A Bad Trip
It was spring 1994. Rupert came from Hong Kong to Paris to visit. He went to Lyon for engineering school on a French government scholarship. There, he met Gordon and Charles -- also engineering students from Hong Kong. If not because Rupert told me there were similar scholarships for management schools, I would never have gone to France to study.
The four of us went to visit a Hong Kong woman, another former engineering student, who married a French guy and settled down in the suburb to the northwest of Paris. As you can imagine: Chinese food, French wines plus rounds and rounds of Mahjong games. We hung out till very late before we decided to go crash at Gordon's place near Moulin Rouge.
In every city, there are always places that the locals tell tourists not to go at night. Paris is no exception. The northern part of Paris is one of those neighborhoods. We thought we were locals, and we were only traveling through on Metro. It should be ok. Looking back, we were young and really stupid.
The train was somewhat crowded for such late hours in the evening. There were not many empty seats. The four of us decided to stand together near the end of one car so we could chat. Everything seemed very normal until the energy in the air suddenly changed.
Who knows when these men boarded the train. By the time I noticed them, one was sitting in the front row by an older gentleman who was reading the newspaper. The young man blatantly leaned towards the older man to pick things out of his shirt pocket. Apparently, there was nothing of value. He proceeded to reach into the old man's pants pocket and got his wallet. The old gentleman was totally oblivious of that. Meanwhile, another man sitting behind them stuck his hand into a woman's purse and started searching for valuables.
I looked up and saw the popping eyes of my friends. I was about to say something; one of them put his hand over my mouth. I turned to look again: there were actually five or six men in this gang. Pretty much everybody on board were very aware of their existence by this point. Everybody was frozen in place. These men stared the passengers down audaciously as they walked up and down the aisle of the car. They basically took anything they wanted from people's pockets and bags as they please. Nobody resisted. Nobody even dared to make a sound. All we could do was to gape at them fearfully. Before we knew it, one of them was reaching for Gordon's backpack. Fortunately, Gordon felt it and turned. Gordon is very tall guy and his momentum was enough to shake that guy off.
Like a school of terrified fish, we and other passengers tried to move away from the guys near our end of the car. But it was useless. His friends were cornering us from the other direction. We had become prey in captivity. All of this happened during the time when the train was between two Metro stations. It felt like eternity, though.
The moment the car door opened, my friends grabbed my hand and started running out of the train. Guess what? The gang was heading out, too! For one split second, both groups paused and stared at each other on the platform. We ran back towards the train; they did the same. We stopped to turn towards the exit. So did they. It was a theatrical standoff for a very long few seconds. But then, the leader of the gang signaled to flee. In a blink, the entire gang vanished from the Metro platform into the exits.
The train had not left the station yet. The four of us hopped right back on the train into another car. It was quiet and unremarkable. People were reading, dozing off, chatting . . . Things could not be more normal than normal. Suddenly, this flagrant group robbery that took place less than a minute ago almost felt like the flashback of a questionable mind.
Did it really happen?
The four of us went to visit a Hong Kong woman, another former engineering student, who married a French guy and settled down in the suburb to the northwest of Paris. As you can imagine: Chinese food, French wines plus rounds and rounds of Mahjong games. We hung out till very late before we decided to go crash at Gordon's place near Moulin Rouge.
In every city, there are always places that the locals tell tourists not to go at night. Paris is no exception. The northern part of Paris is one of those neighborhoods. We thought we were locals, and we were only traveling through on Metro. It should be ok. Looking back, we were young and really stupid.
The train was somewhat crowded for such late hours in the evening. There were not many empty seats. The four of us decided to stand together near the end of one car so we could chat. Everything seemed very normal until the energy in the air suddenly changed.
Who knows when these men boarded the train. By the time I noticed them, one was sitting in the front row by an older gentleman who was reading the newspaper. The young man blatantly leaned towards the older man to pick things out of his shirt pocket. Apparently, there was nothing of value. He proceeded to reach into the old man's pants pocket and got his wallet. The old gentleman was totally oblivious of that. Meanwhile, another man sitting behind them stuck his hand into a woman's purse and started searching for valuables.
I looked up and saw the popping eyes of my friends. I was about to say something; one of them put his hand over my mouth. I turned to look again: there were actually five or six men in this gang. Pretty much everybody on board were very aware of their existence by this point. Everybody was frozen in place. These men stared the passengers down audaciously as they walked up and down the aisle of the car. They basically took anything they wanted from people's pockets and bags as they please. Nobody resisted. Nobody even dared to make a sound. All we could do was to gape at them fearfully. Before we knew it, one of them was reaching for Gordon's backpack. Fortunately, Gordon felt it and turned. Gordon is very tall guy and his momentum was enough to shake that guy off.
Like a school of terrified fish, we and other passengers tried to move away from the guys near our end of the car. But it was useless. His friends were cornering us from the other direction. We had become prey in captivity. All of this happened during the time when the train was between two Metro stations. It felt like eternity, though.
The moment the car door opened, my friends grabbed my hand and started running out of the train. Guess what? The gang was heading out, too! For one split second, both groups paused and stared at each other on the platform. We ran back towards the train; they did the same. We stopped to turn towards the exit. So did they. It was a theatrical standoff for a very long few seconds. But then, the leader of the gang signaled to flee. In a blink, the entire gang vanished from the Metro platform into the exits.
The train had not left the station yet. The four of us hopped right back on the train into another car. It was quiet and unremarkable. People were reading, dozing off, chatting . . . Things could not be more normal than normal. Suddenly, this flagrant group robbery that took place less than a minute ago almost felt like the flashback of a questionable mind.
Did it really happen?
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