SteveA wrote:
oely Wrote:

Im curious also. There are that many stories that come from this city.

The (long) story..

Mid 1980's. I was backpacking in Europe. I had been travelling with a
girl from Finland for a few days. We had checked out of our
accommodation and went separate directions that morning. I was to catch
a train that night. I had a bad cold so I spent the day doing lazy
things around the station area. Coffee, watching buskers, chatting to
other travellers. It started to get chilly so I sought the refuge of
the station waiting room where I read a book.

While I was waiting, a chap about my own age with an American accent
approached me. He was in quite an agitated state. He told me a sad
story of having his wallet and all his credit cards, airline ticket,
papers etc stolen and needing to get a train to Belgium where he had
family and could get his airline ticket replaced.

He asked if I could help him out with some money which he would arrange
for American Express to replay to me at my next destination (of course).
I was sympathetic, but I am also naturally wary and cynical. I gave
him the equivalent of A$10. I thought that if he was conning me, I was
not going to miss that amount, but if he really was in genuine distress,
It might go a little way to helping.

He got some money from other people who were waiting and then left. I
went back to my book.

20 minutes later, he was back. This time being held by the scruff of
the neck by a chap in a leather jacket and sunglasses. The leather
jacket introduced himself as a policeman and told me that his charge
was a junkie who scabbed money off travellers to buy his next fix. His
parents were American and Dutch, hence the American accent. It appeared
that he was a pest who was known to the police.

The cop asked if I would make a statement detailing what had happened.
I agreed and went to the police office in/near the station. The cop
typed up my statement. In Dutch. He read it back in English and asked
me to sign it. I don't speak Dutch. I do speak German so I could guess
some of what was on the statement. Before I would sign it, I demanded
that the cop also type "as translated into English and read to the
signatory in English by........" and that the cop put his signature to
the translation. He did, and I then signed it. While all this was
happening I got coffee and biscuits from the cops. And I got to sit in
a warm police station.

I then went back to the waiting room to read my book and wait for my
train. Half an hour into the book, my junkie 'mate' arrived again.

He had come to apologise. I said "thanks for the apology now feck
off". He did.

Another half hour later he came back, this time with a can of Heineken
as a peace offering and a lament along the lines of "I'm sorry, I want
to be your friend" . This time I spoke much softer but when I told him
to "Feck Off" he knew I was serious and he never came back.

(And I never got my money back either)


SteveA



"Beggers" seem to be fairly common in European train stations. At Bern
in Switzerland the youth hostel is behind the parliment house and there
is a park area where drug addicts hang out. At night time you have to
"run the gauntlet" and hope you don't lose your wallet in the process.

Marty