I would like to apologize to the friends, family, and strangers about whom I’ve said negative things when you were pickpocketed. I thought that if you'd known everything I know about how to secure wallets, you never would have lost yours. I was wrong.

A pickpocket targeted me in Dubrovnik last month inside a gelato shop (talk about being punished for gluttony!). I was overwhelmed by a desire to get out of the jam-packed store, and when I abandoned all my pocketbook principles in favor of a quick exit, a woman saw her opportunity and grabbed it.

Recently, while I was lying on the beach in front of the Hilton Hawaiian Village, resting up from the Aloha Festivals’ Floral Parade and sucked 100% into a paperback mystery, a man approached me, wallet in hand. “Are you going to be here for awhile,” he inquired.

Startled, I looked at the time. “A little while,” I answered warily.

“Then, would you mind looking after this for a few minutes,” he asked. And with that, he took his wallet and placed it down in the sand right next to my towel.

I looked at it like it was a crawly bug or something else undesirable, and then looked back at him. He had a huge grin on his face as he continued on to say, “I know you won’t take it, darling,” and before I could even open my mouth to reply, he walked away and into the ocean, going in with a show-off dive.

This is a shameless plea for help. Has anyone else ever sent their precious documents through a very unforgiving spin cycle? My husband and I got back from Peru on Sunday--after traveling for 24 straight hours. Needless to say, I wasn't thinking clearly when I decided to throw my filthy backpack into the washing machine, complete with both of our passports in one of the pockets. Note to self: Sleep, then clean.

Please join us in welcoming Kristin Luna to The Window Seat. She lives in San Francisco and is the writer of the Bloggie-award-winning travel blog Camels and Chocolate.

When I scheduled my 28-hour stopover in Helsinki, I thought I’d do a whirlwind tour of the city, snapping some quality architecture shots in true shutterbug fashion and doing little else. Au contraire, naïve one. Instead, I spent the majority of my time in Finland getting acquainted with the downtown poliisi precinct.

On my way to the ferry station to purchase my ticket to Estonia, I was crossing at the green crosswalk like the law-abiding citizen I am. Out of nowhere, a minivan cab came whipping around the way, and performed an illegal U-turn—at a red light at that—before I had time to contemplate my next move.

I wish I could have read Genevieve's enthusiastic endorsement of Mexico before I visited the country for the first time last week, but alas, I only had my family's swine-flu-and-violence hysteria to turn to. Luckily, I headed south of the border anyway--I'm old enough to know that anything that scares my parents is going to be great fun. Also, I had a work event to attend, and it happened to include five days of sun, sand, and frozen cocktails.

So what's Cancun like right now?

This week's question comes from Susan in Omaha, NE, home of the world's richest man:

If there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that sometimes holding it isn't an option. This week, a man flying from Honduras to Atlanta wound up in jail after using the bathroom in business class.

According to his side of the story, he had food poisoning and couldn't wait any longer. A drink cart was blocking his way to the economy-class bathroom, and though he'd already been told he wasn't allowed to use the business-class bathroom, he went for it. A flight attendant blocked his way and he touched her arm to steady himself. She claims he manhandled her.

If he did hurt her, that's wrong and obviously I would take her side on the issue. I wasn't there so I can't say. BUT I do feel a lot of pity for the poor guy. What is he supposed to do in this situation?

It has been over two weeks since New York City took a front-row seat to the emergency splash landing of US Airways Flight 1549 in the murky Hudson River.  Several days ago, the last part of the left engine was recovered for further investigation into the accident.  Meanwhile, veteran pilot, Chesley B. "Sully" Sullenberger received a hero's homecoming in Danville, California.

Passenger Josh Peltz of Charlotte, N.C., sat in the exit row on the flight and remained calm as he tugged and twisted open the exit door. Were his swift actions critical in helping to save 150 passengers and the five flight crew from the plane that was slowly sinking into the icy river?  Would you have done if you were one of the passengers on US Airways Flight 1549? Would you know the right thing to do?

In planning our big trip to Thailand, one of the top adventures on our list was having bespoke suits made for my husband. He really needs a new suit, but we live in California, the land of every day Casual Friday so we can never bring ourselves to fork over the princely sum. Having suits made in Thailand seemed like the perfect solution. I studied Holly’s post and read about it in my Lonely Planet guidebook, and the one thing I concluded was: it’s easy to get scammed by disreputable tailors.

Savvy traveler that I am, I swore this wasn’t going to happen to me. Oh no! Not clever, insider me! I decided the best way to avoid this was to secure a recommendation from the concierge at our resort. Granted, I knew concierges can be paid off, but we were staying at a high-end, American-owned hotel chain that is known for its customer service and integrity.

I think it was the fact that I’d already spent so much time above the clouds in Rio de Janeiro, from gawking at the Christ the Redeemer statue atop Corcovado to watching the sun set from Pão de Açúcar’s peak, that led me to decide that I just couldn’t leave the city without hang-gliding from Pedro Bonita. Whether I was high on bird’s-eye beauty or just suffering from altitude-induced delirium, I’m not sure. Either way, on my last morning in town, I found myself running at full speed off a ramp in tandem with a hang-gliding instructor I’d met 10 minutes before. This was about 45 minutes after paying $10 for my “pilot’s license” and 5 minutes after practicing my liftoff run (one time).