Being (almost) robbed in Paris.
I’m going to tell you what happened to me on Saturday so that you too are prepared if you ever find yourself in a similar situation…
I needed to buy plant pots for the Boyfriend’s (soon to be our) place. He doesn’t know, but I figure if I just do it, he’s hardly going to complain when he gets back and see how I’ve decorated his windows with pretty flowers and ivy (is he?).
|This is the plan, thanks jojo-bean|
I go to the bank to take out some money. I’m tapping in my code, careful that no-one is peering over my shoulder. We’re in the fourteenth arrondissement. It’s a quiet and bourgeois area. The only tourists who come to Alésia are the ones who’ve got lost looking for the catacomb museum.
Suddenly, a little arm shoots in front of the screen and starts waving around in my face.
BUT thanks to my unhealthy addiction to documentaries on crime in France, I knew exactly what was going on…
But NO. I was ready for this little sh*t the minute his hand waved in front of my face. Without even looking behind me, I mustered all my strength and thrust my elbow backwards with the force of a furious Englishwoman who doesn’t have 300 euros to lose. BOSH. Right in his face.
I hadn’t realised he was quite so small (I was imagining a 17 year old, so my elbow punch was aimed at stomach height). But after snatching my 20 euros and card safely from the machine and turning around to see my aggressors, I saw that I had just given a hefty coup de coude to a ten-year-old.
He wasn’t knocked out. Nor was he bleeding, or even bruised-looking. He was just sort of rubbing his ear and looking really pissed off that I’d not played the game and let him take my money. My Body Pump classes clearly haven’t paid off….I can’t even beat up a child.
He and his sister took a couple of steps backward then turned and scarpered. I was very lucky.
Oh, and hitting children isn’t funny.