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. A real life short story It happened on the third day of our stay in Prague, after Inge and I had moved from Miss-Sofie's in Nove Mesto to a hotel near the castle in Hradcany, and ironically, just after we received a warning.
“Yes,” we answered, still excited about the room we had, decorated in a mix of art deco and rose romantic, with a view to the castle, there in this hotel named "Trinidad", of all places. “Just yesterday one of our guests went to an exchange place, and they had the right rate on the bill, but the sum was wrong. He only noticed the mistake later, and now we contacted the police.” “And take care in the metro, it's one of the spots pocket thieves roam.” “Yes,” we repeated, and nodded, feeling like children of an over-concerned father. As if we needed to be told, we said on the way out. After all, we weren't stupid. We both had travelled as far as India and Nepal. Plus it was our third day in Prague. Taking the metro was child's play. We thought. And walked across the street, towards the Malostranska station, then down the stairs. The A-line was just arriving. We didn't even have to wait. The doors opened, then closed behind us. Two stops, then we would be reaching Mustek, and with it, the city centre, where the Kinsky Palais was located.
It was early afternoon, and the metro was crowded, as usual. Yet something was different. Normally, people made space for the ones who entered at a station. This time, no one made a move. So we stood there, crammed in between the door and the other passengers. It's just for two stations, I thought. Still I didn't feel comfortable. I looked at the guy next to me, and saw that he had placed his right hand on top of his bag. Now, that's almost neurotic, I thought. And looked at Inge. To my surprise, she looked angry, and checked her bag, then put her hand on top of it, too. So I did the same. At the next stop, some people stepped out of the cabin, and finally there was more space. “What happened?” I asked. “Someone wanted to steel my purse,” Inge said, checking her belongings once again. “Damn!” “Yes, damn,” she said. “I felt that something was wrong, there was this guy standing too close to me. He had a big black bag over his shoulder, placed in a way that it was in front of my handbag, I expected him to take a step back after we entered, but he just didn't make a move. So I turned, and when I looked at my bag, the zipper of my handbag was open. But nothing is missing.” "And your camera? With all the photos you took?" "It's still there", she said, and pulled the camera out of the handbag, as if to make sure that it really was there. "On top of my camera and purse, there was the suncap, neatly folded to make it fit the bag," she explained. "That probably helped to save all other things."
We tried to figure out what happened, and as far as we understood, this is how the thieves work: The metro has glass doors, so when you are inside, you can see who is approaching the door. And of course, we looked like tourists. Plus Inge had a map in one hand, a water bottle in the ohter hand, and a neat small travel handbag over her shoulder, just the size for a camera and a purse. So the thieves picked her as next victim. One of them placed himself in a way that he stood right next to her, with the black bag next to her hand bag, and the others blocked the way, so that after entering, we were fixed in the spot. The black bag has two functions: it blocks the sight to the handbag, and it probably has a hole in the backside, so that it provides access to the victim's bag. This way, the thief can reach through it, steal the purse, place it in his own bag, and then disappear. The guy next to me probably realized what was happening, and secured his belongings. “And this all, just after we were warned of thieves,” I said. “So that's the learning for the future: listen to advice. And: don't handicap yourself by carrying stuff in both hands while in a crowd", she summed it up. Then she thought for a moment, and added a third line: "And listen to your intuition. From the moment we entered this metro cabin, I felt uncomfortable there.” We stepped out of the metro with mixed emotions: still shocked from what had happened, and at the same time relieved that all our belongings were still there. On the way to the museum, we told each other theft stories we heard from others: “Last year, my neighbours went to Dresden for an opera weekend", she said. "They arrived at the hotel with their car, but the room wasn't ready. Just take a walk, and return in an hour, then you can check in, they were told. So they went, leaving the luggage in the car. An hour later, they returned. And looked for the car. It was gone. And with it, all the luggage. All they still had was a handbag.” I tried to imagine the situation. Looking for the car, and having to realize that all is gone. Car. Clothes. Shoes. Jackets. Everything. “Compared to that, you rather lose your purse,” I said. “If you are offered that choice, yes,” she answered, in a sudden zen-like wave of humour. ~~~ more pickpockt stories! back to: the Prague page |
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