Belgrade 5-o

"Passports, please!"

That was the Serbian police officer's welcome as my Belgrade-Budapest train left the station. Ok, here you go. After flipping around the pages, he seemed to not find what he was looking for. He frowned, then his face lit up.

Almost smiling he said: "You are in offense. You did not register with the police after 24 hours in our country. You must get off the train with me in Novi Sad, go to the judge and pay 300 euro."

I just stared at him, disbelieving. Just what I needed. As if to prove that he wasn't lying, he asked the sobbing Swedish girl next to me (he wasn't crying for me: she had just left her boyfriend) to produce her registration card, which she did. She's a Swede, damn it, of course SHE would know that stupid law. Stupid Scandanavians.

But my police officer was already thinking.

"I will call my superior and see what I can do." He left, only to reappear after 2 minutes, still smiling. "Come with me, I am not sure I can help you. Please bring your stuff."

The other Serbian student in my cabin told me not to worry as I grabbed my stuff and followed Happy Cop #1 into the hallway. He directed me into the next cabin, which was empty. There were two options running through my head: either they were going to beat me with their batons, or mine their American treasure chest.

I looked like a total sucker.

"Well, I will try to get you a lower offense, with a lower fine. I'm trying to do everything for you, because I think you are nice." I was literally shaking out of the excitement of having to bribe a police officer. That would be fun. "Let me make another phone call." He stepped out the cabin. Through the reflection in the window, I could see him stand in the hallway, put the phone to his head, and say nothing. He returned after 45 seconds, still smiling. Cocky SOB.

"Well, I lied for you and said that you had lost your card. He said that you can pay 50 euro here on the train and no problem." Well, I admitted, I only have some 3,000 dinar on me (about 30 euro), but I also have some Macedonian money.

He didn't miss a beat. "No, that's ok, pay what you can in dinar." He wadded the bills behind his badge in his police wallet, those types that they flip open when they show you their badge and say: "POLICE. Can I take your money?" Classic.

The milking complete, the new story began, with a better ending. "You know," he relaxed into his seat. His colleague, who had been silent the entire time, continued staring out the window. "I like Americans. I just don't like your government."

"That makes two of us."

I don't think he expected that because he proceeded to interrogate me about my position on Kosovo (I don't have a strong opinion, but I toed the official line: no separatism!), about Obama (he's the same!), and Iraq and Afghanistan (where's that?). Having satisfied his curiosity, he relaxed some more. We proceeded to discuss the merits of not voting in a system where you don't have real choices. He believed that all governments were crap. My heart sang: "An anarchist! He's an anarchist! La la laa dee daa!" He was shocked to learn that we don't have universal health care in the US; he was under the impression that the empire takes everything from the rest of the world to take care of (US)Americans. I learned that the bribe I just paid him was 10% of his monthly salary; but, he exclaimed, "we here in Serbia have fun with or without money!"

The politic discussion fast melted into talk about girls, music, parties. He was really into 50cent. (What's with that? I saw 50cent concert posters all throughout the Balkans. Apparently, he is on his "Before I Self Destruct" Tour. Lame.) I told him that 50cent was crap, and he should check out Dead Prez, or maybe Immortal Technique (the image of Immortal Technique ripping off his shirt in concert to expose another shirt with a hammer and sickle made me think that Happy Cop #1 would like him.) Do I have Facebook? (After so many random people asking me to join, I feel like I MUST be missing out on something here.)

Happy Cop #2 joined in the party and played some Billy Idol on his phone. They started arguing, each telling the other to turn down the music so that I could judge which music was better (Tupac won). They liked my joke about George Bush jumping out an airplane. I honestly forgot to tell them my "a string walks into a bar" joke.

After over an hour of laughing (I am sure my previous cabin-mates next to us must have been wondering what the hell was going on), they had to leave the train at Novi Sad. We said our goodbyes. I was wondering if out of conscience, he would return the money, but he didn't. That's ok, it was worth it.

As he left, he turned around and asked me, "Are the police in America like me? I mean, do they talk to you?" I told him that generally, they blow, but there are good ones. "Are most Americans like you, really friendly?"

I thought, not usually; only when we get to bribe police officers.