#6 tram

Had to make an emergency run up to Lviv the other day to meet a bus with another packet of mail and misc stuff. So, I got to ride my all-time favorite #6 tram. Now, that's just a euphemism. Or an oxymoron. 'Favorite' and 'tram' don't really belong in the same neighborhood. Trams tend to be the cheapest form of transportation and as such, are jam-packed usually- and they tend to be full of...how shall we say it? 'low-end' types? hmmm? Well something like that. One of my very first life lessons in Lviv (which is the first Ukr'n city I ever lived in) took place on the tram. Trude was teaching and she didn't have time to shepherd me all over the place. Plus, I was, after all, 30 years old- like, Grow up and get a life- you can do this. Helllppppppppppp. I can't. Yes you can and you HAVE to. There are no options...unless you're going to hire a neighbor kid to be your escort or something (she didn't say that- I just thought of it). She showed me the route. My teacher came to our apt and took me back to her place so that I'd know the route. I bravely launch myself off of the high dive and into the pool of Ukrn humanity...and try hard not to sink. So, I have to take a tram up the hill to my bus stop. The #6 tram, in fact. The very first time I took it, I found out a horror of #6 trams: there are uniformed terrors called 'controllers' who are allowed to rove among the hapless passengers and demand to see their tickets. So, I just manage to squeeze myself onto the tram and I'm on the bottom step and am jammed in there like a sardine. One of thousands of sardines. Two stops later, here comes a controller-animal. Well, I haven't seen hide nor hair of a conductor and I sure don't have a ticket. I had to ride that awful tram clear to the end of the line trapped between 2 controller animals who were trying to make me understand that I had to pay a fine (then I felt like I was being assaulted- now I know that's just their manner). I finally did pay (and even got a receipt- T told me that meant I was really lucky since they had to turn that in and obviously it was official. That made a lot of sense to me, I can tell you). I never did manage to convey to them that I'd have been more than happy to buy a ticket had I had a chance. So, I learned to track that conductor like a bloodhound and demand a ticket. And I did. And I don't think I have yet to ride the #6 tram when I didn't have to show my ticket to a controller.

Which brings me to the present. That was 2000. Now it's 2008. On the tram. Buy my ticket. See several people pop their tickets into a funny little apparatus and punch their tickets. This is new. Idly, since I'm standing right by one of the gadgets, I do the same thing. Punch. Tap tap. Controller. Ticket? Yes, Sir, here it is. Fine. Moves on.

2 min later, Big... HUUUGGGGGGGGGEEEEEEEEEEEE commotion right behind me. 2 teeny-bopper girls. Fighting with the controller. 2 more controllers (all male) join the fray. After 5 mins of escalating altercation, I move to the front of the tram. And then it nearly broke out into a fist fight. The whole tram joined in. Shouting, yelling, screaming, bad words and stuff... and then the controllers took them chickens off that tram. Peace.

Get my pkg. Back on the #6 tram. Same story. Again. Yelling at passenger. Only 1 difference- this time the controller is a woman. She looks (come to think of it) like Hillary Clinton with black hair. And she's all business. And you know what, she handled that all by herself. And that puny wimpy little punk of a man who was trying to mess with her- never had a chance. Haha.

The un-funny part of this? It was nearly me. See, all these people had tickets! They just hadn't popped them into the puncher-thingy. I need to go now and try to get my blood pressure down again. I just hate it when they throw a curveball... and they do, they do... and you'd think they'd post a sign... something like "Dear #6 Tram Passengers. You now have to punch your ticket right here [arrow to puncher] or our thugs- umm, controllers- will relieve you of 15hr."



Here it is. Looks innocent, eh?
Here's the inside of it. You can even see the puncher-thingy by the window at the front left, just above that one grandpa's head.