Before I went to Rome for study abroad, dozens of people warned me about pickpockets. I took their warnings seriously, but I never thought it would actually happen to me. That’s why it was the shock of a lifetime when I got pickpocketed on my way home from school one day. I was on a super crowded tram car – the kind of crowded where you’re physically unable to move – with my backpack on. When I wasn’t paying attention, the man behind me unzipped my backpack, pulled out my purse and was nowhere to be found once I got off and realized what had happened. In the purse was my credit card, passport, apartment keys and about 60 euro.
I felt a rush of different emotions. I was angry at the man who took my things for his inhumanity. I was angry at myself for being careless; for not locking up my backpack or holding it in front of me. I was angry at Rome. I was also really shaken up. I knew it wasn’t personal, but that didn’t make it better. To the pickpocket, I wasn’t a person, but just an easy target. The worst part was the feeling of powerlessness. My belongings were taken and there was absolutely nothing I could do. I had no way of getting my things back or tracking the man down. I didn’t even see his face. The fact that he got away so easily tormented me. It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t even talk to him or make him understand what he had done, because he was just gone.
In the beginning I was distraught; I panicked; I cried. But crying only got me so far. Luckily, my friends were amazing. They comforted me, helped me cancel my credit card, emailed our program directors, and even bought me comfort food. (Chocolate truly cures all). Beyond that, my biggest concern was getting a new passport, since I was traveling out of Italy 3 days later. Of course the day I got pickpocketed was the one day I actually had my passport on me, because I needed it at school. I was super stressed that I wouldn’t be able to get a new one in time, and that I’d have to miss my trip. Thankfully though, the U.S. Embassy shocked me with how incredible they were. I had my new passport within an hour of getting there. One hour!
Now, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I’m glad I got pickpocketed; that it made me stronger or changed me for the better. It didn’t. It sucked. This is what I will say: after I got pickpocketed I was upset at Rome – the city I had grown to love – for hurting me. I was upset at humanity, I was pessimistic, and I had a lot of anger in me. It was all I thought about. But then two days after it happened, on my walk to the police station to file a report, I had to climb up a massive staircase. I was huffing and puffing and miserable by the time I got to the top, and then I looked to my left and saw the most beautiful view of Rome, and things were kind of okay again. Later that day I got the best buffalo mozzarella pizza for lunch. After that, I got my new passport. Then that night, I went out with my friends and sang karaoke. Life went on.
I’m over it now. In fact, I think I got over it that day. I’ve stopped mulling over the ways in which the situation could’ve been avoided. I’ve let go of my anger. After all, other people have been through much, much worse. I’m obviously still not happy that this happened to me. But I’ve learned my lesson – the hard way, unfortunately – and things are good again. I’m so happy to be living in Rome and having the time of my life with my friends. To put things simply, all is well that ends well.