The Great Train Race

Otherwise titled “Why my problem with punctuality is in all actuality... a problem”

In the movie “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,” there is one particular scene that I always enjoy. The whole point of the movie is about the curiosity of time and how it effects our lives, and in this particular scene, Benjamin explains and the director beautifully portrays the sequence of events leading up to the accident which causes Cate Blanchet's character to be horrifically injured and therefore unable to continue her career as a ballerina. Each specific action in the series, down the nanosecond, contributes to what is essentially the car accident. Had one things been different, had the man stopped to order a second cup of coffee or someone had stopped to tie a shoe, the accident never would have happened, and her life would have been completely different.

Such was the case with me this morning when I had to catch a train at a specific time for the first time this trip to France. I am a habitually late person. Anyone who knows anything about me knows this one fact. I do not like to hurry, I do not like to rush... maybe it is the excitement of the adrenaline coursing through my body as I approach a deadline... whatever it is, it is not acceptable when there a train to catch.

Of course I had packed last night. Of course I had everything set out and a mind to simply throw it in my bag and head out the door. Of course I had set my alarm with extra time to spare, knowing I would hit the snooze at least once before I realized it was going off. And this was the beginning of my day.

My train was to depart at 5:52. What an ungodly hour to begin with. So I set my alarm for 4:00am. Of course, I wasn't conscious of the fact that my alarm was going off until 4:26. Then I decided that it was close enough to 4:30 that I should just lie in bed until then. At 4:34 I realized what a stupid idea this was, jumped out of bed, grabbed my shower things, and ran down the hall to get in the shower. I get in the shower, realize that I forgot a washcloth. Take the time to get one.

Out of the shower, I look at the clock, think I have enough time, but not too much. I decide to skip breakfast and throw it in my bag. Get dressed, look in the mirror. I decide to put on my mosturizer, mascara. Do I really need powder? No, I can do that on the train. Decide to comb my hair. Decide to stop, throw it in a bun. I can do that on the train. Look at the time again. As usual, I spent too much time on doing nothing. I am late.

I throw all the things I had set aside in the suitcase. Think I'm ready to leave. Notice I forgot my hair-drier. Decide to put it in my bag. More time spent. Go out in the hallway, have trouble with my lock – it takes a couple extra seconds to lock it. Decide to take the elevator instead of the stairs. Once I'm out of the building, I realize I've forgotten my gloves. Maybe. I decide to not turn around to get them. Walk fast, run every few steps. It's dark, no one can see. However, it's also uphill to the train station, and this is a girl who hasn't ran in probably two years.

I'm in sight of the station when I decide to check my phone... it says that it is 5:52. I know that my clock is about two minutes fast, so I take off running, but can't keep it up pulling the stupid suitcase. My shoes keep falling off from hitting the suitcase. I see there are two trains at the station. I pause a moment to make sure I am getting on the right platform, even though I know already which one it is. Almost there--- I just have to climb up, across, and then down a rather tall flight of stairs. At this point I can barely breathe. I swear I'm going to start working out after this.

As I'm descending the stairs, I hear a whistle, and I know what that means, so I launch myself down the stairs and sprint to the door. Completely out of breath, I reach the train door, closed, and frantically try to open it as the train starts moving. It takes me a moment to realize that there is a button to push to open the door, and in my limited experience with trains and trams and public transportation in general, I only know that you cannot get on a tram or subway once the doors have closed. But alas! The button worked, so I jumped onto the moving train, and as I stepped onto it, it lurched forward to gain speed. For a moment I thought I was going to be thrown from the train, but luckily I was able to hoist myself up and avoid my immanent death.

But my lunch sack did split. And earlier I had thought that maybe I should double-bag it – had I stopped to double-bag it, I wouldn't have been able to catch the train at all. Had I not decided to run through town, had I decided to comb my hair or put on make-up, had I gone back to get my gloves... I would not have made it onto the train. Of course, the little places where I wasted time – losing my shoes, putting on mascara, hitting the snooze button, pausing to verify my train... I wouldn't have needed to throw myself onto a moving train. I could have just strolled up to the station and boarded. But this was the sequence of my morning; this is the series of events that have lead me to where I am now

I find it slightly ironic now that ever since I booked my tickets I've been freaking out because I only have 17 minutes to transfer trains at my first stop, knowing that in train-time seventeen minutes can easily be eaten up by a late train or a misplaced bag. Never did I imagine that catching the first train would be the bigger problem. Though I should point out that at this writing, I am still only on my first train and still have two more chances to miss trains today.

So now here I am, sitting in my second class seat, still breathing slightly too heavily, still slightly dampened with sweat and ever so glad that I did not take even a second to powder my nose. Because for one, no one on this train cares... but also because it may have changed the course of my life.

AUTHOR'S EDIT: I think I may have discovered the mystery as to what happened this morning. One thing I know for sure: I got on the wrong train. My train wasn't even supposed to make a stop in Lyon Part-Dieu... the 5:46 train was. And I KNOW that I was not there at 5:46. Had I stopped a few more seconds to see that “Lyon Perrache” and not stupid “Lyon Part-Dieu” was in the station rather than just scanning it for “Lyon,” I would have been in this trouble. Part-Dieu must have been late, so it was still in the station... and I got on it, thinking I was just in the nick of time when in all actuality I was making a complete fool of myself... and costing myself 40 extra euro and a day in Germany.