Better to Pick-a-Pocket or Two
Fagin, the antagonist in Charles Dickens' novel "Oliver Twist" taught his merry band of pickpockets:
"Why should we break our backs Stupidly paying tax? Better get some untaxed income Better to pick-a-pocket or two."
Well, up yours, Fagin.
As you can see, I’m mad. Like, really REALLY mad.
Prior to my relocation I had heard about the near-utopian living conditions in Copenhagen, what with it being the capital of the happiest country on the planet and all.
The sign welcoming you at Copenhagen Airport. It should add, "watch your stuff!".
And, aside from the odd crazy person on the metro clucking in my face, or occasional terrorist threat, my first month had lead me to believe that by and large, Copenhagen is a very safe place to live.
However, about 20 minutes ago that image was shattered.
Today, as I do everyday, upon reaching my street I took my headphones out and wrapped them around my phone and shoved them into my jacket pocket so I could dig my apartment keys out of my backpack.
This time, however, something different happened. While fiddling with the zipper of my bag, I felt my phone slide out of my jacket pocket. I immediately looked on the ground, expecting it to be there. It was not. I froze for a second doing a sort of half-assed Macarena, patting down my jacket pockets, then my jeans, then my bag...
Heeeey Macarena - aight!
My phone was no where to be found, which was strange because I know I had just put it in my pocket…
Prior to stopping to get out my keys, I had noticed a well-dressed man and woman walking towards me. Now, this being fashionable Copenhagen, I usually I wouldn’t think anything of it, except this couple got exceptionally close to me while I was stopped with my bag – even though I had moved to the side of the pavement and there was no one else around. I remember at the time being slightly irked that despite my attempt to stay out of the way of foot traffic, these people still felt the need to get super close to me.
That’s when it dawned on me.
Those thieving bastards.
Noticing they were the only people on the sidewalk in my direct vicinity, I gave chase.
“Hey! HEY!!!” I shouted (knowing that “hey” in English and “hej” in Danish both almost sound and mean the same thing).
They didn’t turn around.
“HEY! YOU STOLE MY PHONE!” I shouted louder.
This time people on the street began to stare at me, then at them.
That's when they both stopped and turned to me. They were both wearing sunglasses and were fashionably dressed in nice winter coats and thick scarves, typical Dane-wear for this kind of weather. The man said something along the lines of, “you dropped your phone back there” pointing to the corner where I had stopped with my bag. I didn’t hear much of what he was saying because I was fixated on the woman next to him. Or rather, the familiar looking device she was holding in her hand.
MY phone, still with MY headphones wrapped around it.
I yanked the phone out of the woman’s hand, with neither of them attempting to resist.
Perhaps it was the shock of knowing someone actually had the nerve to steal right out of my own pocket in front of my home. Or perhaps it was the inexplicable relief of knowing that my phone was not gone forever. In either case, I didn’t act on my impulse to rugby tackle them both to the ground and put a knee on each of their throats until the police arrived.
Instead, I just pointed at them and shouted as loud as I could to every passerby:
“BE CAREFUL OF THESE THIEVING SCUM!”
“THEY JUST TRIED TO STEAL MY PHONE!”
“BE CAREFUL OF THESE THIEVING SCUM!”
The couple promptly scurried into the crowd – unsurprisingly in the direction of Strøget, the city’s main shopping street. I’m sure that was their ultimate destination – with the perfect blend of naïve tourists, distracting street performers and crowds into which to blend, I imagine it’s like an all-you-can-steal buffet for pickpockets. I was merely an amuse-bouche before they moved on to their main course.
Strøget, a pickpocket's paradise. Photo courtesy of this website.
So I get home and, after fuming for a while over the violation of having someone attempt to rob me, decided to do a bit of research. Turns out, Copenhagen has a big problem with pickpocketing.
Ok, maybe not “big” like Barcelona-the-pickpocket-capital-of-the-world-big, but still, it’s a lot more prevalent then I was lead to believe. Pickpocket statistics aren’t reliable because the crime often goes unreported. But, if you want to scare yourself, do a Google search of “Copenhagen + pickpockets” like I just did and see a plethora of angry tourists who had cameras, wallets and phones lifted without them even noticing until it was too late.
That is when I also realised that, most of the times when I come home, the small pocket on my backpack is always open; I usually dismiss this as me simply forgetting to close it in the first place. But now, I’m starting to wonder if people are in fact rifling through the pocket while I’m daydreaming away on the metro, only to decide that they do not care for my dried up pens or half-empty cherry flavoured lip balm (the only contents of said pocket) and leave it be. So, from now on I’ll have a little instructional message in my backpack for the next person who decides to try and rob me:
Bring it.
