This week, I saw a drunk steal a bike in the middle of the city.
I noticed him as I got off the tram. He was young, slightly staggering and drinking from a bottle in a brown paper bag in the middle of the day.
I kept my eye on him in an effort to prevent our paths from crossing. I saw him eyeing off bikes, checking to see whether they were locked up. And then, bingo. He found one leaning against a tree and quickly looked around before jumping on it amidst the hustle and bustle of a busy Melbourne street.
I was a couple of metres away from him. I could have called out to him, but I wasn’t overly keen on confronting him, especially being physically smaller than him and six months pregnant. I could have recruited someone else to do so, but I didn’t. I did try to take a photo of him on my mobile phone, but he got away too quickly.