The Other Lesson

After my driving lesson, I chat with my instructor about a story about ticket fraud involving airport staff. 'Well,' he says, 'those airport guys are really scum. They all look like gangsters.' I visualize a bulky Dutch security guy with a crew cut and agree slightly.
But he continues, 'That's what you get with foreigners, they're just corrupt, regardless of where they're from: Africa, Marocco, Turkey.. Poland..' ('...USA, Germany, Australia?' I think.) 'It makes sense, too. Like under communism, if the baker had a bread and the bike seller had a bike, they would just trade... But that naturally leads to corruption.'
'Cheap bike', I think, but I say nothing.
'And then I hear on the news that the police needs to employ more immigrants...' He pauses. 'I'm not saying Dutch people can't be nasty. But differently', he concludes.

In the subway, I give the black man who checks my tickets the nicest smile I can manage while I consider the perks of emigration.