You know in a good story there is almost always a heroine who gets into trouble. Most often circumstances beyond her control manage to put her into uncomfortable and trying--sometimes even dangerous--situations. We cry with her, we feel for her, we cheer for her when either she is rescued or manages to save herself.
It's a classic scene in the movies--a girl and a boy are separated by a closing train door. The cruel hand of fate reaches in and tears them apart. Enough already, right? Just stop the train. Get the conductor. Pull the emergency cord. Well, I can now say from personal experience that the train doors close quickly, and they don’t open once the train starts to move. The conductor? He’s railcars away and he won’t stop the train for you, anyway. The emergency cord? It doesn’t do a thing--comforting, right?
But, this story needs to be told from the beginning. At least the beginning of the day. I was pretty exhausted after several days of busy sightseeing. I really just wanted to spend the day in bed, reading. Maybe get a massage. I know, I know. Many of you will say, “Why waste your time in Europe?!? The opportunity doesn’t come around very often.” I only reply that I am a quiet person who requires pockets of quiet time here and there. To each his own, right?
Yesterday, Jeff mentioned using our EuroRail passes to really see the country, and maybe pop into Liechtenstein and Austria, as well. I gave up my rest day--actually a little excited to go to places we hadn’t originally planned to see this trip. The day started fine. Jeff had gotten up early to make the travel arrangements and let me sleep in as long as possible. I hurriedly dressed, ate a quick breakfast, and made it to the train station in time to meet him there. We boarded the train to Zurich, passing through Lausanne and Bern. It was very lovely. Mountains, lakes, picturesque villages, and vineyards combined to form a truly enchanting sightseeing experience.
In Zurich, we stopped to eat lunch at a place we heard good things about. The chicken cordon bleu was delicious. The first problem arrived when we found out--after we had already eaten--that the restaurant did not accept credit cards. Uh-oh. We only had a total of two hours in Zurich before it would be time to leave to visit Liechtenstein and Austria. We had already taken an hour of that time to walk and eat. It took a half an hour for Jeff to find a place that would exchange our American dollars for euros/swiss francs (?). Once we had paid for our lunch, Jeff wanted to make a quick trip to see a famous church. I would normally love that, but we only had 30 minutes to catch the train. I am very much a “planning” sort of person. My husband is a “go with the flow”/”fly by the seat of his pants” kind of person. I ended up, grumpily, following him to the church. My feet were sore already, and once we made the trek to the church Jeff wanted to take the time to climb the steps to the tower. Easy right? Short answer, wrong. After, no lie, about 14 flights of very steep steps my legs and feet were screaming. How bad was it? I said “hell”-- in a
church--and I don’t even cuss. We hurried back and just managed to catch our train.
Once in Sargans, Jeff found a taxi driver to take us into Liechtenstein. It is a charming country and during a short shopping break I managed to find a kitschy apron for my collection.
We then traveled to Austria where we planned on eating a wonderful, highly rated Weinersnitchel dinner. After arriving in the town of Feldkirch, though, we discovered that the restaurant was closed on Mondays (not terribly unusual with nice restaurants). This was very disappointing. We were really interested in trying that traditional dish in Austria. After a shortened visit, we managed to find the train station to carry us back to Sargans. Once in Sargans, we hurried to catch our train. My feet and legs had already been killing me and I couldn’t keep up. Jeff had my bag, as well as his, so that we could move faster. He ran on ahead to hold the door to the train for me. Just as I was reaching it, he stepped further inside to make sure we were on the correct train. The door slid closed--literally--in my face. We both realized what had happened and after banging fruitlessly on the door the train started to move. Jeff was stuck on it and tried to get it to stop--even resorting to pulling the emergency cord-- to no avail.
I was numb. Frustrated. Angry. My feet hurt. With dread, I realized that not only were we separated, but my bag was with Jeff. So there I was, at about 8 at night, stuck in Sargans with no passport, no money, no rail pass, no credit cards, and no phone. To add insult to injury, I really had to pee and I did not have the change to use the restroom (see previous post). I literally felt like a heroine. No, not the heroine in the end of the story with a glorious conclusion, but the heroine in the beginning of the story when her whole world comes crashing down around her.
What was I to do? Jeff was on an express train (no stops) to Zurich and I was stuck in Sargans. Sargans is in part of Switzerland that isn’t terribly touristy--so unlike Geneva, there weren’t many English speakers at all. I literally sat down on a bench in the open train station there and cried. My jacket was in my bag with Jeff, and so as the night darkened and it got chillier and chillier I was only more and more uncomfortable in my cap-sleeved (but quite stylish) cowl-necked blouse. Then, it started to rain. Really??? Were the screenwriters in the sky conspiring to create this pitiful situation? It sure felt like it. I found a phone booth and tried to make a collect call to Jeff’s cell phone. However, they do not allow collect calls to be made to cell phones. I couldn’t remember the account number, security code, and expiration date of any of the credit cards in my bag, so I wasn’t able to use them to call him.
After about an hour and a half an older man asked me what was wrong. He couldn’t speak English, so he led me into a convenience store where a lady who worked there spoke English. I explained the situation to her, and she managed to call Jeff. She found another train heading to Zurich. I hopped on it, not realizing before it was too late that it did go to Zurich--just in a round about way requiring a train change. Eventually, I made it back to Zurich and Jeff who was there waiting for me. Unfortunately, the last train to Geneva had already left. We were stranded in Zurich. Jeff managed to find a hotel right by the train station for us to stay the night. So, I’m lying here in a hotel that I would be scared to death staying in alone, wishing we were in our very comfortable hotel (THAT IS ALREADY PAID FOR!!!) in Geneva; but, I guess beggars can't be choosers. I should count my blessings. I could still be stuck in Sargans with no money, no passport, no credit cards, and no phone. Somedays it just doesn’t pay to be the heroine in your own story.
P.S. I must say how glad I was to have Jeff waiting for me at the Zurich train station. He had bought me a grilled meat wrap for dinner, as well as several drinks and pastries. I still feel a little bit in denial that all this happened to me. But, in the famous words of Scarlett O’Hara, “tomorrow is another day!”
