Pick pocketers

What annoys the crap out of me here is everyone constantly reminding me to be wary of pick-pocketers and how awfully dangerous it is to walk around after dark. Incidentally, it’s men who constantly remind me to be careful rather than women. Well, women do it as well and their concern is more about walking around on my own at night.

It annoys the crap out of me because it’s virtually impossible for me to walk around on my own at night. Considering my confusion walking around in daylight, clearly, walking around at night is not really an option for me. It’s so dark and streets are so poorly lit that I cannot see anything. So why the hell would I walk around on my own when I can get a taxi for $2?

The pick-pocketing warning is just as annoying because I tend to carry stuff in my pockets, like my cellphone (or mobile phone in this country) and whatever small amount of cash I have on me at the time. Several times, men (not women) have suggested that I carry everything in a bag. Apparently, my small bag with a clasp is not enough and I really should get one with a zipper. Now, although men here tend to have homoerotic tendencies – kissing on the cheek, hugging, walking arm in arm or arm around shoulders – I have yet to see a man carry around a purse. Therefore I fail to understand their presumptions that a bag with a clasp is less safe than a bag with a zipper. (Of course, I am operating on a presumption that a gay man would be able to provide insightful information on different types of bags and the level of accessibility to their contents.) Not to mention the fact that if someone really wanted to rob me, it would be just easier to snatch my bag with everything in it and keep on walking really fast. Which is basically what happened when I got mugged back in Brooklyn. Fishing anything out of my bag with a clasp is virtually impossible since the lining in shredded and when I try to retrieve items from it, everything is tangled and, with great embarrassment, I have to untangle each item from the raggedy lining.

Clearly pick-pocketers exist and I don’t want to say that I gaily skip down the street with my pockets bulging with stuff. But I am not so retarded that I stand out like an American tourist in a t-shirt, khaki shorts and white sneakers outfitted with a camera dangling from the neck and a secret (or really not so secret) money and passport holder worn under the t-shirt.

I mean, c’mon, I am from New York!

Note: the previous sentence is meant to carry a great deal of sarcasm, followed by an eyeroll. Being lazy at the moment, I don’t feel conveying it to anyone who may not know me well enough to be aware of the depths of its meaning. I hope this explanation will clarify such matters.

Lastly, I just became nostalgic for the days when an American tourist, such as the one mentioned above, would be described carrying a Polaroid camera. Now it’s more likely to be digital camera. I feel so old.