Angry Old Ladies and their Attempted Rule over the Vilnius Transportation System
Never, ever, ever(!) try to ride public transportation in Vilnius, Lithuania without a ticket. Actually, let’s take things a step farther: don’t even try riding public transportation WITH a ticket. You might be in the right; you might be in the wrong; but in the end you will only lose. This piece of information will probably prove to be as useful to you as the common “Red on yellow, kill a fellow/red on black, friend of Jack” school rhyme (there’s a junk of the brain that’s just screaming “waste of space!”) but I figured I’d throw it out there to all you would-be adventurers out there regardless.
The five of us got on the citybus and promptly stepped up to the window to purchase our tickets. Student tickets were available and considering my seemingly never-ending status as a student (God bless the beaurocracy of the University of Texas and their ID cards without expiration dates), I decided to pad my pocketbook and go for the 70 Lita student ticket, instead of the regularly priced 1,40 Lita ticket (a saving of 29 cents).
Without warning, I was accosted by a crusty old bus lady demanding to see my ticket in the name of the Vilnius Transportation Board and all else that’s holy.
Think of your middle school cafeteria lady. Increase the smell. Take away the English speaking capabilities. That’s what we’re dealing with here. And I thought the Germans grew them tough…
She demanded to see my ticket, and despite my presentations, she was immediately set into a distressed state. I understood the gist of her barbaric rantings: my student ID here was useless. I needed to be a student in Vilnius. I played dumb however.
I attempted to reason with her. She demanded 10 Litas for the fine. I “reasoned” a bit more. Her fellow goons, 2 other ladies, each just a bit crustier than the next, had us surrounded. The bus came to a stop. Before comprehension could set in, I heard calls for “Policija”. No bueno. In one of perhaps the more boneheaded moves available at the current time, Jeff decided he was going to make a run for it and bolted for the bus door. The ladies collapsed on him in layers of crust with more cries for the “Policija”. The bus pulled off to the side of the road, leaving only the 5 of us locked inside with the 3 smelly ladies and a bus driver dazed with a smile on his face.
I’d had my fun by this point. I paid my 10 Lita fine (we’re talking $2.50 here) and was sent to the back of the bus. The others continued to bicker at the front, and while our case was strong (the angry old ladies stood behind us as we purchased our tickets. They knew what we were doing. They very easily could have informed us of the situation, but took a greater pleasure in waiting for our fall), I knew it would lead to nothing. Perhaps it was my education on the borders of Mexico, perhaps it was the constant fears my Mother instilled in me when dealing with these borders, perhaps it was simply that unmeasurable entity known as “common sense”, but I knew without a doubt that I wanted to be dealing with East European policemen about as much as I wanted to be dealing with Mexican Federales (who once accepted 20 dollars instead of the watch Jimmy Price was wearing in exchange for Jason Panek’s freedom) which meant I didn’t want to be dealing with them at all. The others continued their calls for justice under the Western presumptions of ethical law enforcement as I was asked by those in control of the situation to leave the bus, having already paid my fine.
I found a nice park bench about 20 meters from the bus. Sat down. Opened up my book. Got to reading. Looked up. No bus. Hmmmm…. noooo….. busssss…… I read another couple pages of my book.
Without my consent or attention, the bus had simply dissapeared, with all passengers still on board. A German literature Professor of mine on the University always used to teach that life was tragic. To overcome the tragedy of life, man was offered two emotional options. He could cry. Or he could laugh (think of the theatrically symbolic masks). During this moment, just as in all others of my life, I chose to laugh.
Then I tried to figure out how I was going to bail the four of them out of jail. I suppose I’d be willing to spring for 500 Lita for each of the girls, but I wasn’t going to be dropping any more than 300 on Jeff (those girls look alot better than he does. And I only have so much money…)
As I set off to check out the architectual wonders of a Cathedral across the road, the first stop on my way to finding the local jail, I saw tweedle-dee, tweedle-dum and two of the three stooges bumbling down the street. They’d gotten away without having to do any hard-time. Paid a small fine and were on their way. They were sour the rest of the day. I still find it pretty funny.
When travelling, I always set a part of my budget aside for scams. I know I’m going to get scammed. I’ve been scammed in Spain and I’ve been scammed in Lithuania and I’ve been scammed pretty much anywhere else in between. It’s part of the tourist tax. Kind of like being served something you didn’t order. You either eat it or you don’t. There’s no sending it back. No refund. And if you don’t like that, either learn the language or don’t visit the country. Ahhh…. don’t you just love travelling…..