Cell phone number five...another one bites the dust & fun times in public cars

I must have a sign on my back that says "steal my cell phone." My fifth cell phone disappeared last week. It was stolen in a public car by pickpockets, as were two of the others. Another was stolen at knifepoint, along with my nice little camera. One was stolen from my friend about five minutes after I warned her to be very careful. I can't blame her, though. Those guys are pretty skilled.

You might think that I'm not being careful myself. Au contrair. I'm careful to the point of near paranoia! Pickpockets have attempted, unsuccessfully, to rob me many more times than they have done so successfully.

Part of living in a big city here is facing up to the crime rate. I have to take things into consideration when I decide to go someplace. Can I go in that area alone safely? If I take a picture here, will I be mugged for my camera a few minutes later? (Hint: take your indoor pictures with your nice camera, and get a disposable for your wandering around pictures.) I think about what time I can finish my shopping. It must be before dark, or I have to add in the cost of a taxi.

When I want to take a public car (functions like a bus on a route, but with less people), I have to quickly evaluate its safety. Does it have the green or yellow top? If not, it is a "pirate" and could be less safe. Does it look like it has been used for a public car? That is, does it look like it is three miles from the junkyard? Then it is probably safe to ride in--not necessarily mechanically, but probably it is a legitimate car on a route.

Yet I have been robbed in cars that were legit as well--they just go to another route to perpetrate their crimes.
Once I got in the front seat-- I must stop here and explain that the front seats are for three people. The left bucket seat is for the driver, and the right for not one, but two passengers. As I headed into the front seat, I see the other person is a man with a bandage wrapped around his ankle. He kept squirming and adjusting his position, and getting me to change mine, pretending that he was in pain. When it was obvious that no position would suit him, I said, I'll get in the back. The driver pulled over. As I reached for the back door handle, the two ladies inside said the back was "full." Now full, means you've paid four passages. If that was true, the driver would have told me no, it was full. They sped off. I found that I had been relieved of my change purse. Every one in the car was part of the gang. The two women were there to make women feel comfortable entering, and to reach through the space between seats, and steal what they could.

Another time, there was another gang of four, and I was once again in the front seat. I paid my fare upon entering. The other guy kept acting strangely, putting his hand behind a briefcase-like canvas bag, and moving it around, while instructing me to open the window. He was trying to distract me in order to let the others rob me. I clung tightly to my back pack and kept saying, what are you doing? The man said to the driver, "let her out; she's going to be too much trouble." The driver returned my money and dropped me on the curb.

Once I was carrying a load of cash. (I now take a taxi if I have much cash on me.) A man hopped in the car ahead of me, rather than behind me as he should have. So I already knew something was up. Then he proceeded to rummage through his pockets. As we are sitting tightly, pocket to pocket, this is a favorite trick. It feels like he is in his pocket, but then suddenly he is in yours, and it feels the same. I knew immediately what he was up to. I slapped my hand down over my pocket, and glared at him. He asked the driver if the car went someplace it didn't go, then had the driver let him out because he was in the wrong car.

I could go on and on about all the times I had been robbed or someone had attempted to rob me. But there were also the times when I was leaving my umbrella or my keys, or my change purse was falling out of my pocket, and another passenger or a driver helped me out.

The fact is, any big city has its pickpockets. The difference in this one is, perhaps, that they are known to the drivers, and often to the police, but nothing is done about them.