Earlier today my best friend’s parents had a sadly common Caracas scare: armed thugs entered the house to rob them; tied them up and proceed to threat them with guns to say where the items of value were hidden (not even thiefs want Venezuelan cash anymore).
Luckily, the police arrived quickly and the criminals escaped without a hostage situation.
I’m now going to bed sad, because of how happy I was that they were both ok. It’s not always the case.
Still, how buried underground the bar has to be, when you actually tell your friend that you’re grateful that — other than his mom being freaked out and probably traumatized — everyone is ok.
I worry of how far my standards have fallen. And I’m in the relative near-mythical state of comfort in Miami. What other shitty kind of things are Venezuelans being grateful for everyday?