The bird poo travel scam and how to avoid it

I got scammed by two elderly pensioners on holiday. Photo / Getty Images

The biggest lesson I learnt from being scammed in Buenos Aires is that assumptions are far more dangerous than criminals.

I’d say I’ve thwarted a fair few travel scams in my time. The overly friendly Italian chap who became less so when I sat on my bag; the woman on a Barcelona train, irate when her swift little fingers were not quite swift enough to uncurl my tightly fisted purse.

Still, I’ve been had a few times too, and I’ve been particularly “well had” in Buenos Aires.

It’s called the bird poo scam.

We all know con artists work their magic by distraction; asking unsuspecting travellers the time or requesting directions. But I never suspected an elderly couple in their late 70s to swindle me out of $600. Which is exactly how they succeeded: my assumptions became my downfall.

This is how it played out.

I’m walking down a wide, well-lit street in Buenos Aires, the Obelisco is in full view. I’m set to join a tour later that day and have checked out of my hotel, hence a morning of sightseeing complete with a bag full of possessions, including my wallet, phone and passport which are all padlocked inside my daypack. My camera – a new DSLR which isn’t flash but one I’d saved hard for – is around my neck.

An elderly couple is in front of me, consulting a map. I’ve clocked them as a couple of tourists, struggling – like I had – with the squiggle of city streets.

My thoughts are interrupted by a deluge of slimy gunk hitting my head and squelching down my face. It smells rancid.

Don't make assumptions or you may fall victim to an elaborate travel scam. Photo / Getty Images

As if on cue – because it was – grandma turns around and exclaims in horror for me, shuffling towards me with feigned concern. I’m somewhat dazed due to the sheer amount of putrid liquid sliding down my mouth. It came from above and my rationale is that it’s from a bird, but at this quantity – does Argentina have pterodactyls?

Grandpa is here now too, shouting in Spanish. Grandma is wiping my face aggressively with a tissue and gesticulating that I remove my backpack. I refuse to but when I realise it’s coated in poo – and I’d borrowed this bag from a friend – I take it off to inspect the damage.

My brand-new camera is also dripping in gunk. I remove it and wrap both my camera strap and backpack around my ankle. I’m panicking that the goop is getting in the camera lens but I also need to get the slime out of my eyes and mouth.

Without warning, grandma starts viciously twisting me around like an overly zealous dance partner. She’s wiping me with a tissue but rather than help, she’s smearing its soggy remnants further into my face.

One full circle and I quickly spy my camera and backpack still on the ground around my feet. My heart’s racing because I know something’s amiss. Grandma spins me again. The Spanish shouting continues.

Solo travel in Buenos Aires is not without its pitfalls. Photo / Nicolás Flor; Unsplash

Grandma is getting agitated when a young man comes along and asks what’s going on. Grandma and grandpa point to the sky, imitating a bird and I (stupidly) follow their collective gaze and look up. When I look down again, the camera has gone.

“THAT MAN TAKE YOUR CAMERA!” The young man yells and points down the street at a man in the near distance.

I’m not proud of this part but I grab my bag, thankfully still wrapped around my ankle and run after the perp. He gets pushed up against the wall and midway through shouting at him, all the pennies drop at once, and I look back at grandma and grandpa. Except they have gone, along with my brand-new camera.

I let go of the young lad harpooned against the wall, his eyes wide and mouth aghast, and apologise profusely. Mostly for the assault but also for the bad smell.

The next few hours are spent traipsing back to the hotel where my tour group will later meet and asking reception for help. I’m taken to the police station so I can report the theft. It’s a revolving door of victims crying about stolen purses, pickpockets, scams and muggings.

I deduce there were at least three crooks in on the act: granny, grandpa and the man on the street, likely also the person who threw “poo” from a balcony above. When I ran, they no doubt fled back inside.

The trio relied on me to make assumptions and that I did. Because old people don’t do bad things, right?