Stuttgart - Nobody told Me about the party

Picture this in New York.  

You go to the subway to buy a ticket. The instruction are overly detailed and confusing. (I was born here, how the f*** do I know what f***ing zone I'm in!?) You get the ticket and walk to the train platform.  Notice that I didn't say, "go through the turnstile."  There is no turnstile, gate or guardian.  You go two stops.  You get off the train.  There is no turnstile, gate or guardian. "Gedouda here!"

Toto, I don't think we're in Hell's f***ing Kitchen anymore.

You're supposed to validate it yourself, though I'm damned if I saw any sign telling us to do that. I'm thinking that this ticketing system exemplifies German culture in ways Americans find wholly foreign.

So, I come out of the metro in Suttgart expecting to explore the wonders of Stuttgart Mitte, the old center of the city with its kitchen and probably a clock and some old German architecture.  What I see is lots and lots of tents and thousands of people eating and drinking.  I've never seen that much beer.   It was served in glasses! Imagine that at an open air festival in the States. ("Hey, Marge, souvenirs!"  "Keep drinking, Harry. I want a set of four.")

It never occurred to me to make this a gastronomic tour. It sure could have been...for twice the cost. Still, I had the best sandwich from an on the street kiosk kind of place.  It was a fresh salad sandwich on a toasty kaiser bun with a fresh yogurt dressing and a kind of chicken falafel.  Not part of the festival, but thoroughly satisfying for less than $5.25.

In the morning we went to the Mercedes-Benz Museum.  This is the highest design transportation museum I've ever been to.

STOP THE BLOGOSPHERE PRESSES! STOP THE BLOGOSPHERE PRESSES! 

MAJOR UPSET IN THE TRIP PLANS!  WILL ADAM AND NAOMI MAKE IT TO FUSSEN?

Up to now i have tried to avoid any long discursive portions on single events, but today's  travels fall into a different category.  Some would call it a travel nightmare, some an adventure.  I leave you to decide which it is.  And you might want to go get a snack and beverage of choice, 'cause I'm going to be long winded.

The hardest part right now is that everyone around us is talking about the problems today, but we can't understand what the hell they are saying.  But you can sure tell the subject.

There were two possibilities for us to get to Fussen today from Stuttgart.  We could take the 3:12 and connect in Ausburg with 10 minutes or take the 2:12 and wait the extra hour.  We opted for caution.  Then the train on the platform before ours jus st there for an extra half hour.  Na suggested we see if a new platform had been assigned.  Voila our train.

10 minutes late.  20 minutes.  30.  We sat there.  Finally someone translated the announcements for us.  A terrible storm had hit Ulm (on the way to Ausburg) with flooding and downed power lines. 40 minutes.  50. 60.

They announced that the train would not leave the station. 

We and half of Stuttgart went to see if the 3:12 had left.  It hadn't.  We and half of Stuttgart got on that train.

The laws of physics state, I think...or they ought to... that two bits of matter cannot occupy the same space in time.  That meant that some of us didn't get seats.  Actually, both of us.  After 20 minutes of waiting, they announced that there were more seats further up the train.  Leaving our suitcases, we walked the length of the train until we found the clog of people with the same thought.  We walked back as the train left the station too late for our connection in Ausburg.   

Somewhere along the way someone offered us a seat, which Naomi, bless her trouper's heart, let me have.  It was in a compartment of people all of whom were capable of translating the announcements.  "We don't know if this train will make it beyond Ulm."  "We still don't know if this train will make it beyond Ulm."  "This is Ulm. If you want to risk changing trains, it might not be a bad idea."

A compartment emptied.  We found ourselves with two 20 year old women who were very helpful in translating the announcements.  "We still don't know if this train will make it beyond Ulm."  "If you still want to get to Munich, you could take a train to (another city) , then a bus to Munich." "Remember that suggestion we just gave, you might want to try it, because this train isn't going nowhere."

Our friends checked the whole thing out, found out about trains to Fussen from Munich and led us to the new train...which had half of Stuttgart and a quarter of Ulm trying to get on board.

We got a hotel room.  It was hot.  No, we don't have air conditioning.  Yes, our wifi is 4.59 euros for the first hour.  Naomi, at the train station while I emailed our B&B in Fussen, braved the lines in the ticket office and found us a 4 train route to Fussen.  An American gave her an extra number ticket and helped translate.

Back to our hotel.  We got our bags and went to the front desk.  

Are you squeamish?  Here's where it gets creepy.  At the front desk I said we needed to cancel the rooms.  Then he said in a severe, innuendo laden voice, "No. You already used it." It was pretty damned clear what he thought happened in that room in the 45 minutes since we checked in.  I said we hadn't used it and he could look, then I pulled out both our passport and told him to read them.  By the time he looked at the room, with me at his side, he was eager to help us with perhaps a fan.  No? Can I help you make train reservations?  I suppose with a hotel in a train station he's used to it all, but he could have been polite about it.

Next was the chaos of buying tickets.  You need to understand that even with my hyperbolic prose there were lots of tired, stranded people.  The info desk had a couple of hundred in line at one point and the ticket office with three people on duty had at least 30 ahead of us when we got a number.  Not a normal afternoon in Ulm.

We were calmly waiting in line (Only 29 to go before us! 28!) a couple at one of the ticket windows had a minor argument with the agent. No big deal. Then everything ground to a halt. A different couple got into an argument with a different agent. It became heated. I don't speak German, as I said, but I believe the gist of the couple's complaint was "You guys suck and you suck specifically today and we hate you."  This went on for a while when another customer (Let's call him a potential passenger.  There was a lot of passenger latency in the station at that moment.) ran forward and started yelling. His German I understood: "I've been waiting in line for a long time! You're spending too much time with these people! You suck!" That seemed to spur the imagination of the guy I'll call the Skin Head because he had a shaved head, big muscles, and scary tattoos. He began to shout, too.  Naomi thinks he shouted about "This is what Germany has come to!" I'm fairly certain he threw in Big Banks.  

The police arrived 20 minutes after it all calmed down. 

Then began our mad dash to Fussen. Four trains with layovers of 14 min, 15 min, and 7 min. Train one was crowded with Ulm Station refugees.  Train two had two doors and people trying to ram in when we arrived.  Everyone from our train tried to cram in, too.

There's a nice comradery that can occur in adversity when no ticket agents are around. People were very helpful once they were on board. We squeezed in, held up by the press of bodies and luggage...for a 42 minute train trip.  Really, it would have been horrible if everyone there weren't so happy to be on a moving train.  We cheered when the doors closed.  We sighed together when no one tried to get on or off at a stop.  We handed luggage for the few who did need to get off. We laughed when we discovered that the platform at our station was on the other side of the train.  Then the train emptied and everyone rushed for their connection.

The next two trains only required running between platforms to get our trains. We made it. We didn't think we would, but we made it, helped in the end by three American women, one of whom grabbed Na's suitcase going up the last flight of stairs.

I'm done.  You can start the Blogosphere presses, again.