What a trip!!!
Seriously, that was crazy guys. I was told by 4 different travel agencies that there was no way for me to get out of Europe this week. I interrupted them by doing it in less than 30 hours.
It all started on Thursday when I learned that my father had been involved in a pedestrian vs. automobile accident and was not doing well. I called Delta on Friday and attempted to book a flight back to my American home.
It was then that I learned I had the "Bad News Fairy" as a new roommate.
Thank you volcano, I appreciate that, really.
No flights out until Monday morning. No problem, schedule one out at 1100.
Because I am a very frequent flier, and I hate those people who hold up the lines in airports for no apparent reason, as soon as I wake up Monday I jump online to check in to the flight. Damn Fairy is still here. Flight cancelled. Adventure begins.
Four hours on the phone with Delta going over every single airport and flight they have operating in Southern Europe and Northern Africa. Nothing. I call Lufthansa, they are not operating at all. Call Delta back because I hear that Spain has just opened up. They finally tell me they have an available seat on something flying out of Madrid. I really hope that I can find a way to explain to my neighbors why I shouted "I"LL TAKE IT!!!!!" at about force 20. So flight booked for Tuesday @ 1245.
Now remember, this is at about 1030 - 1100.
I jump on the DeutscheBahn (German train system for my American readers) Website and see that they have a train route that goes to Madrid via Paris that leaves @ 1254. Cram stuff in bag, out the door, down to Hauptbahnhof (Main Station for my American readers).
Damn Fairy. All trains to Madrid booked until Thursday.
Now, me being who I am, with the attitude I have, this is not an acceptable situation. I know for a fact that there is a train leaving for Madrid in approximately 1.5 hours. I also know that I need to be on that train. Not want, not prefer, NEED.
Time to make it happen.
"So," I ask in my sweetest voice, "got anything going to Paris sooner than that?" All I am hoping is that sweetness is understood through the language / accent barrier. It is, to an extent.
"Sir, we have something leaving at 1854."
Quick mental calculation: Train leaving Stuttgart at 1854 has exactly 0% chance of reaching Paris, France by 1947, which is what time the only train to Madrid is leaving.
Almost as quick mental realization: This ticket is the only thing I can buy from this counter until Thursday or so.
"I'll take it!" Only about force 5 or so. I am in public at this point and there are Polizei (Police for my American readers) holding firearms very close to where I am standing. I doubt they would take very kindly to me shouting.
So, having procured a ticket to one of my desired destinations, I move toward the tracks. I get the idea to try to buy someone's ticket on the 1254 train using my ticket and 100Euro. No takers.
However, one person reminds me of the fact that tickets are good for the day and destination of travel, independent of time of day. Now I have used this when I miss a train, but never to get on an earlier train before. But what the heck, I need to be on that train. So I get on the early train and start off towards Paris.
I get to Strasbourg when the conductor comes up to me with someone who I had noticed looking at me a few minutes earlier. After the obligatory "Sprachen zie Englisch?" ("Do you speak English?" for my American Readers) It is determined that I am in the other gentleman's seat. Oh dear, what a mistake on my part. I seem to be on the wrong train entirely. After explaining my mistake to the conductor, "Sir, I said I needed a ticket on the next train to Paris, I thought this was it." and telling the gentleman that of course it was my mistake and of course he can have the seat he reserved, no problem at all, I move to the on-board bistro car. Which is fine with me, I was getting tired of walking to that car everytime I wanted a bier (beer for my American readers) anyway. No more problems on this train, and we arrive in Paris at about 1630. Plenty of time to make my, as of yet non-existent, connection to Madrid at 1947.
First thing I notice about the train station in Paris: It is directly across the street from the bridge Liam Neeson jumps off of onto the boat for the final fight scenes of Taken.
Second thing I notice: They are a little bit tighter with their ticket controls and who gets onto the tracks then they are in Stuttgart. So the same "Later ticket/Early train" trick is not going to work.
Hmm...this is going to take some thinking and planning. I plan much better while eating and drinking. And this being Paris and all, there are outdoor cafes everywhere. Perfect.
While enjoying a Parisian sandwich and a really nice Bordeaux, I notice one of the ticket checkers appears to be in his early 20's and has that "Broke College Student" look about him. Perfect.
50Euro later I am by the tracks. Fast forward through another sandwich and glass of wine......
Train to Madrid pulls in, I still have not been able to procure a ticket for the train, but I know that if I can just get on the train, I will be able to buy a ticket from the conductor.
Damn Fairy. Due to the high volume of travelers, they have set up another ticket checkpoint before boarding the train.
I know the Slip 'em a 50 trick is not going to work, because there are too many people around. Time for my next trick. Pulling out my ticket from Stuttgart to Paris, I walk up to the checker that appears to be the least intelligent. I know it sounds mean to say that, but seriously, one look at this person and you just know they needed help getting dressed in the mornings.
"Parley-vous Inglais?" ("Sprachen zie Englisch?" for my German readers. "Do you speak English?" for my American readers.)
As hoped, the answer was no, and they pointed me towards their colleague who is conveinently located closest to the train.
A little backstory: When I was in High School, I perfected something I called the "Study Hall Escape" Basically how this worked was waiting for the study hall monitor to be distracted, then quietly slipping into the hall, and walking out the door like I had permission to. The hardest part was getting out the door in the first place.
I was now "Out the door".
I walk in the first open door of the train and start walking towards the back. After going far enough back that most people have boarded, and making sure that I am in a second class sleeper car, I enter the first cabin I see that only has one person in it. When the conductor comes around to check tickets, I explain that in Paris they told me I could buy the ticket on the train. Once again I am asked to move to the bistro car. Fine with me, again, this is where they keep the beer.
Conductor comes around, 161 Euro for the cabin I was in earlier, as there is an open space there. Fine with me.
Go back to the car, introduce myself to the two people I am going to be riding with for the next 13 hours. Talk for a bit, eventually fall asleep.
Wake up earlier than either of my cabin-mates and not wanting to disturb them I go back to the bistro car for a coffee and some toast. Having sat there for a couple of hours the night before, I am already acquainted with the lady running it and strike up a little conversation with her.
Damn Fairy. Train is going to be 2 hours late getting into Madrid.
Now, original arrival time was 0850 giving me plenty of time to take the metro from the station to the airport, check in, get something to eat, and get on my plane relaxed and refreshed. 1050 means I am going to have to take a cab, hope I can get checked-in on time, rush through security, and run to the plane.
As my cabin-mates wake up, I let them know what is going on. One of them, who is a surgeon from Mexico City, explains that the train station is not far from the airport and I SHOULD have plenty of time.
Train pulls into Madrid at 1115. I am thinking there is no way I am going to make it to the airport in time. After all this, I am going to be screwed by a late train. Something completely out of my control. Then I hear in lightly accented English, "Hey Doug, want to split a cab to the airport?"
It is my surgeon friend from the train.
"Sure."
Now, most of you who will be reading this know me pretty well, and you know that while I have "survival" level in 3 or 4 languages, I am not conversational in any of them. So to me the conversation sounded like this:
Surgeon: "Spanish. Spanish, spanish, spanish. Spanish."
Driver: "Spanish?"
Surgeon: "Spanish, spanish spanish, spanish. Spanish."
Driver: "Spanish? Spanish."
Surgeon: "Si." (Ja for my German readers. Yes for my American readers.)
30 minutes later I am at the airport.
We drove so freakin fast through the streets of Madrid that damn Fairy finally got lost.
No line at the check-in counter. No line at security. Plane not even boarding yet. I actually have an hour to spare by the time I get to the gate.
Smoke a couple of cigarettes, have a cerveza(Bier for my German readers, Beer for my American readers.), and get on the plane.
Total time of travel: 23 hours. Add another 10 on the plane, and I did three countries in not as many days, against a tight deadline that travel professionals at 4 different companies had told me was impossible.
Not bad for a "Stupid American".
