On the way back from Pisa, of course the machine was broken, again. I stuffed the ticket in the machine hard about 6 times before I gave up and just got on the train. I was riding dirty until the second to last stop. He asked to see my ticket.
I said to myself "play it cool," and gave him my ticket. He looked at it and then at me and shook his head. "No." I told him what happened, that the validation machiene was broken in both places and I tried to stamp it, pointing to where it crinkled and durned black from the ink. He shook his head again. "No, you forgot both times. You cannot do that."
We went back and forth for about five minutes. He said he needed my passport so I gave him a copy of the front page. I was not paying a fine for something I had no control over. He shook his head again. "No, I need your American address so I can send the fine."
What? You need what? No, sorry, not gonna happen. I told him that. He walked away, came back, and said he called the police on me with such satisfaction I would have spit on him if I didn't know better.
I don't care who you call. Yeah, I said that.
I had never been so nervous in my entire life. My whole body was shaking, my heart was torn between my stomach and my throat. The lump. I kept thinking, "What if I never see my mom again? What if they just take me away and not even ask what happened or don't even care? I'm not paying the fine. I'm just not. What if I never get out of here?" I had my sunglasses on so the people across from me probably thought I was being a g but, no. Not at all.
I walk off the train and see the two cops there. The ticket is busy writing up another American so I walk up to one of the cops and explained what happened. He looked at me, blew his cigarette smoke in my face, and said "they are always broken." He turns to the man who made a seen and asks him in Italian if I'm okay to go. He waves his head and nods. "Yeah."
Punk.
This is what he did to my ticket. Completely unnecessary.
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