Funny trip to Spar

Last night was cold, grey and rainy. Nowadays it gets dark by 4:45 pm and the November weather isn't what I would call "morale boosting." I was very much looking forward to the family dinner that evening, and was planning on bringing a big big bottle of mineral water that I had had in my custody for quite some time. Sarah, however, asked if we could stop at the little grocery store on the corner, Spar, so she could pick up a bottle of wine to take over.

Sure, no problem.

Cradling my 1.5 liter mineral water, I delinquently followed Sarah and Amos through the entrance door and into the grocery store. It was only once I'd gone through the one-way carousel and paused for a moment did I realize what sort of situation I'd just gotten myself into. About three feet to my right is a mountainous pile of the exact same water bottles for 197 forints each. Great. And the only way out is through the two checkout lines around the other side of the store.

I quickly run through my options. More likely than not they'll make me pay for it, but I really, really don't want to pay for something that I've already bought. What if I stuffed it under my jacket-- would it look too much like I was trying to hide a telephone pole? I could go back out the front, except the door has no handle and the gate only goes one way; that's a bit of a problem. I know for sure though that there is no way in Hades I'll be able to explain to them that it was mine before I walked into the store; that's just not happening. So, I put it back under the crook of my arm and go to see what Sarah and Amos are up to, all the while talking to myself trying to figure out what I ought to do about this problematic situation.

Meanwhile, my ears pick up the pleasant voice inflections of English; I find Sarah and Amos chatting with two other American students who are also studying in Budapest. In this particular Spar, that's like hearing Bohemian Polka on DC 101. Anyways, I'm still trying to figure out what to do as I join them in line, lamenting this horrible fate that I'm going to have to pay for the water that I've already bought. On a whim, I decide to make an escape out the front, and signal Amos (who was waiting in line) to meet me at the door so I could get out. He, not being in possession of pre-purchased items carried into the store, met me around the other side with ease. Rather than make a scene of wedging myself through the gate that is only meant for people legitimately entering the store, I simply pass on the water bottle and resume my place in line with Sarah. I was glowing with pride at my successful water smuggling.

The icing on the cake was when Sarah went to pay for the bottle of wine. Until this point neither of us had had any issues regarding our "legality" to purchase alcohol; however, after the cashier scanned the wine, she looked at Sarah, raised her eyebrow a bit like a mother does when she's suspicious, and said a whole lot of Hungarian that neither one of us understood. The effect is similar to throwing marshmallows at someone-- it doesn't hurt, doesn't mean anything, and is oftentimes somewhat amusing. From the hodgepodge of "clucks" and "sh's" I managed to isolate the word "tizenyolc" which means 18. Putting everything together, I realized that Sarah was being carded and started cracking up at the notion; I've never heard of anyone getting carded here! The cashier was about as stone-faced as Mt. Rushmore throughout the ordeal, and suspiciously inspected Sarah's California driver's license before handing over the wine. I have no doubt in my mind that her thoughts were something along the lines of "crazy Americans..." but hey, we're here, and we're who we are. Not much Hungary can do about that!