As if driving through Honduran traffic wasn't dangerous enough, we decided to put our lives at risk once again by going to watch the Honduras U.S. World Cup qualifying match at the movie theater in the nearby mall. Any doubts we had about how important this game was to the country were quickly dispelled by the entire shopping center packed with Hondurans wearing the national team jerseys. Our fearless leader, El Boludo, caved in to the enormous pressure and actually decided to support the local team by wearing one of these jerseys, for which he received severe ridiculing from Rob and me.
As we walked into the theater, we were greeted by obvious glares from the locals, perhaps a little confused as to why we would try to walk into a standing-room-only theater full of screaming Hondurans. After sitting through an hour and a half of painful soccer the Americans came out on top 2-1 after which our group quickly made our way to the exit. I tried to keep a low profile while Rob and Bobby (a good friend from SHH) wasted no time in talking trash to a couple of ten-year-old Honduran kids in broken Spanish. We were invited to the local club "504" by a couple of very pretty catrachas but decided this would be pushing our luck a little too much. Plus, we have to be up tomorrow at 5 AM to leave for the Mayan ruins of Copan; I think "504" can wait for next weekend (or monday, every day is a party here).
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