Many of you heard snippets of this story from my European trip this summer. Below you'll find the entire adventure.
September 2011
"You can turn your back on a man, but never turn your back on a train."
I took the night train from Copenhagen. I could have flown, it would have been cheaper and quicker, but I'd never done a long-haul train trip across Europe, and by all accounts it is the proper, traditional way to move about The Continent.
I was headed to my cousin's house a two-hour drive outside of Frankfurt to see his wife and five kids again before flying back to the States out of Paris. The trip itself was supposed to take around 14 hours altogether, but amazingly enough with only one transfer. That meant I had 12 hours on that night train to sleep, read and generally relax. I even had a compartment to myself for most of the trip, and managed to sleep through the four hours where I was not alone. Before I passed out I'd hopped off the train at a few stops to stretch my legs or have a smoke, always able to tell when the train was going to depart by the electronic sign on the platform, but never brave enough to let the train out of my sight just the same. I slept for a total of five hours, stretched out across three seats, cuddled into the tiny pillow and navy blue blanket I'd “borrowed” from Air Berlin on my flight over. (For the record, I
was planning on returning them when I flew home.) When we arrived in a station, the lack of motion would disturb my rest, though I generally just went right back to sawing logs a moment later. Sometimes the train would only pause for a minute or two, sometimes 20.
I finally roused myself at the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof, a station I have been through a few times. This was the second to last stop until my transfer to a little regional train, so I wanted to be awake and watch the sun rise over the German countryside in my private compartment for this last segment. The sign on the platform said the train wasn't leaving for another 20 minutes, and I knew there would be a bakery or two at the end of the platform. I took my purse but left the rest of my things sprawled out across my side of the compartment – laptop, pillow, blanket, snacks. My ukulele, rucksack and velvet fedora that a friend had given me last time I was in Frankfurt all sat in the luggage rack above my seat.
Bleary eyed I stumbled down the steep steps of the train and onto the platform. I wandered past a Deutschebahn employee who I'd seen at every stop. She was just lighting up her cigarette. I thought about asking when we were leaving, but the sign was there, plain as day, and my brain was still full of sleepy molasses. I successfully got myself a cup of tea, and was just pouring sugar into it when I heard a conductor's whistle. I started, got a brief rush of adrenaline, but them dismissed the thought – Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof is a huge station with lots of trains, and anyhow the sign on our platform said I should have plenty of time. Just the same I made the 15 second walk back to my platform in ten.
And when I returned to my platform? THERE WAS NO TRAIN THERE ANYMORE. I had not been gone five minutes. Gaping, I stood and stared at the gap where my train should be. Fortunately I'd had the good sense to bring my shoulder bag with me, which contained my wallet, phone and passport, but everything else – rucksack, computer, ukulele – were still on the missing train.
The rest of the story after the jump!
