Rules Are Rules

Most would consider me an extremely rule-oriented person. I generally wait for the green walking person to appear before crossing the street. I pay my exorbitant Chicago Parking tickets when I forget about street cleaning. I never cheat while playing Barbie Uno. But I've been thinking a lot about rules lately-who gets to make them and who gets to break them.
A few weeks ago, on a 20 hour train ride in the Ukraine during which the train compartment was heated to at least 95 degrees, we tried to beat the heat and forget about the fact that we were on a 20 hour train ride in the Ukraine by imbibing a few cold ones. About one hour into the 20,we were sternly informed by the train police that, as of February, drinking was strictly prohibited on Ukrainian trains. So imagine our confusion when not ten minutes later, the train stewardess herself came along to sell us beer. It turns out that the rules are only enforced if you BYOB; as long as the train workers are making money, we were free to drink up.
On a rickety old bus in Romania, the seventy-something-year-old driver sat puffing away on his cigarette directly under a large no smoking sign.
In Moldova, we visited Transdniester, an entire section of the country that decided to separate, set up its own government, and issue its own currency. Despite the fact that no one besides Abkhazia and South Ossetia (both unrecognized countries themselves) recognize Transdniester's existence as a nation, upon crossing the "border," we became subject to their rules, including, rumor has it, having to wear pants in public.(we had planned on doing so anyway)
The taxi ride across the Ukraine/Slovak border was so quick and hassle-free that I wasn't surprised when the driver, after we had crossed, admitted to us that he pays off the guards to make his trips fast and easy.
Now, I'm not so naive as to not realize that money affords a certain privilege that helps others turn a blind eye to the enforcement of rules. But the question for me remains: If I am conscious of what is going on, should I choose to participate? And how often is that privilege afforded me without me even realizing it, as a traveler, because I look like I have money to spend and at home because I look or speak or dress a certain way?
The disturbing news of Arizona's new immigration law has arrived from across the ocean, and I have tried to keep abreast of the developments there. Given the population with whom I work in Chicago, I am very interested in how these new rules will affect the immigrants across the country. The timing of the Arizona news strangely coincides with my own personal immigration woes here in Slovakia. At this point, I need to decide whether to follow the rules and leave Slovakia or stay illegally. Like most undocumented immigrants in the US, I don't have any intention of committing any crimes, cheating the system, or bothering anyone. In fact, I feel grateful to be here and have the opportunity to learn. I can only imagine the fear that would come with thinking that at any moment someone could disrupt your life with causeless deportation. Or worse yet, the anger and embarrassment that a citizen would feel when accused based on the way she looks or speaks.
I believe in following the rules, but I also believe in questioning them.