We were on the right train, but we were at the back of it in car 36, and it splits in Salzburg... With that back end of the train staying put and the other (where we should have been sitting in car 26) moving onto Munich. This would most certainly prevent us from getting back to Munich and onto Paris.
And so begins the three minute train dash - please, if you have it, play Chariots of Fire now (especially if you have the version by Zamphyr). I am carrying a duffle, a large purse full of junk, and a suitcase. Paul has two big suitcases and his backpack. When I hear that we have to go to get on the right part of the train, I realize we have to go fast. And I grab everything and start heading out the train to run along side to jump back in. Paul stays in the train and tries to navigate from the inside. Just so you realize the train is parked at this point, so take that visual of me successfully catching a running train out of your mind. We are not in a movie; this is real life people!
Side bar on the visual associated with this:
In our cold, yet fashionable Euro Winter Wonderland, I am dressed for the occasion and for the weather. I have tights under my jeans, boots over my tights, a tank under a turtle neck, which is under a cashmere turtleneck, which is under a quilted coat with a very warm scarf. And I haven't really worked out since August, so running with luggage and all this clothing is not a pretty sight. Worse, stopping after running with luggage, and trying to lift said baggage into the train while freaking out that you've abandoned your husband officially dismisses me of all cool euroness that I might have just picked up in inklings along our journey thus far. I'm arriving in a train car completely out of breath, sweaty, irrational, and I can't describe how opposite of that everyone else was around me. Chalk me up to being a super tourist today.
So my logic is that since the trains are linked, they most certainly connect inside. I figure we will meet up. Knowing that I have a little less stuff, I rush to get to car 26. Genius that I am, my thought was that thought if only I can wait at this door until Paul pops out of the car behind me, we can link him back in at this car, no problem. Well, if you couldn't already tell, I'm not well-schooled in train logistics; they don't connect from the inside, and no one is going to let me wait for Paul. And as the conductor is waving me on, I'm being told we can figure it out at the next stop. And so Paul stayed on the back half of the train. Without a ticket. With no idea if I'm on the train too.
The train starts moving, and while I'm trying to remain somewhat calm and discuss the situation with the conductor, my phone rings. Of course, it's Paul. Rightfully so, it's the closest he has come to being truly upset with me. What a scene. Him feeling quite abandoned, and me feeling quite terrible that we aren't together, and we are both a little panicked. "Is your train moving?" "Yes! Is yours?" (mine is in front of his, so yes, it's moving - it's pulling your with it I hope!). "Are you on the train?" "Yes! are you?" "Yes, barely, but yes." So now what?!
Conductor Fritz to the rescue! Luckily at the next stop 15 minutes later we will be able to get Paul to the front of his train half and over to ours. Our Conductor has also called the other ticket checker to let him know that Paul won't have a ticket. Let's say that Conductor Fritz was less than impressed, and we are totally lame tourists, but whatever, the problem will be solved. So what's a girl to do but order some sparkling wine that she can't pay for because her hubs has all the cash on him?
That was probably a bit more salt in the wound than needed, "honey, while you were dealing with the stress of potentially missing our train, I ordered something a little bubbly to soothe my nerves." But all's well that ends well, and Paul is now quasi relaxed, sitting in front of me, watching Game of a Thrones in he right car on the right train and contemplating how he can make my death look like an accident.
Cheers!
KC
UPDATE: Paul has offered me some of his sandwich. He took the first bite, so I think it should be safe... Only time will tell if this is a token of peace or a gift of war paired with the hope of a choking incident.
Also, it's hard to tell from the pictures below, but everything has a lovely dusting of snow on it right now, which is different from when we were headed toward Vienna. Very beautiful. I could die peacefully here if Paul chooses.
UPDATE TWO: I may have quelled the anger of my husband by getting him some pretzel sticks... Hopefully this puts him on a path to recovery. I got myself a second mini bottle of sparkling wine, so even if it doesn't completely erase his fierce frustration with his wife, I'll be in my own happy weinland!
Cheers again!
Frohes neues Jahr, Littlefields!
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