Kissing everyone I knew Good Bye from the threshold of the train was a bit eerie. Of course, I had no way of knowing what adventure and darkness would unfold as I started on my way. I had a ticket in my hand and hope in my heart. With a few steep stairs, I was aboard The Orient Express to begin a three day Odyssey.
With a very narrow and steep entrance, negotiating both a large Samsonite suitcase and a heavy back back was difficult. A conductor with his spiffy uniform, straight out of an Agatha Christie novel, helped me to my sleeping car after looking at my ticket. To the right and six doors down, I’d be shut away from the riffraff, alone to watch the countryside go by. In the worst case scenario, I would simply sleep the trip away. I was good at sleeping through difficult situations and this might become one.
Ushered into Sleeping Car 24, I examined every aspect of my tiny little home away from home. To the right, there were two bunks, one atop the other. Both had a nice view out the window which only opened about 2″, from the top down. There were ancient curtains, attached at the top and bottom, which when slid closed, would provide total darkness. To the left, there was a small water closet with a toilet/shower combo inside. Next to that, a sink and utility shelf. Completing the room, in the corner, sat a very comfortable but small leather recliner, also looking out the window. The entire compartment was maybe six feet square, plenty big for one. But there would be one little situation that arose before the train ever left the station.
Unexpectedly, there was a knock on the door. Thinking the conductor may have forgotten something, I cautiously opened it, as someone forcefully pushed towards me, shoving me back, almost to the window. In the doorway, a very tall, dark, hairy man stood, a gleam in his eye and smile on his lips.
“‘Eh-Lo”, he sneered in a very deep voice, as his eye gaze traveled slowly from the top of my pretty little head to the tips of my dainty little toes. Giving me the once over, his smirk intensified.
“Hello?” replying timidly, I realized I had no weapon or way to protect myself.
Without any introductions, he simply lifted his large leather suitcase up onto the top bunk and moved in.
“What are you doing? This is MY sleeping compartment!” came out of my mouth, sharp and decisive. He must remove himself now. The queen of this cabana had spoken. THIS was NOT acceptable. What could this mean? How could this be? This was MY sleeping compartment, paid for by an American Company for ME. Not to be shared with some unknown leering and jeering man of dubious means. Not such a large man that the two of us would have no personal space. Certainly not for three days. No. No. No. Wrong. This was not happening.
“NO. THIS is MINE, too.” With that declaration, a guttural and primal laugh emerged from his porcine lips.
With the moves of a ninja, I was out the door to retrieve that little conductor. This terrifying cabin poacher would be history. My receipt for a single room included No roommate or free-loader. This would be fixed in a flash. Now. As the conductor followed me back to the cabin, I’m quite sure I saw him roll his eyes. But, this communal situation wouldn’t be tolerated. Period.
Opening the door, cigar smoke billowed out of the cabin. Damn. A smoker, too. The worst. The conductor was at a loss as to why the two of us were sold the same cabin, but, it was decided the poacher would move to another. Disgruntled, he removed himself with one last horrible glance my way. I was left to deal with the second hand smoke and lingering body odor he left behind. Locking the door with three latches and my suitcase in front, it took a little while for my pulse to return to a normal rate.
With our cabin debacle taking more time than expected, we left the station 20 minutes later than scheduled. It would be three days until I arrived in Bucharest, Romania. Until then, I’d make the most of my time. I would only nibble on the bread or apples when I got very, very hungry. Until then, I would amuse myself however I could.
I decided to walk the length of the train, after we’d been traveling for about an hour. It would be refreshing to stand on the landings between the cars and smell the fresh country air as we rolled along. Perhaps someone would notice my gaunt cheeks and offer some nourishment from their fat baskets of yumminess. Alas, no one was passing out goodies, and soon, Day 1 was coming to an end. Returning to the safety of my sleeping compartment and climbing aboard the top bunk, (which was always going to be mine), I settled into the night rhythm of the train. Checking and rechecking the locks, I finally made sure one last time that I was secure and floated off to sleep.
Until.
I don’t like watches. If it’s dark, I’m probably thinking about sleeping. If it is getting light, it’s probably time to start waking up. Although I did carry a watch, it wasn’t on my wrist when I suddenly awoke. It WAS certainly very, very dark outside. The movement of the train had stopped, but noisy activity continued outside the train.
Looking through the window, I hardly believed my eyes. A crane had train-sized jaws around the sleeping car that had been attached to the same train while following along on this entire trip. It was lifting the car filled with sleeping people off of the original set of wheels and onto a set new wheels on tracks of a different width, running right along side the ones on which I had previous been traveling. We were entering the Hungarian Soviet Republic. The Hungarians obviously didn’t want to be invaded by rail. The European train wheels wouldn’t work on the Hungarian track. Plain and simple.
Terror struck me as I watched the crane hoist this huge rail car high into the night sky and carry it inches before setting it down again. Luckily, I’d been asleep when mine was moved. A few minutes after I’d opened my eyes to the dark unknown of night activities, there was a seriously determined knock on my door. Unwanted and untimely.
I’d prepared for a trip alone, and packed a matronly nightgown. I wasn’t going to get caught in a frilly negligee if something went amiss. So, in my long sleeved, full flannel nightgown with buttons at the neck and wrists (for added security), I shyly asked who was at my door.
“Who is it?”
“Po-Lee-Cee-ah. Open. Now.”
Blood running cold, I froze. Police? At my door? For being a witch to the guy that tried to steal my room? For walking up and down the train? Why? Why me?????? Why Now?????
“Po-Lee-Cee-ah! Open Door Now, or we will open it for you…..”
With that, I knew I must comply. In the little comfort that my flannel shroud provided, I slowly reached for the first lock, and prayed that this was all some very terrible misunderstanding…….
To Be Continued……