Pickpocket in Paris

Beware of pickpockets they say, especially in Paris. Maybe it is from watching Les Mis so many times. Or maybe it is just what people say to you before you go off on an adventure in a big city.

Still, I kept my cross body purse held with my hand tightly to the front of my body each time I walked the streets of Paris alone. Along the Seine was the only place that made me pause now and make me scream at myself to use my head. Still, all I can think of now is that it was a pretty good thing that at the time where I wasn’t using my head as much as I should have, high after spending a good hour or so in Shakespeare and Co., that I spoke terrible French and could understand it even more terribly.

The sun shone down on me as I walked along past street vendors and postcard sellers that sat in fold-able chairs and scrolling on their phones until a customer grabbed something off their cart. As I approached a few more to pass, a woman smiled and came up to me with a clipboard, and I think now, had I been in New York City, would I have paused?

Um, no. Definitely not.

I am the person who drags friends away from the sales people in the mall that try to get you try that new flat iron at their kiosk until you end up buying some sort of hair oil. Yet, I paused as she quickly spoke in French, pushing the clipboard towards me as if to sign a petition of some sort.

“Je…” I didn’t understand her, and held my purse tighter as after that millisecond of pause happened, I took a step or two forward. Keep walking, I needed to keep walking...and yet…

In that moment one of the two older men who were sitting in their chairs next to their carts of postcards and trinkets called out towards me and the woman who was already a few steps behind me, giving up in sort of a huff.

As I passed one of the older men, he ran a hand through his white hair and pointed after her, trying to explain. “Pickpocket,” he said.

Understanding must have shown on my face.

He continued to explain to me in slow French to just keep walking. Those who tried to get one to sign something like that usually would have swiped my purse while my hands were busy.

I nodded a merci and continued on. Thinking back on that moment now though, when I glanced down towards that clipboard that young woman was holding, it had quite a few signatures on it. I wonder how many did not simply keep walking.