La Polizia

La Polizia,

The Italians love their uniforms and considering the Italians’ contribution to world fashion, it’s no wonder. People in uniform in this country are both simultaneously sharp and scary. Cops in this county travel in packs of no less than three and it’s not uncommon to see five or more at one time. There are several layers of law enforcement around here. I quote from Bologna Inside (2^nd ed.) Everything You Need to Know to Make Bologna Home, by The International Women’s Forum of Bologna:

Memorize the following emergency numbers: 112 carabinieri (local police); 113 polizia (state police); If you want to report a disturbance such as noise, illegal activity or loitering, call the
vigili urbani (urban police) at 051.266626. If you call to report a loud party or other
minor public disturbance, the police may also stop by your house to hear your version of
events. The polizia municipale (city police) have an informative website in Italian for information on most safety issues.

So let’s see, that’s no less than four layers of law enforcement for the city alone. And don’t confuse La Polizia with the soldiers who are also around, or the specialty police forces like Guard di Financia. In fact, the only person who didn’t seem to get a uniform is the postman. I passed one the other day and thought he was just handing out menus for a local restaurant, but no, he was actually delivering the mail. I guess you don’t need much authority to do that.

Italians are so well dressed that you can imagine that their uniforms are pretty swank. They have fast looking pants with red stripes that tuck into their shiny boots, their shirts have lots of badges and labels on them, some of them get really cool looking hats. Their utility belts are often this white leather that makes such a clean line between the powder blue of their shirt and the black of their trousers, I can see why the fascists did so well here. Your basic peasant can class himself up quite a bit by slipping on a pair of jack-boots. If the Village People were Italian, disco would not be dead, of this I am sure.

The person in uniform who scares me the most is the train conductor. I’m rarely doing anything that would warrant the attention of anyone in uniform, except when I’m riding the rails. Conductors don’t have gun, but they do have this little hole puncher, which they wear in a holster on their belt like it’s a gun. When they approach you on the train you are seated and they are standing, which gives them the advantage. Then they ask you something in Italian, which you inevitably reply to in a way that tips your hand that you aren’t from around here. Then you hand them your ticket, which they don’t just look at and punch, but really look at. They look at the ticket, they look at you, they look at your ticket again. They raise one eyebrow. At this point, I’m usually pulling out my passport and wondering if I should slip a fifty Euro note in it. Then they pull out a pen (a pen!) and mark your ticket by hand, and finally they draw their hole puncher from their holster and punch your ticket, while simultaneously staring you in the eye, to make sure that you don’t morph into someone new as soon as he gives it the ok. The first few times it’s terrifying.

So in short, don’t mess with The Man no matter what costume he is wearing. He’s got the power and I am but a traveler in this land.

Note: It occurs to me that the current debate over school uniforms in America is misguided. Instead of having the students wear uniforms, maybe it should be the teachers. Except I’d want an Italian designer and some really fast looking pants.