Skewered

It's a distinctive feeling someone lifting up your jacket from behind.

I'm eating meat on a stick brochette style when I feel it. It's the most common street food I've found. Beef skewered with a potato stabbed at the end as they hand it over. This one is the cheapest I've found yet. One sol. Forty cents. Less than half the price of a hot dog back home.

Obviously, I have been the only white person for a few blocks now.

When I arrived to buy one, there were quite a few kids standing around the hibachi, but they all left when I ordered. All but one. Who I figured as the seller's child.

The kid, unfortunately, had three obstacles to success. One, I suspect it's harder to lift from a pocket that is hidden under a rather tight jacket (the jacket in question being my cycling jacket, long enough to cover my backside in case of rain). Two, I don't think he was very good. And three, I keep my money in my front pocket, not my back.