A pickpocket steals from a back pocket, aka the sucker pocket.
Over-confidence is the enemy of travelers in unfamiliar lands. The know-it-all risks loss and embarrassment. Henry started his story with the wistful remark we’ve heard countless times:
“I didn’t think it could happen to me,” he said, shaking his head. “I never even sensed the other guy was near me.”
Henry and Kathy were world travelers. We met them in the third month of their current foreign travel adventure. Only in their forties, they were quite young compared to others with the time and resources for extended travel. Both were physically fit and mentally sharp. To Kathy’s alert, quiet reserve, Henry radiated self-assurance and arrogance.
On this day, as usual, Kathy carried their cash in the deep front pocket of her tight shorts. Henry carried nothing but the plastic boarding card issued to him by his cruise ship.
Another pickpocket's back-pocket technique.
The couple was standing on a street corner near the souk in Casablanca when a large local man approached. Glancing at Henry’s Blue Jays cap, the interloper leaned into Henry, lightly knocking his shoulder.
“You from Canada?” he slurred, in a drunken act. Henry, always on his toes, second guessed the ulterior motive.
“Keep your hands off me, pal,” he said threateningly.
The stranger backed away and glanced across the street. Kathy followed his look and watched as a second man approached them. He was the big guy’s partner.
“Sorry, I have no use for this,” the partner said, and held out Henry’s boarding card. The couple had never even noticed him near them; yet somehow, he had been.
I like this story for its considerate thief. Most, with hopes of snagging a credit card quashed, would drop the worthless plastic in a trash bin, or more likely on the ground. The notion of a quixotic thief appeals to my wispy romantic being. Luciano, that ever-present menace on Naples’ trams, told us that, since he doesn’t use the credit cards he steals, he drops them into a mail box so they can be returned to their owners.
Had Henry Smartypants read the U.S. State Department’s report on Morocco, he would have known that “criminals have targeted tourists for robberies, assaults, muggings, thefts, purse snatching, pickpocketing, and scams of all types,” and that “most of the petty crime occurs in the medina/market areas….” Perhaps he would have thwarted the thief who snuck up behind him; his antennas would certainly have been up.
If misfortune befalls the unwary and swindlers seek the weak, enlighten yourself and raise your awareness.
Cargo pockets are easy to steal from. Buttons or Velcro take the thief an extra second or two.
Sandy and Frances thought little of the gaggle of girls who flopped onto the bench they were resting on. There were more girls than could fit on the bench: half a dozen or more. They were pretty, 15-16-year-olds and with them was an adult woman. Their teacher, perhaps, Frances thought.
The girls cozied up to Sandy, making room for one more to squeeze onto the bench. They wiggled and squirmed, like impatient students in class, while the woman spoke to them. Sandy and Frances didn’t understand the language they spoke.
The couple didn’t notice that all the other benches were empty. They didn’t wonder why this gang, or “class,” had to crowd onto their bench. They were not the least suspicious of the girls.
“Why don’t we move so they can all fit,” Sandy said after a couple of minutes. He and Frances settled on the next bench.
“We needn’t have bothered,” he said, watching as the group immediately left the bench and the area.
Londoners Sandy and Frances had just flown into Barcelona to take a cruise. They were too early to board, but it was a gorgeous, sunny afternoon and they didn’t mind waiting the ten minutes before the gangway opened.
Although this cargo pocket has buttons, a hand can slip in between them. And did.
Soon they were in their stateroom, unpacking. Sandy opened a drawer to put away his wallet and, of course, you know: his pocket was empty. He’d had it in the cargo pocket of his pants, “secured” with two buttons. He told us how he went cold all over. How he checked and rechecked his pocket, not believing his wallet was really gone. But from the first instant, he knew exactly what had happened.
Are you groaning? Not another Barcelona story, please! I’m afraid so.
Sandy told us over and over how stupid he felt for letting it happen. There was a lot of money in the wallet, but his insurance would replace it. He just felt like an idiot. Although I’ve never heard of this particular technique, I assured him that this gang was well-practiced in the art of portraying innocence. They knew exactly how to behave, how to avoid rousing suspicion.
The thief hadn’t even unbuttoned the pocket. She didn’t need to. The gap between the two buttons was large enough for a slim hand and a wallet.
They got thousands of British pounds. I don’t think they’ll work for a while. We’re all safe from this gang, at least for the next week or two.
As a very frequent flyer, I can understand that 12,000+ laptops are lost each week in U.S. airports. What’s shocking is that, according to a study, only 33% of laptops that make it to lost-and-found are reclaimed. My first thought is: insurance fraud. Lose it, claim it, get a new machine.
The point of the study, though, is really data loss, theft, and abuse. Who cares about the hardware? Wouldn’t it be fascinating to know how many of those never-claimed laptops sitting in lost-and-found actually contain sensitive data? And when was the machine last logged into? After the loss?
Having lost a few precious things myself (a special scarf, an autographed book), I know how impossible it is to contact airport lost-and-found, and the runaround you get if you luck out and reach a human. “You have to contact the airline,” “just file a report online,” “the airline controls those gates,” etc. Hopeless.
And I hate to say it but, I’m convinced that airplane cleaners reward their thankless jobs by the old “finders keepers” law. How else to explain a book left between the window seat and the wall, gone without a trace five minutes after I disembarked? Losers weepers.
Who's alert after suffering the human maze?
I just re-read the study, Ponemon Institute’s Airport Insecurity: The Case of Missing & Lost Laptops.
I had first read it back in July when its stats were thoroughly discussed on Schneier’s site. One of my own comments there is “no departments try to return property. Look at all the staffing cuts. Who’s the first to go? An individual might try to return something, but not a department. Even if you know you left something on a plane, even if you report it a minute after you get off, you can kiss it goodbye.”
Most laptops are lost at the security checkpoint—no surprise. People think the area is full of “security” personnel, and that makes their stuff secure. Many times, I pick up my own computer, then Bob’s. No one notices or cares that I picked up two machines. No one questions me whether I have two in my arms at once, or pack up mine and walk off with another.
While the report’s stats are interesting, I think the “Recommendations and Conclusions” are unrealistic. They suggest you allow enough time, as if you haven’t just run between terminals as fast as you can to make your “airline legal” but still-tight connection. They suggest you carry less; hey, we carry what we need, and what we don’t trust the airlines (or TSA) with in checked bags. They suggest you think ahead and have a mental strategy at security. That works—as long as you aren’t in a sleep-deprived fog from flying 14 or more cramped hours and now you don’t know if it’s morning or night. And as long as everything at the checkpoint goes smoothly, which is never certain. Someone cuts in front of you and delays you from getting to the other side, where your stuff sits vulnerable. A bossy TSA agent disrupts your strategy because he wants it done his way. TSA needs to rescan half your stuff and your items are spread out all over.
I have long had a strategy. I lay down my things—always the same things—in a strict order. This allows me to pick them up on the other side and reassemble everything quickly and logically. Every once in a while, that bossy TSA employee will rearrange my things, or hold back some of them in order to re-run someone else’s. This tampers with the otherwise reliability of my strategy.
I like two of the study’s recommendations. One is obvious, to label your laptop so you can be easily contacted. The other mildly recommends that airports make it easier for passengers to report losses. That would really help. Fat chance.
Ramblas' living statues apply their make-up on-site.
Adrian has been a living statue on Barcelona’s Ramblas for two years. He was a chef in Romania before, and part owner of a small hotel. But economic opportunities are greater for a statue; or they were, before major changes were instituted about two months ago.
No one needs a permit to be a statue on La Rambla, but there are rules and regulations. The statue must design and make an original costume. And the statue must be still, moving only to reward contributors to the hat.
Electric Man used to use pre-existing crowds, collecting coins from diners in Ramblas cafes.
Performance artists are no longer allowed on La Rambla, because they often draw large crowds of spectators. The crowds attract pickpockets. Pickpockets can easily steal from a stationary, distracted victim who expects others to crowd in behind him.
This is a good theory, in general. In practice, many a performer fails to draw a crowd, and quite a number of statues have learned to do so. But there may be something to the new initiative.
It’s not a fair comparison, but I’ll compare anyway. In three days of walking La Rambla last week, Bob and I saw very few “suspects;” i.e., characters we deem worth watching due to suspicious behavior. Quite unlike our previous observations five months ago. See Barcelona Street Crime Today and the articles linked within it. Granted, it was pouring rain two of those days last week. The few brave souls out in the weather wore raincoats or jackets that made pocket access difficult. Anyway, the pickpockets stayed home. Not that rain always stops them! Our third day of tramping the tourist trail was mostly morning hours. This too, is not prime time for thieves.
Rain doesn't always stop the thieves. There were five, though you can only see two here.
Even including a few afternoon hours, the avenida was quiet, perp-wise. Sure, the three-shell pea gamers were out, and we saw one pea crew under arrest, waiting for transport. But the population of thieves has moved on. Not far, I’m sure, but off the main drag.
And while the thieves are fewer on La Rambla, the living statues have proliferated. In some prime areas, near mcDonald’s, for example, and at the intersection of Portafarissa, barely six feet separate the statues from one another, six or seven of them in a row.
Adrian on a smoke break.
While some stand dejected, others have mastered a certain glint in the eye, a beckoning dare: “want to see what I do? Drop in a coin!” The plastic bottle man rarely stands still. The green fairy’s fingers are constantly coaxing passers-by nearer. The black horned creature has enormous curved wings, which he swivels to hide his face from photographers until he gets a coin. The toilet man makes faces. I’m pretty sure that the Michael Jackson statue is the same guy who used to do impressions at the bottom of La Rambla. He used to get huge crowds, and probably pretty good money. Now he stands frozen in costume, bucket begging, but not terribly enticing. His huge talent is wasted here. People walk on by.
This creature doesn’t always wait for a coin. It moves, illicitly, startling passers-by in order to attract viewers.
One creature, a strange head resting low in a pile of blue satin, manages to get huge audiences. Like a jack-in-the-box, the head pops out of the fabric with a a growl and a shout, its single hand gesticulating wildly. The crowd screams and backs up, leaving a wide berth around the unpredictable danger. Strange, since it’s fairly obvious that the performance artist is crunched up in a box, non-ambulatory. Anyway, the spectators’ noisy appreciation attracts others to the circle, and the crowd grows.
A portion of the large crowd around a performance artist pretending to be a statue.
The difference between the large crowd surrounding the head-in-the-box, and the crowd that surrounded the Michael Jackson impersonator, is an important one to the pickpocket. The head-in-the-box has a limited repertoire, and therefor cannot hold a crowd. Michael Jacksonesque performed many songs, holding his audience and giving the pickpockets plenty of time to select a mark and do their dirty work.
People walk right past Michael Jacksonesque, who was previously compelling with music and motion.
Adrian, who stands statue-still then poses for pictures for whatever coin he’s thrown, is in one of those concentrated rows of statues. Beside him is a magician, from Romania, like Adrian. The magician, wearing an ordinary black suit and white shirt, has a bit of a crowd around him. He’s performing with a trick rope, a black-covered book under one arm. He appears nervous, looking up and down the street. When he suspects police are near—perhaps he’s signaled by someone—he steps onto a small, low platform, flips open his book, and stares at it. Poof: a statue.
Adrian’s disgusted by the magician’s cheating way. He empties the small coins from his money-box as he complains about his neighbor. He says the tricks are lousy, just purchased things, performed without soul. Yet the magician gets crowds and Adrian doesn’t. Adrian tips his box and I see that a few one- and two-euro coins are glued to the bottom.
No more Flamenco on La Rambla.
Adrian claims to get eight to 15 euros in his best hours. The magician gets more, he admits, and that makes Adrian mad. Still, he works the hours he wants to work, takes off when it suits him, and is able to send money home to his wife and two daughters.
It’s easy to see that the most interactive statues, those with the best costumes, those whose photos are most sought, make more money than the passive ones. Adrian said the best make 40 to 50 euros in a good hour.
The clowns make even more: 50 to 60 euros per performance for the best one, according to Adrian. Of course they no longer work on La Rambla either.
The city seems to be on to something. Or maybe it’s just a temporary lull. Time will tell. Bob and I will report later.
Our typical haul: four aluminum Halliburtons to check, a roll-on each, a shoulder bag each.
For very frequent travelers, the right luggage is vital. Bob and I have used aluminum Zero Halliburton luggage forever. It’s heavy and expensive. It gets dented and full of stickers. Every few trips, a bag loses a handle or a wheel, and we keep on repairing them. We can’t even take advantage of their good locks anymore. Instead, we wrap strong tape around the seams to thwart thieves.
In iffy hotels we use one of these as a safe for small valuables, sometimes even laptops. The theory is that a camera, passport, maybe even a laptop can “get legs.” A large, heavy suitcase is less likely to go missing.
Choosing the right luggage
Bob uses a black aluminum Halliburton roll-aboard. It’s strong, padded, and lockable, so he’s not worried when his carry-on must be put in a plane’s cargo hold, no matter what’s in the bag. You can see it on the top of the left stack in the photo. This clamshell-type roll-on does not suit me at all. I like lots of zipper compartments, so I can easily grab my computer power cord, a book, or a document from a file folder. I also like a roll-on big enough to neatly carry an outfit or two. These are usually called one-suiters. I always have one suit and one stage dress in the roll-on. I’ve been without my checked luggage one time too many.
Carry-on system by Mandarina Duck.
My roll-on has a matching shoulder bag which stacks easily and securely. And of course it has a shoulder strap for the millions of stairs that require hauling instead of rolling. The shoulder strap attaches with a ridged plastic tab. This was my biggest concern when I bought this combo three-plus years ago. What if it comes loose? My laptop is in the shoulder bag, my iPod, passport, a little camera, and all my most important things. Many a time I have boarded rickety boats with this bag on my shoulder. But I’ve come to trust it.
The plastic tab broke on the way to Oman recently. The day I got home I photographed the strap and sent it to the company. In a week, I had a new strap, overnighted from Italy, no charge. So I think I should mention that my carry-on luggage is made by the Italian company, Mandarina Duck.
I started talking about Consular Information Sheets here.
Odd but possibly vital information can be found in the Consular Information Sheets regularly posted by the U.S. Department of State [D.O.S.]. For example:
“It is illegal to bring into Japan some over-the-counter medicines commonly used in the United States, including inhalers and some allergy and sinus medications. Japanese customs officials have detained travelers carrying prohibited items, sometimes for several weeks. Some U.S. prescription medications cannot be imported into Japan, even when accompanied by a customs declaration and a copy of the prescription.”
Staggering advice! But the report doesn’t stop there. It includes links to English-language Japanese sites with prescription look-ups, because “Japanese customs officials do not make on-the-spot …˜humanitarian’ exceptions.”
Lurking danger.
In a recent Peru information sheet,
“Travelers are advised to seek advice from local residents before swimming in jungle lakes or rivers, where alligators or other dangerous creatures may live. All adventure travelers should leave detailed written plans and a timetable with a friend and with local authorities in the region, and they should carry waterproof identification and emergency contact information. … Peruvian customs regulations require that many electronic items or items for commercial use be declared upon entering the country. Failure to make a full and accurate declaration can lead to arrest and incarceration.”
Better mention your laptop or digital camera.
If you “get sand in your shoes,” that is, fall in love with island life on your Bahamian vacation, you’ll be glad to have read that
“U.S. citizens should exercise caution when considering time-share investments and be aware of the aggressive tactics used by some time-share sales representatives. Bahamian law allows time-share purchasers five days to cancel the contract for full reimbursement. Disputes that arise after that period can be very time-consuming and expensive to resolve through the local legal system.”
Going to see the pyramids of Giza and Cairo’s exotic Khan el Khalili bazaar? The U.S. D.O.S. tells us that
“Egypt is one of the world’s leaders in fatal auto accidents. Traffic regulations are routinely ignored. If available, seatbelts should be worn at all times. … Sidewalks and pedestrian crossings are non-existent in many areas, and drivers do not yield the right-of-way to pedestrians.”
Certain danger.
Knowing this will certainly alter your behavior whether driving, taxiing, or walking in Egypt.
The U.S. Department of State isn’t in the scare business. Each of its reports is rich with phone numbers and links to official websites to help travelers get the information they need. Instruction is included on how to deal with problems and emergencies while abroad, including after-hour phone numbers. The State Department’s information is invaluable, available via phone, fax, pamphlet, and internet; and free.
U.S. Department of State
Bureau of Consular Affairs
Washington, DC 20520
For recorded travel information, call 202-647-5225
For information by fax, call 202-647-3000 from your fax machine www.travel.state.gov
Excerpt from Travel Advisory: How to Avoid Thefts, Cons, and Street Scams Chapter Two (part-c): Research Before You Go
In a souk swirling with activity, we found a corner suitable for photos. This man suddenly danced in front of our camera, then danced away.
There was plenty of clowning around in Muscat last week. In the souk, Bob put a camera on a tripod and walked away from it. We wouldn’t do that in most of the places we visit, including other countries under strict Sharia law. But this Omani souk, crowded with locals, had a comfortable, family atmosphere.
Many women in Oman are completely covered, even their eyes.
Bob held a remote and snapped a few test shots. Without warning, this happy man danced into our shot. These two women also stepped in front of the shutter. A large number of women were completely covered, not even eye slits in their black face veils. Some wore sunglasses on top of full face veils.
I understand that Muslim women must cover themselves, but in 110 degree heat, their multiple layers must be torture. Bob was drenched in a loose, light-as-air shirt. I was hot in my two skimpy layers.
Some Omani tassels are in a contrasting color. I wanted to sniff one, but that would be too unseemly.
The local women wore long pants and long sleeves under their abayas and veils, and some wore scarves, too. Omani women wear very long abayas, “taller than themselves,” a custom which dates back to their Bedouin days, when even a woman’s footprints in the sand should not be seen. The long gown gracefully erased them. Omani men wear a tassel at the neck of their dishdasha, which is drenched in scent to enhance male-to-male hugs.
Bob Arno looks up to something as he pretends to relax with men in a souk.
Bob plopped down among a group of men who happily gave permission to be photographed, despite their dubious expressions here. Turns out they were right to doubt the intentions of the tall skinny Western man with unseemly bare legs.
It wasn’t long before Bob had the watch of one of the men. After a suitable moment of laughter from the others, Bob returned the watch and was admonished with a smile.
Bob Arno practices thievery in the souk. He steals a watch in a split second.
I’m happy to report that Bob left town with both hands intact.
At the Muscat airport, we had to sit in the lobby an hour, waiting for check-in to begin. We found chairs in a “family section,” which was filled mostly with women (about 30) and small children, and a few couples. About half the women were fully covered; meaning, not even eyes showing. The rest were bare-faced or only eyes showing, plus one Indian in a sari, and one Muslim nanny in an ordinary headscarf. I watched the little children run around, ages 2 to 6, and wondered how they identified their mothers. The women had no peripheral vision; I wondered if they can even see to step off a curb.
Bob was gently scolded for his theft. It could have been much worse.
High-end shops are popular in the Arab world. Women buy the latest Prada and Versace outfits, then cover them with abayas. At social gatherings, the women gather in a private room and remove their abayas.
Out cold. Five small boys asleep on the floor of the Dubai airport. An older boy sits off to the right. A girl cuddles against her sleeping mother, in black. Somewhere, there must be an infant, as a baby bottle is standing behind the mother. Eventually the father arrived and squatted over his brood.
Example of a journey that did not go smoothly.
1. Taxi was late picking us up at home.
2. Taxi reeked of cigarette.
3. Taxi broke down, but limped into the airport. (Driver had to be picked up from the airport.)
4. Virgin Atlantic was unable to check us in. (Travel agent did something wrong in ticketing.)
5. Travel agent couldn’t be reached for about an hour. Almost too late, but not quite.
6. Due to ticketing anomalies, our luggage could only be tagged and checked through to London, forcing us to pick them up and re-check them there.
7. All four of our suitcases were marked for “random” searching.
8. The security tape we put on our suitcases was removed by TSA, making the contents vulnerable for the rest of the journey.
9. Power outlet at Las Vegas airport was dead but I didn’t notice and completely drained my computer battery.
10. Had to go through immigration and customs in London in order to re-check the bags.
11. Emirates Airlines at Gatwick could only tag bags as far as Muscat.
12. No lounge access at Gatwick. (Emirates Air no longer allows Star Alliance Gold members.)
13. Exit row seats promised on Emirates are not exit row. Plus, someone else is assigned to the same seats we are. (Fixed: exit row seats had been assigned properly, but boarding passes were printed incorrectly.)
14. Couldn’t check email in Dubai, computer battery dead. (Could have charged computer on the London-to-Dubai flight, but I was too tired to deal with it.)
15. Same problem with seats Dubai-to-Muscat. (Eventually resolved.)
16. Had to buy visas in Muscat just to collect and re-check luggage to Salalah (Oman).
17. Shoulder strap of my heavy carry-on bag broke. Must hand-hold from now on.
18. Driver in Salalah had too small a car for us plus luggage. Called for another car. Waited half an hour.
19. At maritime immigration office, officer could not find Oman visas in passports. Waited an hour while he and four others flipped through our many passport pages. (Eventually resolved.)
20. Driver’s car got flat tire. Had to wait for another car and transfer everything.
After 37 hours, we and all our luggage arrived safely. Not too bad, really; just exhausting.
We met Lionel, an American, while traveling in Dubai.
To a pair of pickpockets in London, Lionel Skidmore looked like an easy target. The thieves mounted a bus, then immediately turned and got off, pushing past Lionel, who was just getting on. Checking and noticing that his wallet was gone, Lionel ran after the perps and demanded the return of his wallet. One thief took off. The other pointed to the ground, where the wallet had been dropped. Nothing was missing from it.
The novel part of this story, to me, is that Lionel’s wallet was deep in his pocket, attached to a chain. Granted, the metal ring attachment was a weak one, according to Lionel, but the pickpockets didn’t know that when they decided to take the wallet.
Many people believe that rubber banding a wallet, as Lionel shows, prohibits pickpockets. Pickpockets tell us otherwise.
This reminds me that there are no rules in pickpocketing; or rather, that there are, but they’re all bustable. For example, how many of you have heard that wrapping a rubber band around your wallet makes it harder to steal? Hands up. Right, I thought so. No, the thieves tell us—a rubber band makes their job easier. It gives them something to grip, and it keeps the wallet closed, preventing corners from catching in the extraction.
It’s easy to think that a wallet on a chain is safe (no comment on the fashion statement it makes). You’d think that pickpockets would move on to an unchained wallet—the vast majority of them. Turns out that the chain makes a handy little extraction tool. And according to Lionel, a long-time chain-user, most chains are cheap, Chinese-made metal with weak attachment rings.
There's always a weakest link. In this case, Lionel's hefty new ring attachment is threaded through a flimsy wisp of dried leather.
Lionel showed us his new, heavy-weight chain-attachment-ring. Looks strong! But it’s threaded through a thin layer of worn, flimsy leather at the corner of his wallet. Easily the weakest link in a weak system. A useless grommet, freed from the loose leather, slides around the ring. Lionel feels his chained wallet is secure. His (false) sense of security allows him to travel the world with confidence.
It’s rare, nowadays, to find an airport that checks bag tags. Our policy is to get to the baggage claim area immediately. We don’t allow our suitcases to ride the carousel unattended, where they might “get legs.” In Las Vegas, a man was recently arrested for serial luggage theft. He stole only black bags, simply lifting them off the conveyor belt and walking out as if they were his. When challenged by a rightful owner, he’d apologize and say the bag looked just like his own. This unsophisticated system worked well for quite some time, until he walked off with a bag that belonged to an FBI agent. When the thief was arrested, his apartment was found to contain racks and racks of sorted clothes: men’s, women’s, and children’s. He’d been selling it to second-hand stores in $300 lots, the maximum cash-in-advance the stores would give him.
To prevent your luggage going intentionally or accidentally missing thanks to someone who thought “it looked just like mine,” decorate your bag with something that won’t fall off. I have green tennis racket wrap around the handle of my generic black roll-aboard. Who could mistake it for theirs?
Bambi and Bob Arno with luggage. No carousel here!
And to explain the tape on our luggage, I also wrote this:
Now I’m going to reveal the raggedy edge of my latent obsessive-compulsive propensity. I actually run a strip of tape—something similar to duct tape—around the seam of my suitcase. Yes, I really do. I began doing it in order to keep condensation and rain from leaking in and staining my clothes, which had happened more than once on longhaul flights. But I soon realized the security value of the tape. Although it takes only a moment to stick on and I use the same strip over and over, it adheres strongly to the aluminum. It’s very much a deterrent to tampering and, for better or worse, makes the bag appear quite shabby. Look: I travel hundreds of thousands of miles every year. Some things I just know.
