Caitlin is such a sweetheart to me. After hosting me for the
weekend, showing me her town, even assisting me in buying some birthday
presents for Kate, she gave me a mattress comforter. Oh sweet heaven. I had “informed”
her of my bed situation in France and how much fun it was to wake up with a
sore back (or chest if I slept on my tummy) every day. Being a generous friend
she allowed me to borrow one of her mattress comforters in order to soften my
bed. Yay! I was so happy for this meant two things; one I would actually enjoy
sleeping in Le Havre, and two it meant I would have to visit Kaiserslautern again.
Sweet duo of sweetness.
However, I did have to carry the comforter throughout my
trip which wouldn’t have been so bad had my trains actually been correct. I hate
it when they cancel directs. I really hate it when three train switches are required
to go to Paris. I especially hate it when I have to dimly travel in a country
where I don’t speak the language. It’s always one word audience, let’s use its less severe cousin. CRAP!
Caitlin saved my bacon. She went to the reception desk and
had them print out the scheduled route of trains which I would have to take in
order to return to Paris. It was a series of misadventures; Kaiserslautern to
Saarbrucken to Strasbourg to Paris, and let’s not forget Le Havre at the end of
it all.
Never before have I been so scared of being stranded than
when I waited in the Saarbrucken train station. I didn’t have any means of communicating
either my family or Caitlin. I looked for some phone booths in case the need
would rise, none to be found. Tack on that my phone only works in France and was also dead.
My only comfort was my I-Pod, thank you Fun.
Obviously I made it home a-ok. It was nice having the comforter
with me when I was actually on the trains. Since we used a big trash bag to enable me to carry it, plus my New Yorker
shopping bag and fingerless gloves, I resembled a clean hobo. No one wants to
go near a hobo. That suited me just fine.
I also discovered that I enjoy a type of French sandwich.
Try as I might to resist it, I am adapting to my environments. Watch out
audience, soon I won’t floss my teeth or wash my hands ever again. Shiver, now
that’s scary.
Right, back to the sandwich. While running (hobbling with my
trash bag concealed comforter) through St. Lazare I realized I was hungry. Good
for me that they have perfectly positioned a grab-N-go shop right by the
platform alcove. Those sneaky business tycoons. Of course it was overpriced,
damn tycoons, but I was desperate for food. I grabbed a bottle of coke and eyed
the sandwich selection. All of them but one had cheese on them, bleh, so I
naturally took the non-cheesy sandwich. It was jambon buerre or ham and butter. The weirdest part is that I really
liked it. Damn, I now have a favorite French sandwich.
I made it to Le Havre three hours later than anticipated but
I did make it. Never before had I been so happy to see the two smokestacks by
the loading docks. Home is where the heart it and now home has a comfy sleep-zone.
Thank you Caitlin, my bed is finally worthy of the word bed! Also thanks for
the rad trip, I had a wicked time.
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