Idiot In A Strange Land

I was the witless victim of a scam in the Rome train station. Having nothing else to do, we had sat in our seats 45 minutes before our train to Salerno was to leave, and as soon as my wife had gone to the restroom, the guy came out of nowhere (as is their wont), looking like a homeless man with a faux badge – dirty jeans, T-shirt, oily disheveled hair . . . and a laminated badge with picture of someone on it pinned to his chest. He sat down opposite me, the only other person in the car, and asked for my ticket, which I gave to him. He had a laminated badge. In Italian (which I neither speak nor understand) he says that I need to pay an additional €20 as a fee for going from Naples (one stop for the train) to Salerno (the next). I point out that I’ve already paid for the tickets to go to Salerno, but he has a ragged book with figures he’s written in, and asks me to write my name and destination and €20 to his list in his book. I protest slightly, but finally just give him his (formerly my) €20. He leaves, and I already know I’ve been had.

He obviously had me tagged as an easy mark as we were getting on the train, and waited on my wife to leave to get one-on-one with me, the only one in the car. If there would have been anyone else around, they would have no doubt spoken up against the scam. If the transaction would have been in English (or if I were fluent in Italian), it would have been very different:  “You need to pay me an additional €20 fee to go to Salerno.” “Who are you? And no I don’t.” “Yes, you do, look at my laminated badge and ragged book.” “Why don’t we find the conductor, who, if there were such a fee, would be the one to collect it?” But I don’t speak Italian, and so was intimidated, an idiot confronted by an ill-dressed con artist. As I handed over the €20 bill, I was telling myself, “You deserve to lose this, you dumb asshole.” There is, at least, some comfort in being a knowing fool.