Sometimes You're the Windshield — A Happy Encounter with the Department of Police for Foreigners

The cool logo of the Department of Police for Foreigners

It turns out that the company shipping all my stuff from Tucson to Prague needs a bunch of information from me, including proof that I am registered here. As every foreigner who plans to stay in Prague for more than three days is required to register with the police, so I took care of that my first week here, right?

Well, I never got around to it, and I had sort of just decided to wait until I moved here officially, after receiving the Business visa. ("Officially," of course, being an interesting term, as what would make my move "official" is me registering with the police, so it's not actually "officialness" I was waiting for).

Anyway, as the shipping company requires proof-of-registration before moving forward, I had no option but to head down to the local police station at which such registrations are done — fortunately, only three tram stops from my place. I could have done so yesterday, but the website I looked at recommended going early to beat the lines, and so I decided to wait until this morning.

Pretty much all the trams at my local "Viktoria Zizkov" tram stop go directly to the stop near the police station, so I got on the first one that came and headed off. Of course, it turned out to be the one tram that didn't go that direction, and eventually turned off the line and headed blocks to the West. Sighing at the inevitability of my life, I got off at the first opportunity — at the Flora mall ̈— and retraced its route, then turning right and getting to the police station about 5 minutes before it opened.

The Brutalist

This is already a long post than the act required. I got in, was given a number by a police officer helpfully standing next to the number-giving machine, and was called to a window in about two minutes. I explained to the nice policeman who helped me that I needed to register, and told him I knew I would have to pay the 3000-crown (about $125) late fee. He took my information, even apologizing (twice!) about the late fee, explaining that he was not responsible for it and that it was mandatory, and went back to his desk and computer.

Not too Kafka-esque, actually

After about three minutes he came back and told me it was my lucky day, because it turns out my landlord had registered me when I signed the lease, so I not need to register at all — and no fee of any kind, late or otherwise, was necessary.

And that was it. I went home, an unexpected $125 burning a hole in my pocket.

Just ... even when you imagine a friendly policeman in the US, do you imagine him apologizing to you, twice, that he needs to charge you a mandatory penalty because you purposefully delayed complying with the law? Imagine, for instance, an immigrant in the US failing to notify the authorities of his presence. Now imagine those authorities apologizing for the inconvenience.

Image — I'm not kidding — from www.policechiefmagazine.org

Sometimes, this place is really charming.