How My Ipod was Stolen
Almost two years. That’s how long I went living in Shanghai without ever being pickpocketed. Don’t get me wrong, I had some close calls.
Most memorably, last Thanksgiving I was strutting down the street carrying an apple pie in each hand, listening to some strut music (obviously), when I felt a hand reach in to the coat pocket that held my ipod. In a moment of desperation, reflexes that have never been useful to me in any sports environment suddenly sprang into action. As my hands were occupied by two apple pies, I pinned the culprit’s hand in my pocket with my elbow and spun around, only to find a kid who couldn’t have been older than seven or eight. Stupidly, I just yelled, “NO!” and he ran away. Crisis averted.
After that, I was careful. I always kept my hands in my pocket when I was listening to my ipod or put it in a zippered pocket in my purse. And then one day, I was biking home from work with it in my pocket. Surely it would be safe; how could anyone pickpocket me while I was speeding by on a bike? I underestimated the skills of the determined Shanghai pickpocket. Sure enough, halfway through my ride I realized that I wasn’t hearing music anymore. I followed the trail of my headphones, which were still in my ears, down to my pocket and it was empty.
To the nimble-fingered pickpocket who managed to steal my ipod while I was riding a bicycle: I salute you. I can’t deny that you have some impressive skills. I have no doubt that you’re enjoying my tasteful collection of Disney songs and NPR podcasts. But, I’m sorry to inform you, you won’t be stealing from me again. I’ve got a new ipod, and it CLIPS on to things, things like bra straps under shirts shielded by jackets. Our brief encounter has left a lasting impression, and I sure don’t intend on repeating it again.
