Pickpocketing

I was at Rome’s central station. They probably marked me from a distance.

I was telling a story to my niece and nephew. A few minutes earlier, my nephew had wandered off to the bathroom without telling anyone, so we were joking about what would happen if he grew up alone in Italy. It was a silly story, but we were laughing hysterically and completely distracted.

We were waiting for the metro. I was holding my niece’s hand. When the train doors opened, we stepped inside. The carriage wasn’t crowded.

Then, all at once, a group of people surged in around us.

Within seconds, they had formed a tight circle around me, leaving me unable to reach a handrail. As the train pulled away, I lost my balance and started lurching from side to side. There were five of them: four teenagers and one adult.

Something immediately felt off.

If you accidentally bump into a stranger on a train, they’ll usually look annoyed and instinctively make room. These people did neither. They seemed perfectly happy to let me keep crashing into them.

A lifetime of growing up in a rough neighborhood kicked in. The moment they started pushing me around, I clamped one hand over my wallet and never let go. My sister sensed something was wrong too and kept watching my pockets.

Looking back, that may already have been too late. Experienced pickpockets often strike during the first collision.

What followed was probably their backup plan. By denying me a handrail, they kept me stumbling into them, creating repeated opportunities to empty my pockets. It was a clever setup. Within seconds, I completely lost my bearings.

At one point, someone somehow removed my sunglasses without me noticing, then tried to put them back on my face. Another distraction. I still never let go of my wallet.

Fortunately, they ignored the phone in my other pocket. My guess is they wanted my wallet because they’d seen me use it to tap my family through the station gates.

Even when I shouted, “I want to get out!”, the circle stayed closed. Eventually I had to duck under one of the girls’ arms to escape. The whole group got off at the next station. As they walked away, they looked disappointed and started arguing among themselves.

I was extremely lucky. A quick search afterward turned up countless stories from people who weren’t.

On another day, I might have lost my wallet. I think I got away with it because this crew was inexperienced and somehow failed to lift my wallet during the initial collision. It also helped that my sister and I grew up in District 4, Saigon. Back then, pickpocketing was a real career path for some of the people we knew. A place like that teaches you to recognize trouble before you can explain it.

My niece, meanwhile, had no idea what was happening. For days afterward, she kept asking me to tell the story again and again. It’s already become part of our family’s lore.

Again, just another real-world story to give you a break from all the AI nonsense.

Happy weekend!