Strangers- WHO NEEDS EM.

I left Morocco with lots of things, despite my manic tendency to purge whenever I move. Cute sandals and memorable anecdotes about my bowels definitely made it on the plane home, but so did another, small thing: an all-consuming fear that approaching strangers want to burgle me.

I guess it didn't help when I actually WAS robbed a few months ago, but that's beside the point.

A few weeks ago, I was on the metro platform waiting for my train when a young guy sidled up to me and said, a little too loudly, "so when do ya think the train's coming, EH?"

I was confused. I mean, there's a sign! And it says when trains come! Obviously, this dude wanted my wallet.

Clutching my purse to my chest, I stabbed my index finger at the sign and said something like "I believe it arrives in one minute, SIR." Then I turned and faced the tracks, still hugging my possessions for dear life.

"Oh, ha," the thief said. "I'm new here, I guess I missed the sign. Are you new here?"

"NO." (ha! This chump won't pull some sort of tourist-trap pickpocket trick on THIS girl.)

"Oh. Okay."

By now the train was pulling up, and I sprinted away from the criminal and into a car a bit further down the platform. Another day, another thief defeated.

...it was only after the train started moving again and I released the vice-like grip on my bag (I've been working out) that I realized he was probably just hitting on me.