by Tom Kando
My wife and I were in Rome recently. A couple of thieves tried to steal my briefcase, but thanks to my heroic behavior they failed. The Good is that an Italian bystander helped me (maybe); the Bad was the mugging, and the Ugly was that I had to dive into a garbage bin to retrieve my briefcase.
We arrived in Rome in the middle of a heat wave in late afternoon, by train from Florence. A taxi dropped us off in front of the Paba Hotel on the Via Cavour. This is a nice little place which we have frequented many times over the years. The Via Cavour is a very busy major thoroughfare. The hotel is a block from the Forum, which we can see from our window.
So here we are messing around on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, entering our bags through the front door. For a fraction of a minute, while I shove our two large suitcases inside, my briefcase sits on the sidewalk, a foot behind me. Before I have a chance to prevent this from happening, two men come running by and one of them grabs the briefcase. It contains my passport, cash, air tickets, iPhone, in sum everything that’s essential.
Throughout my life, I have rarely been a hero. Fighting with men (especially strong ones) scares me. But this time, I promptly give chase, even though the two punks are bigger and way younger than I am. I suppose my instincts worked well this time. I realized that with the briefcase gone, I would spend my Roman holiday at the US embassy trying to get back into the States, I would lose thousands of dollars worth of tickets, electronic gear, cash. Our trip would be ruined. So I give chase, an old man running after two young thieves.
And you know what? It worked! Suddenly, the guy who is running with my briefcase tosses it into one of those large public garbage bins parked along with cars by the sidewalk!
Now, I didn’t see him do that myself, mind you. Here is what happened: An Italian bystander comes up to me and says something to the effect that he saw the thieves discard the briefcase “somewhere.”
“Where?” I scream. “Dove รจ la briefcase?”
“Qui, da qualche parte...,” the man replies, “I see him throw here somewhere...”
Frantically, I lie down on the pavement of the incredibly busy Via Cavour, looking under every parked car. I even yank open the door of a cab driving by, full of people, thinking that they might be the thieves. The driver is terrified, thinking that I am the mugger.
It occurs to me to look inside the large garbage bins on the side of the street. Some have locked lids, but some are open. The third one I try - bingo! There I see my briefcase lying at the bottom, in the midst of potato peals and other garbage.
I try to climb into the garbage bin, but I can’t. Instead, I hurt myself on the sharp edge. The Italian “good Samaritan” is still near me, so I ask him for help. Together, holding hands, we fish my briefcase out.
I am elated. No ruined vacation after all! I only need to wash off the potato and egg plant peals from my briefcase. In my euphoria, I shove 20 Euros into the Italian’s hands.
So then, my wife and I settle into our room and go out for pizza and Chianti, recovering from the traumatic adventure. We agree that giving the Italian bystander a 20 Euro reward was meager...but then, a thought crops up: “What if he was an accomplice, and not a good Samaritan?” We’ll never know...
But in the end, the event was not cost free: Within hours, I begin to hurt, and it turns out that I fractured a rib while trying to climb into the garbage dump. During our week in Rome, the pain is manageable thanks to Ibuprofen. We had a wonderful time. Especially gratifying was the realization that - at least this time - crime did not pay.
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