The time someone stole my camera.
Mamiya RZ67
The year was 2003 in Paris.
I swear, I don’t even remember what time of year it was because my mind just blacked out that time of my life that only thing that I remember was aftermath of what happened after my camera got stolen.
I came to Paris just 2 years after 9/11 happened in NYC.
I moved back to LA temporarily because business slowed down for me in NYC.
Thinking that LA would be a little better, well, it wasn’t.
I don’t know why I decided to go to Paris with barely any money but I did.
Perhaps, my fortune would be a little different there and just need to be in a different environment and scenery.
And why not, Paris has always been so inspirational and I love the city.
When I got to Paris, the whole vibe was different.
The whole time I was there, I barely did anything.
Some shootings but nothing really substantial to write about.
I wanted to stay for 2 months but my money was running out and I could barely afford the hotel that I was staying at. Literally, I had to borrow some money from friends and family just to keep me afloat.
But, after a month, I decided to come back to the US.
Fun fact, a modeling agency (Nous Models) in LA actually paid for the change of ticket for me, in lieu of shooting a couple of models for them pro bono.
Yes, I was that broke.
The day arrived to leave Paris and I woke up rearing to get to the airport early.
I pop out of the hotel to mail a couple of postcards to my friends in America so I dropped off my luggage and my camera bag at the reception.
They had a little storage room to put luggages at.
Since it’s its morning and people were coming in and out of the hotel, I would assume that the receptionist (which I had a great relationship with) would store my stuff in their storage room.
I was gone for maybe 10 minutes and when I returned to the hotel, I’d asked the receptionist to get my bags.
When she returned, she only grabbed my luggage.
I’d asked her where’s my camera bag?
She knew I dropped off my luggage and my camera bag and for some reason, she thought I only dropped off one bag . . .
I was like, “I gave you 2 bags, madame!”
She went back to the storage room and looked around again.
At some point, I went over to help her check in the storage room.
I looked around and no camera bag!
I had this overwhelming pain in my chest and my breathing became shallower and shallower and from there, I started crying uncontrollably. I was yelling and screaming! I mean, screaming!!
I’m sure the guests heard my screeching all over the hotel.
I was in the ground crying and wailing and one of the hotel staff tried to carry me to the receptionist chair to calm me down . . . but I was too hysterical to be consoled.
I just saw my whole life flash before my eyes.
My camera was my whole life.
I have no livelihood without a camera.
The uncontrollable hysteria in my head was more than the camera getting lost.
It was all emotions of frustration, guilt, fatigue and anger with what was going on with my life even before coming to Paris. The camera was just the catalyst to get all these emotions out.
After 10 minutes of being on the ground crying, the owner of the hotel showed up and tried to calm me down and I swear, when I opened my eyes, I saw all these guests just walking past me and seeing their faces, it’s almost like they saw a ghost. I’m sure it was a shock early in the morning to hear and see me on the ground screaming and crying.
The owner brought me to his office and asked me what had happened.
All I can remember saying to the owner was, “You’re going to pay for it!”
I don’t even remember what I said to him, but those 5 words were the ones that resonated.
At this point, we were walking down the street to the police station to file a stolen goods report.
I remember the police officer couldn’t speak English so the owner had to translate for me.
But, what I can deduce from the conversation with the owner and the police, I mean, I took French in high school and collage so I can make out some words. I heard INSURANCE during their conversation.
As I stared blankly at the white walls of the police precinct, all I can think about was can I still make my flight?
The owner turned around to me and told me that the police will do an investigation with the staff and with the filing of the police report, he can file for insurance to at least pay for the camera.
But, then I remembered, I shot an editorial for a magazine and all the film are in that bag!
And it wasn’t just the camera that was in that bag, I had all the other accessories like lenses, light meter, film, cords, etc . . . I mean, the camera alone was at least $4000 (Mamiya RZ 67). And that’s not including the lens!
I started crying again because now I have to explain to the people that were involved in the shoot and the magazine that I lost the film! All that work, gone!
We left the station and went back to the hotel.
At this point, my flight has left already and as I sat back down at the owner’s office.
I told him that he’s going pay for everything.
My plane ticket back home and to stay at the hotel until my flight back and of course, my camera.
I called my parents and told them what happened. They were horrified.
They kept on telling me that the hotel has to pay for my flight back and I can stay at the hotel for free until my flight back home because it was their fault.
I told the owner to call the airline to change my flight and pay for the change of ticket.
I thought he did . . . I mean, I heard him on the phone talking to them.
The earliest flight back that they can get me was in 4 days.
I’m like 4 days!!
I literally have zero money!
Yes, I can stay at the hotel but how am I going to eat.
Let me tell you, that the owner was getting upset with me because he felt likeI was making too much demands and that I should be lucky that the insurance is going to pay for my camera.
I seriously don’t remember what happened next.
I think I walked out and they gave me a room in the attic of the hotel.
Yes, the attic . . .
I mean, it was my own room and the roof fold in like a triangle but I was just happy that I had somewhere to stay.
The polaroids of the lost shoot (Leticia Birkeuer & Sabrina)
The polaroids of the lost shoot (Leticia Birkheuer & Sabrina)
I called the stylist, Morgane that styled the shoot and told her that my camera got stolen and the film is in the bag.
Within a couple of hours, she stopped by the hotel and let me tell you, she wasn’t having it.
She walked up to the receptionist and told that bitch off.
Understandably, she was upset because we all worked hard on that shoot and all the clothes were from Givenchy! Now, she has to explain to the PR people what happened.
That night I cried myself to sleep.
I seriously don’t remember what I did during the days I was stuck in Paris until my flight.
I think I spent a lot of time in bed or just walked around the Louvre and try to at least enjoy a little bit of Paris.
But, honestly, I just wanted to go home.
I barely ate and I barely had any energy to do anything.
All I remember was I was chain smoking like a freaking chimney!
The day of my departure.
Morgane, the stylist said she can drive me to the airport.
I was waiting for her outside the hotel (and let me tell you, the looks that I got when I left the hotel . . . I mean, if looks could kill!) I was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette when the receptionist (this time it was a different one but he knew what transpired) . . . he told me that I have a phone call.
It was Morgane. She said that her boyfriend’s car stalled in the middle of the highway and that she can’t take me to the airport.
I know, I know what you’re thinking.
What else could go wrong.
I started crying again and Morgane wanted to talk to receptionist to ask if there’s anyone there that can take me to the airport. At this point, I only had 2 hours to get to Charles De Gaulle Airport and it’s an hour at best without traffic from the city center. and you have to be at the airport 3 hours in advance. And taking the Metro, well, that’s out of the question.
I was literally panicking.
I can’t get stuck here again!
My life was constantly crying during that 4 days and the receptionist couldn’t stand it anymore and he called a cab for me and he took out his wallet and gave me 50 euros of his own money!
I wasn’t sure if it’s out of pity or he just wanted me to leave asap!
I took the money and got in the cab and headed to the airport.
I got to the airport and rushed to American Airline ticketing booth.
I waited in line and when I got to an agent and gave my passport.
You will never guess what happened???
The reservation is there but the charge for the change of ticket was never paid!
Yup, the owner lied to me and told me that he paid for my change of ticket.
At this point, there were no more tears!
I’d resigned.
I just literally stood there and didn’t know what to do.
The lady told me to step aside and she said that she called her manager to come and help me.
After 10 minutes, this British lady came for me and she walked me inside their office.
She looked at the history of my itinerary and she said, “Wow, so many changes to this ticket!”
I’m like, “Tell me about it!”
I recounted what happened and I gave her a copy of the police report just to prove that I was telling the truth.
She went to her computer and typed in something and she told me that she will waive the charge and let me board the flight back to LA!!
You cannot believe the feeling of relief!
It’s like I finally exhaled after not breathing at all for 4 days!
I think I was just excited to board the plane (even though they gave me the middle seat), because I get to eat! Literally, I didn’t eat for 3 days! I was running on coffee and cigarettes!
Don’t ask me how I can afford cigarettes but I was smoking them left and right!
As I got out of immigration in the United States and seeing my parents while coming down the escalator, you cannot imagine the feeling of just pure relief that I made it back home.
Yes, without a camera and I owed so many people money but just being back home . . . there’s no feeling like it.
Oh right, before I forget, the insurance of the hotel did pay for only half of the camera’s value.
Because of the depreciation of the camera, they were only going to pay for half.
And can you believe it, on top of that, the owner said to the insurance that they have to take a portion of the money to pay for my hotel stay for 4 days!
It took 3 months for the insurance to pay.
I started back to work without my medium format camera.
Thank god, I had my handy Nikon 35mm camera back at home!
To this day, I had no clue who stole my camera.
Was it the receptionist since she knew that I was a photographer?
Was it a guest that saw my camera bag and just took it?
I have no idea.
Moral of the story: DON’T LEAVE YOUR SHIT ANYWHERE!