The day my friends and I were almost kidnapped and sold to a drug lord

This story is one of those don’t-ever-mention-it-to-your-parents kind of story and I’ll probably keep it that way until at least 20 years have passed. Consider the details of this event to be every parent’s worst nightmare and every stupid young adult’s average mistake.

We can do this right?

In February of 2010, during an unforgettable grad trip with about 15 of our friends to the beautiful Dominican Republic — one mistake almost cost us our lives. My 3 girlfriends and I decided that it would be the smartest of choices to purchase an “off the records” horseback riding excursion through a sweet old man from one of the beautiful beaches of Puerto Plata. Some of our friends on the trip had already booked fun adventures like a catamaran and a cool dune buggy experience (which also turned out to be a close call), so we decided to do something a little more “low-key”. Our idea of low-key of course turned out to be one of the most intense expeditions of our lives. The old man who showered us with compliments PROMISED there would be other tourists, a full refund if we were dissatisfied and a good bang for our buck. I remember the four of us sitting around the resort pool that day; piña colada in one hand and feet in the cool water. We were ecstatic and could not wait to see the breathtaking views of the exotic Dominican mountains while riding a horse (I mean, how COOL is THAT?). One of our male friends had actually offered to join in on the fun and we quickly shot down the idea because we wanted it to remain a ‘girls thing’. Among us, there was only one girl who previously rode horses as a hobby and the rest of us figured we would be escorted by individual equestrians (Duh).

Horseback riding in the mountains? COOL!

The next morning, we were to meet at 8 am in front of our resort and wait for a tour bus to gather us for a fun-filled day. We had all even dressed in silly equestrian attire in the smoldering heat to really get in the spirit! The excursion “tour bus” drove up to where we were standing and to our surprise, not a single tourist inside the little run-down vehicle. Two teenage boys (who weighed half my size) leaped from behind the van and ushered us onto the very unsafe means of transportation. Although we were all a little uneasy, I was given the chill out look from the other girls and decided to set aside my fear of being taken. We were soon going to find out that the old saying “trust your gut” is one that should be taken very seriously– especially by a bunch of boozing 20something girls on a tropical vacation in a third world country.

We called him “Albino”

I remember feeling really tense as our guide drove(recklessly might I add) through the slums of Puerto Plata and we began to witness extreme poverty, street kids and stray animals. Those aren’t the sort of images you think you’ll take home with you from what you believe to be paradise. I felt a bit sad, a little overwhelmed and somewhat anxious because I wasn’t quite sure what to expect in the hours ahead. We questioned the driver(a calm, cool and collected local) about the other tourists and when we would join them like the sweet old man assured us. He would mutter some words in Spanish and every so often reply with a “yes, yes”. Our apprehension only grew once we arrived at the stable and it looked like it had been an abandoned ranch from one of those sketchy western horror movies. After putting on our filthy ponchos and mud-covered helmets, we hopped on our individual horses(with the help of the two boys who could barely lift us). I should also mention that at this point we realized that these horses were malnourished and looked burdened with the thought of galloping up steep hills. Nonetheless, after a group huddle about overreacting and potentially missing out on the best experience of our lives, we decided to just go with it.  The driver of our tour…let’s call it van, reassured us that we would meet the rest of the tourists once we started our route up to the mountain and that this excursion would be well worth it. So we embarked on our journey and just hoped for the best!

Where the creepy construction guys worked.

We began to feel better once the photo-ops surfaced and we could see the breathtaking views of the mountains. Our tour guide even gave us a few laughs and the nerves started to fade. Then —  the first sign of danger. We come to a full stop and our guide turns around and says to us, “girls, whatever you do, do not look these men in the eyes as we pass them OK?”. Quickly adding, “especially you, who has colored eyes and blonde hair”  while pointing to my friend Erin. Out of mere confusion, we agreed and rode past the six construction men working outside of the million dollar home that we had taken been taking photographs of. As I looked back at the men, the feeling of angst was starting to re-emerge. After the girls and I gave each other a few concerned looks, I said to the man, “can we go back to our resort please?”. He quickly responded that I was being silly and that I shouldn’t let a group of creepy construction men ruin my mood. I protested but after a few minutes I shrugged and figured we had already come this far.

We feel on top of the world!

After a long hour of struggling with whether to lean forward or backward on my horse up the very steep hills and our emaciated horses abruptly reaching for grass at the edge of every cliff — we made it to the top of the mountain. The way I felt in that moment was a true testament to the famous climb in the movie Rocky and the metaphor for rising to challenge. I mean I had just rode a freakin’ horse for the first time in my life all the way up this mountain and nearly kissed death at least five times because my horse was hungry. So it was safe to say that we had all felt somewhat proud of ourselves for not giving up and calling it quits when we were scared because now we had this view, and this memory that would stay with us forever. We took some great photos, took long hard looks at the beautiful scenery we had in front of us and vowed to never forget this moment.

Robin’s horse — always craving that piece of grass at the edge of a cliff!

What happened next is anxiety-attack worthy and I can only do it so much justice on this post because it’s one of those you had to be there moments. Out of nowhere, we went from taking in the crisp fresh air at the top of a mountain to being surrounded by approximately 6 shirtless teenage boys and their machetes. My heart was racing and all of our minds filled with horrific thoughts of what could happen next. Our tour guide maneuvered his way to the front hoping to protect us from what he would later explain as “an attempt to kidnap foreign girls and sell to the drug lords who live in the mountains of the Dominican”. I always thought if I were to ever be in a position like this, that I would definitely keep calm and think quick. The reality was neither of those on this given day because I immediately panicked and began to cry. We couldn’t really understand anything the surprisingly vulgar and aggressive teenagers were saying but we did pick up on one recurring phrase. “Cuánto para las chicas guapas?” they kept shouting in what honestly made me feel like we were a drop of blood in shark infested water. We only knew what this phrase meant because Robin had dated a Colombian guy and said she could piece the words together. The girls and I tried to speak through our tears to one another in order to try and come up with a game plan. Then came the most disturbing thing I have ever seen in my life as one of the youngest of the teenage boys rushed towards us with his horse in attempt to frighten us — and rode the horse as fast as he could towards the edge of the cliff. We watched in horror as the horse tumbled down the mountain, hitting large rocks as it squealed. Fortunately for the boy, he had jumped off just in time and landed safely. I was at a loss for words. I could not believe what I had just seen before my eyes and like a frozen old VHS tape, the scene played over and over and over in my mind. At this point, we were all so shaken, we could barely look at each other.  Luckily for us, the one girl who actually spent most of her life riding horses stepped up to the plate and decided to take charge. In the softest voice, Krystal said “I think I remember our path back to the stable, I’m going to   just go and your horses will follow suit, alright?”. The tour guide yelled a bunch of things in Spanish at the boys, which he later explained was an attempt at scaring them about “all the other tourist who were just behind us”. As subtle as she could, Krystal sent an aggressive kick to her horse who responded quickly and sure enough — our horses moved just as fast. I promise you the feeling I had as I rode that horse was equivalent to what any Olympic equestrian feels as they try to channel every part of them into the race of their life. This was the race of our lives. We made it as far as the ranch without looking back and I still have no idea how we pulled that off.

Needless to say, that was the closest any of us have ever come to death. We expressed our deepest satisfaction with the excursion and vowed to warn as many tourists as we could about the experience. I am sure I have left out details of this story as it all seems somewhat of a blurry nightmare  now but I can promise you that it was every bit of what you can imagine about being in a horror movie. So 20somethings, do your parents a favor and trust them when they say — STAY ON YOUR RESORT!

A shot for survival!