What's 5 Euro, really?

I am gullible. I’m not afraid to tell you, because I’m well known for it. I may be a shrewd businesswoman, but if you stopped me on the street and told me that on the next block there was an elephant running loose, I would probably believe you—at least at first. It’s sad but it’s true.

I’ve always been like this. My first instinct is to believe. My own earnestness, I think, is a huge factor. I’ve never been one who plays with the truth, largely because it’s too much trouble. My friends who are better at that sort of thing enjoy watching my eyes grow wide as they tell me crazy stories that anyone else would see through in seconds. Eventually, I catch on. But I’m good for at least 2 minutes of fun, always.

I’m probably deluding myself, but I like to think that this defect in my personality is a little charming. It could speak to my fundamental faith in humanity rather than plain old stupidity…couldn’t it? Even as I get older and grow (slightly) more shrewd about the common con, I still end up erring on the side of credulity.

What happened to me yesterday is a perfect example. I was getting on a train in Milano, headed to Basel. A man stopped me, all out of breath. He was a well-dressed black man, who spoke English with an accent. He said he was from South Africa. He explained that he and his pregnant wife had been traveling for days (from Africa) and had purchased tickets that were incorrect. They were able to change them, but for a fee. They had all the money they needed except 20 Euro.

Are you smelling a con yet?

I sniffed the air, and smelled a con, too…but as quickly as I could form the words “I don’t have anything for you,” my mind flashed back to the time that I was traveling from Chicago to Belgium by way of Paris. In all the planning, I had mistakenly purchased a train ticket for the wrong day. When I arrived in Paris, my 100 Euro ticket to Bruges was invalid. Luckily, the train conductor let me slide and I rode for free.

Quickly on the heels of that recollection came another—a story that my friend Rebecca Carr told about being stranded somewhere in Europe (I forget the precise details) and having a man give her an unsolicited handful of cash to tide her over until she could get things straight.

People really do have crises, sometimes, I said to myself. Sure, this man is probably lying, but how much would it cost me to help him a little?

I had a 5 Euro bill leftover from my ridiculous shopping spree for wine and salami on my way out of Italy. I gave him the fiver, told him that was all I had and that I hoped he could find someone else to give him the rest. I wished him good luck and boarded the train.

End of the story, right?

Wrong. Would you believe that this man followed me into my train car to ask me 1) what my name was, 2) where I was going and 3) if we could “stay together and get to know each other”. I asked him pointedly, with my mouth dropped open in shock and horror, “What about your pregnant wife?” He looked startled only a millisecond before he recovered. “Oh, she is very tired.”

If I had a husband like that, I’d be tired too. I told him he was a disgrace and walked away.

Either way, it’s shameful. If he ran a con on me to get 5 Euro, it’s shameful. If he did in fact have a wife somewhere on the train and he was chatting me up 3 cars down, it’s shameful. I got to my seat, sat down, and looked out the window, pondering humanity. What did he intend to do, buy me a cup of coffee with the money I had given him??? I comforted myself with the thought that I had only been taken for a 5 Euro bill.

When I meet people like that, and invariably give them the benefit of a doubt that only I would have, I am tempted to regret my generous and trusting nature. I am aware that I end up looking the fool, now and then. But, I guess I’m okay with that.

At least I got a good story out of it, right?