I’d completely forgotten this story. It just happened to pop into my mind this morning. It’s a shame too because I’ve written a whole book about the decade I spent in Lima, and this incident would have fit in perfectly.
I moved to Lima in 2001. I didn’t speak Spanish. I didn’t really know anyone who lived there. 2001 to 2009 turned out to be a major chapter in my life. The chapter started when I went to Peru, and ended when I married my lovely wife. The next chapter went from 2009 to 2017 and involved having children and settling into the role of dad.
None of that might have happened if I hadn’t foiled an assault on Avenida Alfredo Benavides.
I was really adrift in my early days in Lima. I used to walk everywhere so I could learn the city. I was a marathon runner, so walking for 10 or 15 miles didn’t seem like a big deal.
There are buses that go all over Lima that cost next to nothing, but those scared me. I once jumped on a bus and jumped off only to realize I had no idea where I was or how to get home. When all the street signs are in a different language, it’s easy to get turned around. Plus, in the Southern Hemisphere, the sun is in the wrong place.
Eventually, I figured out how to get to the ocean and walked the coast until I came to something I recognized. Fortunately, I picked the right direction when I started walking the coast or who knows where I might have turned up.
In the course of my explorations, I found this little steak house I liked. It was out on Avenida Benavides, and was probably about a five mile walk from where I lived. The walk was mostly through urban areas, but there was one stretch of a couple blocks that was desolate and unnerving.
Getting through that was sort of like the scene in Bambi where Bambi’s mother says they have to be careful in the meadow. There was no cover.
I was walking along this stretch when I noticed this guy hurrying to catch up with me. He had on one of those reddish brown faux leather coats like the guys in gangster movies wear. The man was shorter than me, but he had a solid build with black curly hair and a scruffy beard.
“Hey!” he said, smiling. He caught up to me and started chatting away.
I really didn’t understand him. I caught a few words here and there. I’d already learned that it was best to keep walking. I was going so fast that the guy was almost out of breath just keeping up.
I said a few polite things to try to get rid of him because I wasn’t interested in a conversation.
The interaction took a harsh turn when he gave me a serious look. I heard the words “listen to me” and “gun.” He patted his chest, presumably to indicate where the gun was.
I suppose it would be fair to say I panicked. It’s kind of stunning how fast your mind works when you’re in a crisis situation.
I’d been glancing all around as this guy had come up to me. I already knew that when you’re about to be robbed, it’s generally by a team. One guy is a distraction, the other guys swing the wood.
I’d been keeping my eye out for a trailing car, so I knew that the only thing on the highway was an approaching bus. It was still a little way back but coming fast.
The moment the guy said “gun,” I jumped into the highway and sprinted across the street. I figured if the guy didn’t start shooting right away, every second that went by made it more likely I wouldn’t be hit.
I’ve never been a fast marathon runner, but that doesn’t matter. I knew this little wannabe mafia guy in his faux leather coat wasn’t going to beat me in a foot race. I was a little bit concerned about getting hit by a car, but fortunately nothing was trailing the bus in the blind spot.
I got lucky there.
I jumped the barricade in the middle of the highway, thankful that now I had a shield to protect the bottom half of my body. I was fortunate that there was another break in the traffic, so I was able to cross and then the way closed behind me as cars piled in.
The gunman couldn’t get to me.
I ran as hard as I could until I got to the restaurant, and only then did I look back.
No sign of pursuit.
I went into the restaurant, sat a table, and began to shake.
Who knows? Maybe the guy was just blustering at me. Maybe he was just trying to intimidate me to go with him or hand over the money I happened to have on me.
Or… maybe he was thinking about kidnap and ransom.
To this day, I don’t really know if it was reason or panic that took over. From the moment he started talking to me, I was resentful of the intrusion upon my time. The thought that went through my head was that I didn’t ask for company.
I’ve heard it said that if somebody pulls a gun, you’re better off running. That puts the odds in your favor. First, there’s a chance they might not shoot. Even if they do shoot, there’s a chance they might hesitate. Every second you’re moving away from them makes the shot more difficult.
Seize the moment and run.
I knew I didn’t want to be standing there struggling to understand his instructions and threats.
Jumping into the highway might have been an excessive risk, but it bought me some cover.
Surrendering my autonomy was out of the question, so was appealing to reason. I wasn’t going to wait around for his friends to show up and make my situation hopeless. Some part of my brain said, “This is your best chance to escape, GO!”
And I went.
It turned out well for me.
Maybe there’s something to be said for listening the people who were fortunate enough to live long enough to share their advice.
Then again, maybe it was just dumb luck.
Written and photographed by Walter Rhein