At the tender age of 18 I was on my first holiday abroad sans mes parents in Paris. Myself and my mate had just taken in the sites and were trying to make our way back to our hostel in Montmartre. Unfortuntely we ended up taking a couple of wrong metros and more than a few wrong turns. So there we were, two young Irish idiots stood in this run down Parisian ghetto with bulging pockets and staring at a giant map.
It wasn't long before we had company and after some not so friendly introductions it wasn't long before I had a knife pointed at my stomach. This was partly my fault for grabbing my wallet out of his hands after he had kindly removed it from my pocket for me. This led to screaming from a woman nearby, which led to my new Parisian friend running for cover. The police then drove by and my mate asked if anything was taken. I said no as I had grabbed my wallet back before he fled. The police drove off and I then realised I was sans phone! Not a good start to a holiday!