Catching Trains

Prague-Dresden-Leipzig-Dresden-Prague
I’d like to think of myself as a good traveler, a knowledgeable traveler, a smart traveler. I’d like to think that I make the wise decisions that novice traveler would not. I’ve done my research. I’ve been around. I’m experienced. Or so I thought.

Then I went to Dresden.

I was staying with my American friends in Prague, but I figured as long as I’m in Europe, I may as well try to see some other friends of mine. I went to school in Denmark with a girl from Leipzig, Germany named Sybille. She and her boyfriend, Florian, came out to San Diego a few years ago on a trip around the world and we got the chance to hang out. So I thought it would be nice to see where they lived.

It was a four hour train ride with a transfer in Dresden.

Arriving in Dresden, I found my train bound for Leipzig and got there an hour or so later. My friends met me at the station and gave me the grand tour of their city. Florian made us waffles and pizza and Sybille took me to a big party at her university. The next afternoon we went to the lake and ate ice cream. It was really great seeing them.

My departure time was rapidly approaching and I feared that I would miss the train. But with minutes to spare they got me back to the station and I was again on my way to Dresden. This is where, I have to admit, I made an absolute rookie traveling error.

As Dresden approached, I got my backpack ready and lined up at the door to get out and change trains. Double-checking, I asked someone to make sure that this was Dresden, and they told me it was. I got off not paying attention to what train I had just been on or what platform it had arrived at. I walked downstairs to look at the departure board to see where my next train would be.

Then I started to panic a little.

Prague was not listed. Nor was the time of departure that was indicated on my ticket. Now, come to think of it, this didn’t look like the station I was in yesterday at all.

Now I was panicked.

I ran back the way I had come, but was completely turned around and couldn’t find my bearings or the platform I had just come from. By the time I did, the train was gone. I ran down to the ticket office and asked if anyone spoke English. The young man at the end said he did a little. I asked when the next train to the main Dresden station left and he said in a few minutes on platform seven.

I raced to the correct platform and urged the train to be early. It was a few minutes late. I had no idea how many stops before the main station, but I did know that I only had about 15 minutes before my train to Prague was scheduled to depart.

Some friendly Germans assured me that the next stop (which was five down the track) was the main station. As the doors opened, I jumped out and sprinted down the steps, recognized the station, found the platform number on the departure board (the track was the farthest one away, of course) and continued my sprint.

Arriving at the platform a sweaty mess, I was relieved to see that the train was still there. Releasing a sigh of relief, I pressed the button on the train to open the door. But it didn’t open. I pressed harder. I banged on it. I pleaded to anyone listening to open it. With my finger still pressing the button, the train pulled away, right on schedule. Curse their punctuality.

Defeated, embarrassed, and royally irritated, I kicked a garbage can and threw my hands up in despair probably to the amusement of all those in the train watching me.

Back again in the ticket office, they told me my ticket was still good for the next train that left two hours later.

I sat and read a book while the sweat dried in my clothes leaving a salty reminder that even the pros have an amateur moment now and again.

Two hours passed and I walked back to the platform with plenty of time to spare. I didn’t find the humor in it then, but I do now. This train was 25 minutes late.