Day trips are too short anyway

I awoke abruptly. It was about 7:47am and I was pulling into the Gare de Vaise train station, close to school; Close to the apartment I'd been calling home for the 4 months I'd been studying abroad so far in Lyon, France. I wiped the drool from my crumpled impromptu North Face pillow, grabbed my backpack and ran off the train. No one was in my way; I was the only one.

I sprinted the three blocks to my school. 7:56am. I stopped at the school cafe, threw down 3 euro and got a double espresso. Not the good kind, but the instant kind that comes out of a machine you never see any real coffee beans go into. It worked. The elevator was packed, I took the stairs. Three flights. 7:58am. I ran into my finance class and sat down, one of the last to arrive. 8:00am. The door shuts. Books away, calculators and pencils out. You may start your exam.

26 hours earlier I had awoken. There were 5 of us and we were doing a day trip to the beautiful town of Annecy, France. A simple 2 hour, and most importantly $12, train ride catered to this fantasy. It was sunday and we were trying to get the 6:47am train to start the day early. This certainly was a pipe dream as we missed it by about 20 minutes. 7:47am would just have to do. We got there by 10:00am and started roaming. Indeed it was one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. We rented a boat. We got fondu. We took lots of pictures and ate lots of pastries. We toured the local market, bought some spices and fresh fruit. We toured the historic prison for 1 euro. As the day wore on there was simply too much to take in.

Our 6pm departure train arrived a little too quickly for my now French acquired relaxation. I decided that the massive finance exam I had at 8am the next day was still plenty far removed, so I opted to stay back for the 8pm train, and last of the night back to Lyon. I hiked up the hill and strolled through the massive cathedral overlooking the town of Annecy. A place very unique, but quintessential of all that is gorgeous in the French countryside. I arrived back at the train station with plenty of time to spare, and awaited my train to come. I boarded. We left. I fell asleep and awoke around 9:45. This was ideal as I knew I only had about 15 minutes to arrive at Lyon. But I had awoken to something peculiar. It was a stop, but everyone had gotten off. The train was empty. I mused at how surprising it was no one else was returning to the second largest city in France that night. I later realized this was a logic I should never doubt again.

The train emptied and we started moving again. 3 minutes passed and an older gentleman in overalls came into the car with broom and large, deeply stained, brown work boots on. Startled to see me, he approached and rattled off some French to me. It was too fast so I responded cordially with hello. He slowed his pace and asked where exactly I was going and to see my ticket. I said Lyon, to which one might've thought was the likes of an experienced comedian. The man billowed and announced to me in perfect Fran-glish I'd taken the completely wrong train.

Allez. The train had just stopped by this point and he grunted and motioned for me to follow. We jumped from my train car and immediately began running. I realized we were now in a train yard, surrounded by bohemoth locamotives that were layed down for the night. I dodged in betwen them following the shadowy figure that I pretty much now would've trusted my life with. After a 3/4 mile sprint we jumped into the conductor's car of another train, which at most other moments would've been a cool opportunity. Now I felt like a complex melting pot of James Bond and Andy Dufresne.

This conductor was Swiss and spoke more english. Without any indication as to where I currently was, he told me there were absolutely no trains to Lyon or Paris until late the next morning. He said I could take a train now for about 2 hours, arriving at another station around midnight, at which point I could catch a 1.5 hour train back to Lyon at 6:00am. 7:30am would put me in Lyon in just enough time to get to my finance midterm. I was sold. We jumped from the conductors car and ran another .5 miles and sporatically jumped into a third train. My fearless leader explained to the new conductor my situation and they granted me a free pass. It was very nice of them.

I crashed into an empty seat. Exhausted. Shaken. The people around me had no idea of who I was, where I'd been. In fact it dawned on me I had no idea where I was, nor did anyone else in the world that I knew. It was strangely thrilling. I got up and walked to a map on the wall. There was another boy about my age looking at the map as well who noticed I was American from the Lonely Planet guide gripped close to my heart. I found out he was an amateur mountain climber and high altitude snow boarder on the way back from a trip in the alps. He lived in La Rochelle on the East Coast and offered for me to come visit once I found my way back to Lyon and took my finance exam. I said that'd be great and got his card.

We passed shanty station after shanty station and I anxiously awaited for us to pull up to the one I'd be calling home for the night. I figured this would most likely be the low point of my night, arriving in the equivalent of a bus stop meets grandpas rickety gasoline shed in the back yard. We eventually arrived at a nice station to my luck happened to be mine. I got off and entered the waiting room. I got a double espresso to ease my mind and pulled out my finance...far to jolted to sleep I decided to study. The station was fairly empty at this point and a conductor came in to ask me what train I was taking. I said the 6:00am to Lyon. He gave his regards and left. About 20 minutes later he re-entered, perplexed. He asked where exactly I was staying, to which I gave him a broad gesture of the hard plastic art-deco chairs surrounding me. He chuckled, but realizing I was serious, told me the station closed in about 7 minutes and didn't reopen until 5:45am. We looked at each other for awhile, and seeing the sense of lost in my face he offered to lock me inside the station for the night. He said that no one would be able to get in, but consequently I wouldn't be able to leave either. I had access to the vending machines, the instant coffee maker and the bathrooms. A ridiculous option in most situations, in the moment I felt as if this man deserved a Nobel prize.

I figured at this point it was time to get some studying done for my finance exam in about 8 hours assuming I could get there. I bunkered down on the floor and pulled out my books and tried to relax a bit. Confirming that it doesn't matter where I'm at studying finance, I fell asleep in about 20 minutes. The lights went out on their own and I figured I'd soon be home. I drifted off only to be abruptly woken by stadium lighting that had been activated by a motion sensor when I flinched. This happened periodically throughout the night. I finally got over it and woke for the last time to a man drive by me on a floor polisher. He looked at me, curled up on the floor, and smiled. I nodded, unsure of what he was making of the situation.

At last, I boarded a train and was off. I never really thought through all of this to determine exactly where I was, where I spent this random night in a station, made friends with various characters in the french rail system. I guess the anonymity fueled the adventure a little more. I got a 98% on the finance exam. Sometimes things balance out.