(I’m about 17 at the time and I’m waiting with a couple of friends for some of our other friends after school at a train/bus station so we can go hang out at an arcade when a local stoner who most us know wanders up to us.)

Stoner: “Heeeey man, do you have, like, 50 cents you could spare?”

Me: “I think so”

(My friends ignore him but I look through my coins and see that I have no 50s so I give him $2, thinking it is a bus fare.)

Stoner: “Thanks, girly, you have good karma.”

(He then wanders off towards town.)

Me: “Ummm, okie dokie, then.”

Friend #1: “[My Name], I think you just gave him drug money.”

Me: “Wait, what! It was only $2! How much could he possibly get with $2?”

Friend #2: “You’d be surprised.”

Me: “Well, s***.”

Announcement: “Ladies and Gentlemen, our train will shortly call at [Next Station]. Please note that our onward journey to [Destination] will be delayed by about ten minutes. If you’re leaving the train at [Next Station] consider yourselves lucky because you won’t have to wait.”

(I have had strangers asking me for some spare change every single day when commuting. At first, I would always give some money I had to spare, but when people turned extremely rude and organised beggar-rings formed, I stopped doing so. I have a change of heart one day.)

Stranger: “Hey, you got some change? I only lack 60 cents for my train ticket. Only 60 cents, mister, please!”

(He is standing next to the ticket machines, so I give him the benefit of the doubt.)

Me: *hands him one Euro* “There you go…”

(I then go to a local bakery to grab a bite. When I return to the train station 15 minutes later, I see the same guy again, doing his spiel.)

Stranger: *walking up to random people* “Hey, man, I lack just 60 cents for my train ticket… You can spare 60 cents, can´t you?”

(He then sees me. His eyes are locked on me. I can see gears moving in his brain. Then, suddenly:)

Stranger: *to me* “Hey man, you can spare 60 cents. I need 60 cents for my train ticket. Please, I really need that ticket!”

Me: *speechless*

(I live and study in Strasbourg, France and am interning in a lab in Karlsruhe, Germany. I take the public transportation and have a long commute every day, which I use to study, out of personal interest, foreign language books. One evening, halfway on my way back home, I’m working on my Italian book when two middle-aged Spanish tourists sit across from me.)

Spanish Tourist #1: *in Spanish* “Oh, so you speak Italian?”

Me: *in running-on-automatic German* “Well, not yet, but I’m still learning.”

(It dawns on me when they exchange puzzled looks. I laugh.)

Me: *in broken Spanish* “Oops, sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I meant…”

(I hesitate. I don’t want to seem rude but I never learned Spanish formally then and even though I understood them, it’s difficult to work out an answer. The other tourist helps me out in French:)

Spanish Tourist #2: “We speak English, if you want. Very little French and Italian though.”

Me: *relieved, in English* “Oh, great. I mean, I’m sorry, I just need to adjust. I’m French; I spoke German all day long and am learning Italian so I guess I’m a little confused.”

Spanish Tourist #1: *in Spanish* “Understandable. So you’re…” *in French* “…from this region, right? We’re…” *in English* “…sightseeing there. What do you recommend?”

(Cue a discussion about Strasbourg, their hometown Seville, my travels and theirs, and Europe in general in the most ridiculous Babel discussion ever, during which my poor brain provides sentences in complete chaos during 20 minutes.)

Me: *in Spanish* “I like to be…” *in Portuguese* “…working…” *Spanish* “…and traveling…” *Italian* “…in different…” *Spanish* “…places. It’s…” *Italian* “…always…” *English* “…enlightening and I…” *slip back in German, then repeat in French* “…like changing decors every once in a while.”

(By the time the train arrived in Strasbourg and we parted ways, I had both a full-blown migraine and a huge grin across my face. Four years have passed and I still laugh. I still haven’t been to Seville.)

(I had dropped my wallet, including ID, bus pass, debit card, etc. on the bus. After searching my apartment top to bottom, I call the bus depot, and am told they have it. With no bus pass or method to access my money, I have to beg a ride from a neighbor. When I finally arrive at the depot, they are about 10 minutes from closing the help desk windows.)

Me: “Excuse me, but I was told my wallet was here. Could you please help me?”

Worker: “We’re closing.”

Me: “Yes, I know, in 10 minutes. I just need to pick up my wallet, please. It’s black, bi-fold.” *I list a few other notable features, including the fact that my ID, is in there*

Worker: *heavy sigh, holds out her hand* “ID?”

Me: “It’s in the wallet.”

Worker: “No, I need you to show me your ID, so I can go find your wallet.”

Me: “My name is [My Name], and my ID is In the wallet that I’m here to retrieve.”

Worker: “I can’t give you anything out of Lost & Found without an ID. Go home and get it.”

Me: “You’re not listening. My ID isn’t at home, it is IN the wallet, in YOUR Lost & Found.”

Worker: “Look, it’s a security issue. I can’t just go handing out our Lost & Found to anyone who asks. I need your ID.”

Me: “Then go get it! You have it, not me!”

Worker: *finally looks away from her computer screen* “Excuse me?”

Me: “I’m here to get my WALLET, which contains my ID. You have both those things in your Lost & Found. I already called and checked earlier. I confirmed that my wallet was turned in by the driver of the bus I ride every day. His name’s [Name]. So can you please go get the wallet, check the ID in it, and then give it back to me?”

Worker: “But you need to show me your ID! How do I know you are who you say you are without your ID?”

Me: “You ALREADY HAVE my ID! It’s in YOUR Lost & Found!”

Worker: “But how do I know it’s YOUR ID? You could be anybody, just claiming the wallet is yours.”

Me: “The picture on my driver’s license is less than two years old. My military ID is even newer. You should have no problem telling it’s me. What’s more, I can tell you exactly what’s in the wallet, and exactly where everything is.”

Worker: “Look, no ID, no wallet. I won’t break the rules. And besides, we’re closing. Come back tomorrow with your ID and get it then.”

Me: *finally realizing there’s no getting through to her, I place my hands flat on the ledge* “Could you please go get your manager?”

Worker: “Fine, but she’s just going to tell you to go get your ID!”

(It takes a few minutes for her to get the manager, which is surprising, since the entire building is less than 25’X15′.)

Manager: “I understand you have a problem with our Lost & Found procedures.”

Me: “Not at all. I called earlier, and was told my wallet was here. I’d like to pick it up, please. My ID is in the wallet, along with [the rest of the contents]. It’s a black, bi-fold wallet.”

Manager: “Yes, I’m the one you spoke to earlier. Let me go get that.” *walks off to the Lost & Found, followed by the worker*

Worker: “But she doesn’t have her ID! We can’t give her anything from the Lost & Found with her ID!”

Manager: “Are you thick? Her ID is RIGHT HERE!” *she opens my wallet, revealing my ID*

Worker: *snatches my wallet, stomps over to the window, and stare – more like glares – back and forth between my and the ID for a good long while*

Manager: “Oh, for pity’s sake!” *takes the wallet from the worker, and slides it through the window’s access port* “Here’s your wallet, Miss [My Name]. Sorry for the inconvenience!”

Me: *just glad the whole ordeal is finally over* “THANK you! Really. Have a nice day.”

Manager: “You, too.”

Worker: *hollering as I walk away* “Next time, BRING YOUR ID!”