Poix has an unattended train station. In fact, it's for sale if you're looking for an interesting home. You could make a few bucks by opening up a café for the few travelers who pass through there each day. Take the two mysterious strangers who approached me today, speaking broken English and asking how to get to A-men. What they were doing in Poix is beyond me. And did they use English because they could tell by my shoes that I'm American, or do they not speak any French?
My first few trips to Amiens, I had to purchase a ticket on the train because my American Visa card wouldn't work in the automatic ticketing machine, and I didn't have enough coins. Last Wednesday, I was finally able to buy my ticket in the machine, thanks to my new French bank card. Apparently I can't have everything work at the same time; the composteur that you have to use to validate your ticket was out of order. I was prepared to explain this to the train man when he came by to check my ticket. Except that he never came. My ticket was valid through the 4th of November, so when I got home I pinned it to my bulletin board to use next time.
So today, since I had a lunch appointment in town, I grabbed my ticket and hopped on the train. The composteur was still out of order, so I prepared my same story as last week. The train man was not pleased to see that 1) my ticket wasn't validated and 2) there was a mysterious hole in my ticket. I had to explain that I'd bought the ticket and then didn't use it (entirely untrue) and that the hole was from the punaise I'd used to stick it to my cork board. I'm 99% certain he didn't buy my story. He rather harshly stated that when the composteur is out of order, it's my duty to seek him out on the train and tell him. Vous avez compris? I think I came very close to having to pay a fine, but think I was saved by the fact that he couldn't prove that I'd used that ticket before. He then punched a slightly larger hole next to the offensive thumb-tack one, and moved on.
Okay scary train man, I've learned my lesson. And honestly sir, my students back in Oklahoma City can tell you that I am normally a strict rule-follower. See kids, I told you. The few times in my life I've tried to break the rules, I have gotten caught. Why did I think it would be any different in France?
1 comment:
I want to buy the train station and set-up a cafe!!! How perfect!
Your story reminds me of a misadventure I had on the bus in Besancon, where I knowingly rode the bus on a Friday even though my weekly pass didn't begin until the next Monday. I too came very close to getting a huge fine, but I played it off as the dumb american. The bus police (what are they called en francais??) offered to walk me back to the office in centre ville to help me get the correct weekly pass. Luckily I was able to convince them I was capable of making it back there on my own. I felt so guilty the rest of the weekend, though.
I guess being in France brings out the deceitfulness in us honest gals, huh? :)
Post a Comment