The Medellín Diaries (Part 5 of 5)


A few weeks went by when Karl booked a ticket back to Sweden. He wanted a good-paying job for a few months so that he could return and properly marry his girlfriend. He told me it would be “easy” for him to get a job on an oil rig in Norway, but I had my doubts since he had no oil rig experience. In fact he had no professional experience at all, unless you counted his internet scamming and operation of a bar that got shut down by the Greek authorities.

“Did you call Miguel for the weed?” I asked.

“Oh yeah I forgot. How many bags do you want?”

“Two. That should last me for the rest of my time here.”

“You still have a shitload from the first bag. Are you sure you need two?”

“It’s only $5 a bag. I might as well.” It crossed my mind that I’d have a lot of excess to get rid by the time I was ready to leave the country.

“Hey have you been to a casino yet?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“You know I forgot to tell you that casinos are pretty good for meeting girls. There was this American guy I knew that would only pick up girls in the casinos. I mean you go there and there’s a dozen beautiful girls just standing around, and if you’re a gringo who isn’t disgusting you’ll do well. All the other people who go there are deadbeats.”

“I’m kind of off gambling though. I always lose.”

“You really don’t need to gamble. Just play some slots and drink and talk to them. He got a lot of girls from that, and you have to think about why those girls are hired—for their looks. Let’s go now, you’re not doing anything.”

“Okay but I still have to cook dinner. That’s going to take about an hour.”

“Fuck you I’ll get you an empanada. But first let me do a pick-me-up.”

He was already pretty drunk from drinking beer and rum all day, but after he inhaled half a gram of coke he livened up real fast. He was swaying but surprisingly lucid.

We walked into the casino and there were a dozen girls in their tight outfits staring at us, looking bored out of their minds. There was more staff than gamblers.

We sat down at a $2.50 blackjack table with three other Colombians and cashed in $30 each. The blackjack action was far from world-class. A gentleman sitting next to Karl split everything, including 6’s when the dealer was showing a face card. The girl sitting next to him would stay on 12 when the dealer showed an ace. The third person would wait for the dealer to announce her count total before making a move. They kept losing and cashing in more money, at a rate of over $50 an hour. I wondered how people so stupid could have so much money to blow.

Karl and I were the only ones at the table who understood English. I was able to safely mouth off.

Let’s see what this idiot is going to do now.

What the fuck he’s messing up the deck!

Karl lost his $30 immediately, not winning a single hand. It was especially ironic since his job is to game online casinos. I hung in there and kept the drinks coming so he wouldn’t leave. We had some laughs in between moments when I refused to take his advice on how much to increase my bets, even though in the end it would have won me more money. Sometimes Karl annoyed me with his constant inebriation and potential to get my killed, but he was an addicting guy to have around and I knew I was going to miss him when he left.

When it was time to go home (I broke even), he told me he wanted to do some more coke. “You won’t be able to sleep if you do more,” I said.

“Oh it’s okay I have some Ambien.”

The next night was his second-to-last in Colombia. He invited his girlfriend and her family to the gringo mansion for a goodbye dinner. I came back from an impulsive visit to the casino after losing $50 at both blackjack and poker, the latter of which was especially embarrassing since I played in a table tournament and busted out on the first hand dealt. Inside the house I saw balloons and streamers decorating the living room. I took a meek peek inside. A large, half-eaten chocolate cake was on the coffee table with dirty plates surrounding it, and Daddy Yankee was playing at low volume on the portable stereo. Everyone stopped talking to look at me. I introduced myself to Karl’s girlfriend, her parents, her sister, her uncle, her two cousins, her sister’s boyfriend, her sister’s boyfriend’s sister, and a little 2-year-old who was chasing a balloon on the floor. They were friendly but stiff, as if something was wrong. Karl was not in the room.

I walked towards the kitchen to put away some avocados I bought on the street and saw Karl slumping against the wall in the hallway with his head gyrating back and forth. A bottle of beer was in his hand and he was mumbling something I couldn’t understand. True to form, Karl got completely trashed in front of his girlfriend’s parents.

The mother approached me in the kitchen and in a soft voice asked that I take care of him, but there was really nothing I could do. When some guys get drunk they simply can’t hear anything remotely connected to reason or logic, and Karl was way past that stage. The girlfriend’s family gradually left, whispering things to each other with concerned looks on their faces, and no one but the little toddler wore a smile. I felt bad for Karl’s girlfriend, who I doubt has ever been more ashamed in her life.

Every five minutes after that I heard a big crash when Karl fell on the floor in his bedroom. He’d howl my name and tell me to get dressed so we could go to a strip club. “Come on fucker I’ll buy you an empanada,” he repeatedly yelled. “I just need to do a pick-me-up and I’ll be fine. I’m fucking calling Miguel right now.” I closed my door and ignored him. It didn’t take very long for everything to become quiet.

The next day he came into my room groaning in pain. He looked old and beaten.

“I think you have a drinking problem,” I said. “The only time you should not get drunk is in front of your girlfriend’s parents, but you got the drunkest I’ve ever seen you.”

“No it’s these new pills I’m taking. They make me drunk really fast. I’m not used to them.”

“You’re blaming one addiction on the other! It’s just an excuse! Look I don’t care, but your girl has to have a heart of fucking gold after what you did last night.”

“Hah yeah she’s great.”

“Though honestly I’m getting used to your drug problems. Hey speaking of drugs did you call Miguel? I still would like those two bags of weed.”

“Look at you, you drug addict!”

“Please, once or three times a week is not an addiction.”

That night I was on my way out for a date with a cute girl I met at a local university. Karl walked me to the front door where his girlfriend was already waiting behind the gate. She was going to spend one last night with him before he left the country. It was only one day after the dinner party debacle and she was visibly angry, greeting him with the word borracho (drunkard).

“Well at least he’s not drunk right now,” I said, with a cheesy smile.

“Yes but he needs to change,” she said.

“Well maybe a little, but who doesn’t? He’s a great man and I’m lucky to know him.” I squeezed his shoulder like he was my best friend in the world (at that moment he was), and said goodbye. It was the last time I saw him.

The next day a 53-year-old American man with bad arthritis took Karl’s room after the maid decontaminated it with potent chemicals. He immediately asked me how to score some weed and pussy.

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  • CG

    Karl needs to have his own reality show…

  • Todd

    No violent death and your innocence is still intact? What the fuck kind of ending is this? Also, the reason Karl probably got shit-faced at the family gathering is because of his insecurity and anxiety.

  • Anonymous

    Not to sound harsh, but this was kind of pointless. Something that a frat boy would hand in in a College Writing 101 class.
    No real conflict. No arc. No character development. Basically a pointless piece about a dude you knew who gets wasted a lot.

  • The Rookie

    Karl sounds as if he was an extreme tourist. Or could the 53 year old dude keep up?

    The Rookie’s last blog post: The Better Guy.

  • N

    Anonymous, get off your own dick. It was a good read Roosh and I would love to see more like it.

  • Dakota

    I actually had a Norwegian friend a few years ago who went back to Norway to work on an oil rig to save money to come back to Cuba and marry his girlfriend. He decided to surprise her by coming down a few weeks earlier than planned. She was surprised alright. So was he when he went to her house and saw her drinking Bucanneros on the porch with another Norwegian guy who arrived in Cuba 2 days earlier to, not surprisingly, get married to her. She definitely knew how to hedge her bets.

    Dakota’s last blog post: The 2 Best Apple Stores to Pick Up Chicks.

  • Me Guy

    this is great….. i couldn’t stop reading. i want more.

  • CZ

    No, this was cool. Keep it up. I feel like it’s getting somewhere. I agree with Todd. Curious as to how the Karl tale ends –I mean he’s got some charm. And so does Roosh.

  • Wolf

    Interesting story, interesting character this Karl. What you’d call ‘pathetic’ in the classical sense.

    Roosh, pay no attention to these guys bitching about ‘story arc’ – this isn’t fiction, or literature class. It doesn’t have to have an arc or dramatic structure, it just has to be true to what you experienced and be interesting, which this is.

    I hope you a) post more of these stories, and b) take to traveling again so you can write another book. How about visiting Asia or Europe?

  • Tyler

    I like these styles of posts too. I met a lot of guys like this in the military. The best thing about them is that they are willing to go out anytime. The bad part is that you can’t rely on them for anything.

    Tyler’s last blog post: The Swingers Club.

  • Anonymous

    To all who complained of the “ending”: well no shit guys, it is a 5 part *diary*… and diaries don’t have endings, punchline or whatever the fuck you fat americans think.

    Good job, Roosh.

  • Solo

    Karl reminds me of one of my buddies I know. The guy is a bad influence but you love to hang around him cause he is charismatic and always has a great story to tell.

    Solo’s last blog post: Mel Gibson and Lebron.

  • Mike

    This has been good stuff. I wasn’t expecting an “arc” because of the “Diaries” title.

  • Vincent Ignatius

    Do you have anyone edit your work? It may be worth your time to seduce an editor or former editor.

    I dated a girl who worked as a book editor in Manhattan for a few years. She was merely cute and not great in bed, but dumping her was still a stupid thing to do. The proposals and papers she edited for me turned out great. One of the proposals she edited is the reason I got to travel to Europe and the Middle East this year.

    Vincent Ignatius’s last blog post: Making Her Work for It.

  • West LA

    Enjoyed the writing. Agree with defenders here.
    This bit stood out for me:

    “Sometimes Karl annoyed me with his constant inebriation and potential to get my killed, but he was an addicting guy to have around and I knew I was going to miss him when he left.”

    With a bit of editing, it could be one of those exerpts at the top of a story to entice the reader:

    “Sometimes Karl annoyed me with his potential to get me killed, but I knew I was going to miss him when he left.”

    It’s funny to list his potential to get you killed as a minor annoyance which you find quite tolerable.

    Anyway, hope you will continue posting this kind of writing (in addition to other stuff).

  • Jaaa

    Decent story.

    You should try your hand at fiction.

  • Anonymous

    I wonder if Karl got his ass whipped by the DAS for grossly overstretching his visa.

  • Mr. Korea

    Roosh great writing. I always enjoy most of the stuff you put out and I think that you should include mote excerpts from your travels in South America. This has made me want to buy “A dead Bat in Paraguay”. I’ve known a lot of messed up people who come here to Korea from all over.

    Also, it was refreshing to have the comments section free from the g manifestos bullshit for all 5 entries. Fuck that idiot.

  • paultheking

    “Come on fucker I’ll buy you an empanada,” he repeatedly yelled.

    Solid gold!

    paultheking’s last blog post: Take it or leave it attitude.

  • Peso

    Roosh, is there a moral to this story? or is it your way of showing that Colombia is not an easy haven to meet women?

    Frankly I’ll bet its the narcos that get the prettiest women, am I right or am I right?

  • tomtud

    Peso, I think you are right to a degree, you just have to have some cash which the narcos do have.

    By reading Roosh’s posts, I found that meeting colombian women pose the same challenges as meeting women from your own country. On the other hand, it may be easier due to being exotic, or being a potential meal ticket.

    Roosh, great story. Lookin’ forward to reading more of your adventures.

  • roissy

    “and diaries don’t have endings, punchline or whatever the fuck you fat americans think.


    great vignettes. the ending was sad and funny. now i kinda miss the guy.

  • Jaaa

    Roosh, how much does an ounce of coke cost in Medellin?

  • OGNorCal707

    “Come on fucker I’ll buy you an empanada,” that’s some funny shit. That dude definitely sounds like a character, it can be fun hanging out with people like Karl, even though they are considered “losers” by mainstream society. Good story man, I agree that this is a narrative of your real life experience, so no need to develop a plot, arc, ending, like a non-fiction piece. I wonder how old Karl was, I’m imagining he was in his late 20’s or early 30’s?

  • doug

    my favorite line was “his room smelled like anus” did it smell like female or male anus? and how do you know the smell of anus?

  • schwanson

    Fear and Loathing in Karl!

  • Anonymous

    Three cheers for Karl!!!!! Man does he ever remind me of a friend of mine…except my buddy is fat, has no style, and no game…lol

  • Nacirema

    I’ve met my fair share of Karls.

  • Willy Wonka

    Damn, he got trashed like that in front of his girlfriend’s parents? That dude must never be sober.

    I never understood those people that just avoided being sober at all times. Crazy fucking way to live, but they can be fun to hang out with.

    Lol @ Dakota. That’s fucking hilarious.

    Willy Wonka’s last blog post: Prospects or No Prospects?.

  • Anonymous

    “Frankly I’ll bet its the narcos that get the prettiest women, am I right or am I right?”
    Yes. Baller game goes a long way in Colombia, he he.

  • Anonymous

    Looking forward to the Rio diaries… But please Roosh, throw in some sleazy sex stories for added fun.

  • Gabriel

    I enjoyed the entries Roosh. Your succinct writing style made Karl seemed realer. I would love to hang out with a person like him for a night just to get a couple of nice stories out of it.

  • Roosh

    17: He received a hefty fine that he wasn’t too pleased about.

    20: I just wrote this for entertainment value.

    23: Don’t remember exactly but I think it’s like 5-10% of American street value costs.

    24: Early 30’s

  • Anonymous

    more please roosh. i like this stuff

  • sloopJohn

    great stuff Roosh. I wouldn’t let anyone edit something like this, it may take a lot of the character out of it. good job!

  • Anonymous

    Hanging out regularly with the Karl’s of the world can be taxing, it’s like 50% babysitting.

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  • Anonymous

    man you really got to be a retard if you cant score in colombia specially in medellin

  • sirmarjalot

    Hmmm, Ok you wasted alot of time befriending a drug addict :-( when you could have alot of pussy. Monger reports on Medellin are thats its real good.

  • gringoperdido

    Hilarious, Roosh. Entertaining writing! I’m pretty sure that I know “Karl” and the Dutch guy that he got addicted to ambien. I’m assuming you stayed at the guesthouse in Prado, Medellin and the Dutch guy was the owner of the place and named Luc? That’s where I met Karl anyway.

  • Roosh

    Yup the place owned by Luc. I wonder whatever happened to that place.