Tuesday, July 12, 2016

a funny thing happened on the way to the ferry: an unfinished essay

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.”

In truth, the words sounded far lovelier than I have written them, but they were meaningless to my American ears. I would have had trouble understanding them even if I had been able to comprehend French. All words are more difficult to understand over a train intercom.

As beautiful as the train intercom French sounded, the other passengers’ groans and grumbles told me the actual message was less than romantic. It probably explained why the train had stopped. It probably explained why we were just sitting there, only kilometers from the ferry terminal at Le Havre with less than an hour before the ferry –my ferry! –was due to leave for Ireland. It probably explained why I was in danger of being stranded with little pocket change in a place where I did not speak the language and had no one I could turn to for help.

The year was 1994. Back in the 20th Century, I was younger and full of the hubris that being younger brings. We had been given a short break from studies at University College Dublin, where I was ostensibly attending a semester’s worth of courses, although in truth I think I spent more time in the pub and at parties than in class. What does one do when in Europe with nothing to do and no sense of what anything costs because they use different currencies (plural in the pre-Euro era)? Why, travel, of course!

My friend Barbara had come over from the States to join me and my new friend, David, on a continental jaunt. We all flew from Dublin to Paris together (how grand!) to meet up with a fellow resident of Dublin student housing, Marie, who picked us up at the airport. We spent some days in Paris sightseeing before taking the TGV to Lyon, where a couple of French classmates of David’s met us. From there, Barbara and I continued onto Geneva, where she had family friends who gave us a place to stay. Venice. Munich. In those places, Barbara and I stayed in hostels and we traveled by train. It was all very Before Sunrise. In Germany, Barbara and I split up –her to fly home, and me to work my way back to Ireland via ferry. In order to work my way back to Ireland by ferry, I had to take a series of trains that led me toward Le Havre.

It was on that last train –just kilometers away from the ferry –that disaster struck. Many people have experienced worse disasters during their travels. I did not know this at the time. All I knew was that I was extremely confused and a little concerned. Concern turned to panic when another mysterious pronouncement came over the loudspeaker.  The words themselves were not frightening –they didn’t mean anything to me. No, the scary part was when the grumbling French-speaking passengers walked off the train. Wait! Don’t leave! What would I do if I missed that ferry? I had no money to pay for a place to stay. I had no money to pay for anything --only centimes! I reluctantly followed the crowd off of the train because what else could I do?  

We were herded toward a parking lot. I hyperventilated as we stopped there –and stayed stopped there for what felt like hours. No one moved from that spot. They just stood there and spoke French to one another. “Why did I study German and Spanish?” I thought to myself in English. 

. . .


This is where the essay stops. What do you think happened next? This is a true story, and I am still alive, but get creative. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

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