Exquisite Formality - Police-Style

This is not meant to be funny. I give it here simply as an illustration of what a culturally aristocratic people the Poles are, even in situations like the following.

The scene is a railway waiting room near Zakopane, in the Tatry Mountains, Poland, 1 am, about four years ago. Force 8 gales have brought down power lines and there are no trains. The temperature outside is around -15c. It is crowded, the restaurant is open, has run out of food, but is doing a brisk trade in tea, coffee, soup, and vodka.

An old gentleman, not rich because his clothes are cheap, but elegantly and respectably dressed - and cheerfully drunk, is lying full length on a wooden bench. He is singing quietly to himself and from time to time waving a bottle and offering a swig to anyone so inclined. No one accepts his offer.

Two young policemen come in, gaunt-faced like Mr Putin, and therefore clearly new, and just off the normal very rigorous initial training course. They are very tall and wearing normal night patrol uniform - baggy padded blouson, baggy padded trousers, boots, all in black, and equipped with guns, tear gas, truncheon, and handcuffs.

They walk over to the tipsy man, and the following conversation ensues. I give the literal translation, not because I think it is funny, but because it illustrates the extreme formality of everyday discourse in Poland with people you do not know.

Policeman: Good evening O lord. Is everything in order?

Man: Good evening to the lords. Everthing is in order.

Pol. And has the lord been drinking alcohol?

Man: Yes, O lord, I've been to a wedding.

Pol. I ask the lord for his identity document.

Man. Here: the lords have it.

Pol. (returning document) Where is the lord going? Has the lord a ticket? Is the lord aware that it is illegal to be drunk in a public place?

Man: Mother of God! I know. But I was at a wedding. Here is my ticket. (hands them ticket. Reaches into his plastic bag, and produces a litre bottle of vodka) A bribe, perhaps?

Pol. (faces wreathed in benevolent smiles) We ask the lord to put the vodka away. We do not accept bribes. The lord must take care of himself and button up the lord's coat. It's cold. Goodnight to the lord. (exit policemen, desperately trying to keep straight faces.)

Pan = Mr
Pani = Miss or Mrs
Państwo = Ladies and Gentlemmen.

No, not really. God is Pan Bóg = Lord God, not Mr God. Anioł Pański = the Angel of the Lord, as in the Angelus. 

The same rules apply in all conversations, in shops, when asking directions, when talking to people who are not friends.

Not funny. Not quaint. Just beautiful.