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I'm too pooped to write more, so I'm going to be ultra lazy and copy what I wrote just now in an email to a friend:
... I'm in Paris. Getting here was pretty much uneventful, except for a beautiful sunset at JFK and an incident after I landed for the last time. The RER was fine, but the Metro wasn't. Some guy stole my wallet out of my green suitcase, I don't know when he did it--I think maybe when I was letting it trail behind me as I descended the stairs-- but, at the bottom of the stairs in the Metro he got ahead of me and dropped it.Now it's time for a shower and nap.
I yelled, "Hey! That's mine!" I rushed him and grabbed it. (I think from his hands, after he picked it up.)
"It's OK! It's OK!" he shouted defensively as he backed up.
"What do you mean, 'It's OK'???? Asshole!!!" He backed up more to leave, and I rushed him again and hit him several times with my wallet.
Who know I was such a fighter?
Thank god, he dropped it! What a miracle. I checked immediately to see if he lifted anything from the wallet (the usual suspects: money, credit cards) He didn't. Probably didn't have time.
I hate Paris.
;) ...
4 comments:
Mon dieu!
Frenchmen... even the criminals caught red-handed try to turn on the charm.
Good thing you hit him. Really, it's the only way they learn.
*sigh* A similar experience nearly ruined my Parisian experience, except that my wallet wasn't even almost stolen, it was the mere paranoia of being pickpocketed (instilled by my parents, who have been robbed on 3 different continents) that was enough for me.
Sara: I couldn't have said it better myself.
Neel: Damn French. I should've kicked him too.
TH: Yikes! Your poor parents. That sucks.
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