I wasn't thrown in jail in Albania. My last adventure there may have carried some genuine risk of that. I was at the airport waiting for my flight to Rome. Of the $100 I had changed into leks, I had only been able to spend $70 in six days. So I was wondering what to do with my remaining 3000 leks. When there outside the entrance to the waiting room, next to a policeman, was the mechanical engineer's nice-looking, earnest friend, selling lapel pins. I greeted him as an old friend, and then asked him if he would change my remaining Albanian money back into dollars. He agreed, only as a friend, to do so, and we went, not so much around a corner from the policeman, as around a symbolic corner from the policeman, stepping far enough away that he could ignore us if he wanted to. But the man told me he only had a $100 bill, so I would have to give him $70 American in addition to the 3000 leks. We made the exchange, and I went into the waiting room.
Now my only worry was whether the bill was counterfeit. I took another $100 bill out of my pocket and examined the two closely, side by side. I couldn't see any differences, but I still wouldn't be comfortable until I had exchanged it for something else.
When I stepped up to the desk for passport control, the police officer said there was a $10 airport tax. ``Boing!!'' went an idea in my head. I gave him the $100 bill.
``Don't you have anything smaller?'' he asked.
``No,'' I lied.
He rubbed it hard to see if the ink would smear, as I watched nervously. Then he handed it to the cashier, who also rubbed hard to see if the ink would smear. I wasn't arrested. I was given $90 in change, my passport was stamped, and I passed into the international waiting room, where I had time for a cup of espresso before we were led out onto the runway to board the flight for Rome.