On and Off the Train: A Panic Attack Waiting to Happen

Train travel itself isn’t bad. Taking the train from Paris to Florence was absolutely beautiful—cruising by small French towns beside deep blue lakes and autumnal mountains. The transitions are what cause enough stress to ruin your day and leave you completely exhausted by the end of it.

Because not only am I dragging myself onto the train, but myself and a huge backpack, which with the combined weight of my computer, large camera, books, journals, and whatever else won’t fit into my suitcase, adds about two feet of length to my body when I wear it on my back. Not only that, but I have my 50+ pounds suitcase to maneuver over the large gap between the platform and the train itself and then up the awkward stairs. We quickly learned that the best way to get over this hurdle was to toss our suitcases into the train ahead of us, then follow them up. Next, I had to fit myself down the thin aisles, backing up and dragging my suitcase sideways to find my seat, apologizing profusely to the innocent people I inevitably hit in the face with my backpack. Once I found my seat, I had to figure out a place to fit my suitcase—overhead compartment where I can keep an eye on it but where it may fall and kill someone, or in a storage place at the end of the car where it could be stolen? On the first train ride, we debated, while standing in all of the impatient French people’s way. A random Asian man appeared suddenly, and helped us hoist our impossibly heavy suitcases up into the overhead compartment. He then disappeared, out of our car, and we never saw him again. Train angel? Maybe.

Getting off the train is a whole other animal. First, we had to try and understand the voice on the overhead speakers, as it spoke in four different languages telling us which stop we were at. However, the voice happened to get quiet right when it mentioned the station, so we could hear, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be arriving at Genova Station in 5 minutes”, and just had to peer intently out the window to see the signs. Once we knew we were at our stop, the scrambling began again—get all pieces of oversized luggage to the door of the train without clocking anyone or getting in their way. Finally, I had to tackle the stairs again, learning quickly that to fit oneself, ones multiple handbags/backpacks, and ones suitcases out of the train door and down the steps all at once is disastrous and results in getting stuck. By the end of the day, I had it figured. Leaving the suitcase on the train right by the door, I move myself out of the train, down the steps, safely over the gap and onto the platform. Then reach back and hoist the dang thing to safety behind me.