mesdammes, messieurs, dans quelques instants _____

Requisite transportation fiasco story in short:

Trains to Paris, Belgium, etc. = great
Trains to nearby little blinkandyoumissit towns = disaster

So I was trying to go to Noyon to visit some other assistants, and to get there you take a train in the direction of either Compeigne or St. Quentin, but transfer in Terignier. I bought a ticket to Noyon leaving at 17h33, and encountered my first problem. Should I take the 17h33 to Compeigne or the 17h33 to St. Quentin? These kind of moments always remind me of those “choose your own adventure” books…do I take train A (turn to page 16) or train B (sorry you’ve just been eaten by a giant squid, start over!) After a flurry of text messages I decided Compeigne, but being the savvy train traveler I am, I made sure to check the monitor to see if it TERIGNIER was among its stops. It was not! After consulting with a man in the help booth, I hopped on the train to St. Quentin and it left immediately. A bit disconcerting because it wasn’t 17h33. It was 17h15. Enter that altogether too-familiar pull of opposing gravitational forces as the express train reaches its full velocity while my stomach sinks all the way down to my shoes as I realize once again

I’M ON THE WRONG TRAIN.

But then again this happens a lot. Next step is to find the controller (before he can find me) and beg his mercy. Usually he sits in the very back, but he wasn’t there. Lurched all the way to the car in front (much to the annoyance of the people in first class) and still no controller! I could see the driver through the window but figured I probably shouldn’t knock. Went back to my original seat. Eyebrows were raised around the cabin. What would the bewildered foreigner do next? Being the savvy IhavenocluewhatI’mdoingorwhereexactlyI’mgoingbutdadgummitI’mgonna-
getthere traveler I am, I knew just what to do. Clueless female with a map act. Works every time! I had that sucker out for only about 30 sec and was only at the mildly perplexed stage when the previously quiet, introspective guy next to me interrupted. Did I need help?

Well, oddly enough…

A few minutes later I had my new itinerary for getting to Noyon figured out (in fact he was a SNCF train employee) leaving me a whole hour to chat. He gave me a nice, candid run-down of all the regions of France (only cows – that’s beautiful – Corsican mafia, you’ll get shot) and also marched me to the ticket machine in St. Quentin and made sure I got the right ticket for the right destination. Which I could have very well done myself, I might add, had I had to. Ah, clueless female with a map act, you’re making me lazy.

The two hour stopover in St. Quentin was long enough for me to realize that St. Quentin is sketch. Sat down on a bench and began to notice a horrible smell, due to a guy who out of boredom I guess was toasting his thumb with a lighter. Sought refuge in the only other open seat, hidden in the recesses of the vending machines. There was a guy at the hot beverage machine that was making me nervous, taking a good 15 min to put his coins in, all the while furtively texting people and peering out the window, pulling off a drug deal no doubt. I stopped minding though when I saw the crazy homeless prophesying man doing wide gesticulating circles on the other side of him.

Finally, after two hours, I had was ready to hop on the train in the direction of Paris, Noyon being a stop along the way…for one of the trains. I opted not for the 19h56 (sorry, your tether to the spaceship has snapped and you are eventually consumed by the fiery atmosphere of the planet X’nBer oh please tell me someone else remembers these books!) but the 20h: You get on the train and find every car is deserted. You sit alone under the flickering fluorescent lights, it’s so silent and eerie you actually would prefer the company of a sketchy St. Quentin guy to this strange solitude. Then one walks into your car and sits down, facing you. And another. And another. You suddenly realize just how much you like solitude. Do you: 1. Go to the WC (waiting until the train starts moving and resisting the urge to show St. Quentin excatly what you think of it) or 2. Flee upstairs.

How about all of the above? Fortunately Noyon was only a few minutes away and soon I was happily greeting my fellow assistants at the station. Fin.

Oh yeah, the party was fun, too :)