where I finally decided the search was fruitless. I thanked Ben's dude and started to head back.

Just then, Ben's dude spotted my dude hurrying in our direction and yelled to him, catching his attention. I first recognized his yellow shirt, then kinda recognized his face too. But I noticed something else. Something else yellow. He was peeing, as he was walking toward us. Luckily, he stopped moving for the majority of his session, but he didn't turn away, and he didn't stop talking to us.

When he finished, he told me something which I didn't understand, asked me to pay the 1000 peso (50 cent) holding fee, and pointed me back (with his hand, luckily) toward the stadium. Being clueless and not wanting to deal with a guy who had just been peeing while walking, I just went with it as he hurried off in the other direction. When I returned to where Ben's dude was waiting, he yelled at me to run and catch the guy because obviously.

So I ran after him, to the confusion of a group of young guys who had just come from the game. They asked me what was going on and I yelled "my belt but in Spanish!" and continued running. When I caught up with yellow shirt guy just before he escaped across the busy street, I realized the young guys had followed me and were now yelling at the dude for being a jerk (at least I think so, maybe they were yelling at him for peeing while walking, because WHO DOES THAT?!).

So we headed back to where my belt was now being held, with an escort of about 7 strapping young lads berating yellow shirt (and pants?) dude the whole way. We eventually found another dude sitting by the side of the road with, yep, you guessed it, my belt, wrapped around his neck. So the dude was probably telling the truth the whole time. He was just in a hurry cause he had to pee.

Anyway, for the second time using the Colombian Belt System, I eventually got my belt back, against all odds. When the belt was safely in my hands the dude offered up his hand for a shake as token of apology, or something, and I really didn't want to touch it, because you know, but I also didn't want to not shake his hand, so I just went for it.

Before I headed back to Ben and Kären, who were probably really getting nervous by this point, the strapping young lads told me to come with them so I wouldn't get mugged or peed on, until I told them I had friends waiting, so they just settled for lecturing me not to be a dumb Gringo. And to avoid dudes in yellow shirts, because, well, who knows how it got that colour in the first place.