Thieves on the Elysees: Parading in Paris with Pickpockets

I have been a New Yorker for most of my adult life however; I have never enjoyed riding the subway in my own city. Such was not the case when I arrived in Paris. I rode the Metro (the subway) daily and even delighted in doing so although always keeping my New Yorker wits about me. Paris may pride itself on a lower crime rate than New York City; however, skillful thieves are alive and well in every metropolitan city and Paris is no exception. I had heard of more than the fair shares of pick pocket stories involving unsuspecting American tourists.

The Champs-Elysees is one of the most well known avenues in the world. Perhaps it is the Parisian equivalent of New York's Fifth Avenue. Any tourist parading in Paris wouldn't miss the opportunity to stroll down the Avenue or in this case, down the Champs.

During one of my many "parades" around the town, I encountered the sweetest older gentleman who smiled at me and began to follow closely behind me. He had the cutest little accent when he spoke, "Are you visiting my city?"

"Oh, yes, and I just love it here."

He stepped closer and placed his hand upon my shoulder as he said, "Enjoy yourself, Madame, there is much to see and do here. Welcome to my city."

Isn't it just like the French to be so welcoming and friendly? I chastised myself for my New Yorker attitude that I had been carrying around with my backpack. My street-smart upbringing had made me wary of strangers and here was this nice, old man offering me his smile and best wishes.

I stepped inside a boutique to take a closer look at a beautiful necklace that was hanging in the storefront. I decided that for once I would splurge for myself and bring home a gorgeous piece of jewelry. I reached inside my backpack to get my wallet.

My wallet was gone! The unsuspecting, friendly older gentleman was, in reality, an irreverent pickpocket and I had been picked!

At the very moment that my realization was causing my blood pressure to blow, I heard the commotion outside the store. Apparently, another French man had witnessed the wallet exchange on the sidewalk and alerted the police officer standing on the corner. The thief (the nice older gentleman) was apprehended and I got my wallet back.

The saddest part of the story was that in the midst of the ordeal, I forgot to go back into the store and purchase the necklace. So, instead of jewelry, I only have a memory of my parade days.