La Justice

So we're on the Metro last night, going out to dinner, when these drunken meat-head americans all pile on to the same train. Now I would not claim that we are the perfect guests in this new land, but these guys were absolutley stereotypical: baseball hats, t-shirts, jeans, sneakers, loud, pushing. We all move away, hoping to avoid association.
As the train pulls away, they quiet down. Suddenly, one of them, obviously the most angry at the French for some reason, starts saying, "God Bless America." Panic runs through our
little expatriot group- please do not start this!
"GOD BLESS THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!"
He laughs with his friends, repeating his joke. No one on the train says anything, but you can feel the anger rising.
We reach our stop and, unfortunatly, they get off with us. They stumble around the platform a while, and finally one of them asks us which way to go to get out of the station.
They stumble ahead, and we pull back, trying to lookas French as possible (read: scowling).
But what do we find ahead? Un Contol! A line of uniformedofficers blocks the exit. The meatheads all get very quiet as they approach the line. We bunch up behind them, waiting
to pass through.
Two of them fumble through there coats and present their purple Metro tickets. Mais- qu'est qui passe- il y a une probleme? M. "God Bless America" does not have a valid ticket! Quelle domage!
"Ca, c'est la justice" I say to my friends, quietly.
The turnstile jumper continues to argue, in very poor English, that he bought his ticket and that is is still valid.
The officer just shakes his head.
"Ca, c'est la justice", he says, as he leads the American over to pay his fine.