I had to laugh. I hopped on a public bus in Jakarta—not far to go, didn’t see a taxi, what the hell. Like any conveyance at rush hour in the third world, it was packed with standing passengers, sardine fashion, barely room to breathe. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my back pocket, and with reflex speed my hand caught hold of the culprit’s wrist. When I turned around an instant later to confront the guy pinned by my grasp, his hand still in my wallet pocket, he had the temerity to point to some other guy and say ‘oh no, not me, it’s him!’ (honestly, this really happened.)