Breaking the Law

Christie, posing after our 'situation' with Antonello the Cop.

CASE #: 386471-CC

TITLE: Gas and Dash

The following story is true.  Names have not been changed to protect the innocent.

 

In Italy, EVERYTHING is an adventure… however rarely does a simple task take you to the brink of JAIL.  Case in point: Getting Gas with my wife.

 

It all began so simple – as we were crossing the island on a beautiful sunny afternoon, headed towards Agrigento, our tank was running low and we therefore needed to find the nearest gas station.  Pulling up to AGIP (also known to locals as “A-Gyp” for its unfair, high prices), it seemed like a normal stop.  “Pieno,” I said, “Fill it up.”

 

No problem… 40 liters and 54 Euro later, it was time to pay.  However, this is where the fun began.

 

“Bankomat?” I asked the attendant.

 

“No… EEEEMpossible,” he replied shaking his head.

 

“Por che?” I asked. (Why?  Every other gas station accepts our bankcard.)

 

At this point I was told their phone line was temporarily not working and that I must pay cash.  We were not carrying any, so we were a little perplexed.  “VISA?” I countered.  Again, “Impossible” was the answer.  It all seemed a little fishy to me, as their computer system seemed to be working fine and there were plenty of other customers around who were obviously not paying cash.

 

HOWEVER, this is where the story does get interesting – as 6 months of dealing with Italy’s lack of customer service had finally taken its toll on my poor wife Christie.  “NO!” she demanded, “Why didn’t you tell us this before we pumped our gas?  You MUST take our VISA or BANKOMAT!  You have no sign up!  How else are we supposed to pay?”

 

The attendant didn’t have an answer, nor did he have a sign stating “cash only” or even an elementary understanding of English.  He just kept shrugging his shoulders, using the patented Italian soccer player “praying motion” and telling us the word impossible.  All this just fueled the fire for Christie, who was about to spit fire like Mt. Etna, as they were clearly not prepared to offer us a solution.

 

Not sure what to do, I tried to explain to them that they should have either told us this before or let us go get money and return.  However, they simply kept repeating “Impossible… Impossible… EEEEEMPossible” as if they were a schoolyard bully poking a foreign kid in the chest… only the kid was Christie and she was not about to back down.

 

The next 5 minutes are a blur to me, but I can tell you that they included infinitely more hand-gestures, a lot of yelling, and the use of a few choice “stupidos” that seemed to find their mark.  Flustered she grabbed my arm, looked back and told the attendants, “You need to make a decision – we have important things to do!  We’re going… and we are NOT paying…”

 

So stupidly, we drove away like Thelma & Louise… getting 500 meters down the highway and reliving every moment of the almost surreal situation that had just occurred… COMPLETELY UNAWARE THAT TWO UNDERCOVER CARIBINIERI (Italian Police) WERE WATCHING THE WHOLE THING!

 

Out of nowhere, a car with two screaming men pulled even with us on the highway, flashing its lights and waving a bright red “Stop Paddle” that Italian Police use to pull cars over.  They forced us off the road and immediately jumped out of their vehicle.  I knew exactly what they wanted… but knew I couldn’t let Christie handle the negotiations.  An even stronger thought was that I didn’t want to get thrown into jail during my last week in Sicily!

 

As they flashed their badges, I began explaining the situation to the two cops in my best Italian… how the gas station would not let us pay and that we were merely going to find a bank and return with the “cash only” payment.  They seemed as perplexed as I did, but eventually asked me to show them my wallet and prove that at least I did intend to pay by card.  They then talked amongst themselves for a few minutes, I think discussing where they should dump our bodies and who would dispose of the car.  However, before they could complete their plans, I offered to jump in their car and ride straight to the bank with them. This seemed to placate the situation, and at this, they smiled and realized that we were just some poor (but angry) tourists… and told us that we were to follow them to the nearest bank and get the necessary cash.

 

We trailed them to the town of Enna, winding wildly through 10 minutes of hot, dusty backroads.  It didn’t help our nerves when we passed two signs announcing “Police Station” ahead… who drives themselves to jail?  When we reached the bank, I ran to the bank machine and pulled out the money while Christie (aka ‘The Negotiator’) asked the police if she could just give them the money instead.  “Honey,” I said calmly, “Please stop trying to pay off the cops and let’s just follow them back.”

 

By the time we returned to the gas station, the situation had cooled considerably.  The Caribinieri were laughing and even posed for some pictures with us.  I quickly paid the gas attendant, who then received an earful from the cops.  Christie was fully vindicated, and the rest of us were happy to be heading down the road and not to a crowded jail.

 

HOWEVER… as we pulled out of the gas station, something back at one of the pumps caught my eye and made my jaw completely drop:

 

A local man pulled out his Visa, which they gladly accepted.  Impossible.

 

Yes, that is relief on my face.

~ J. Twice