the_taliban_shuffle_-_kim_barker

Tribune foreign correspondents were asked to give travel tips to readers
—our best of the world, the hidden delights that tourists should enjoy.
Other correspondents wrote about cities and regions people might
actually visit. I sat in Chicago and wrote about Islamabad, a town with
practically no social life except for what we invented. This was the
newspaper equivalent of a burlesque performance. “Plus, most of the
other places I once took guests have closed because of security fears or
nearby suicide blasts,” I wrote, explaining why I took visitors to the
Serena Hotel. Guests? I had never had guests in Pakistan. Friends and
family members were more likely to vacation in prison.
My immediate boss and I decided to go to a Chicago Cubs baseball
game, another exercise in futility. Before we left, I heard him pick up
the phone.
“Yes. Yes, well, she’s actually right here.”
He talked some more before punching the hold button.
“Kim. The caller says he’s from the Chicago Police Department, and
that you’ve been a victim of identity theft.”
“What?”
“That’s what he says. Don’t tell him anything. You need to gure out
if he’s really a cop.”
I picked up the phone.
“Is this Kimberly Barker?” the alleged police officer asked.
“Yes.”
He identified himself as a cop.
“Kimberly Barker, you have been a victim of identity theft,” he then
said, in a game-show voice that just as easily could have told me I won
a million dollars.
“What?” I said.
He explained to me that a woman had been arrested with a fake
Indiana driver’s license with my name, and with real credit cards and a
bank card with my name.
I opened my purse. My wallet was gone. And I didn’t know where I
had lost it because I had been carrying my driver’s license, my current
bank card, and the only credit card I used separately. Whoever stole my
wallet pocketed no money. The credit cards were all useless, either
expired or never activated, and the bank card was old. Yes, I had done
a very poor job keeping current plastic.