06.15.06

It’s not my fault

Posted in Uncategorized at 11:33 am

I’ve been debating on whether or not I should post this. Here goes…

Lance and I were in Lecce last week, about as far south as you can go into the bootheel of Italy. We had a convention to attend, but since it was over on Sunday after lunch we decided to take the night train home to Ancona. We goofed around in Lecce, sightseeing with Jason and his son, and our friend Maurizio. We headed to the station a little early, ready for our seven hour trip north to Ancona.

We were the first to board the train. We had bought lettini - beds. We bought the cheapest ones, which means their are six beds in one little compartment. It’s crowded, and sometimes a little weird since you’re sleeping with strangers, but it’s cheap! But soon after, another group of people came in. And as it turns out, they had the exact same seat numbers as us.

Maurizio was the champion in this story. Initially, the train conductor said there was nothing he could do and that we would have to be in piedi - on foot - the whole 7 hour, overnight trip. With two kids in tow! I was pretty ticked. But Maurizio did what Italians are great at doing - he argued with him. Over and over again the train conductor said that it wasn’t his fault - he didn’t sell the tickets twice. But we reminded him that he did work for the company who did. Finally, he begrudgingly found us 5 empty seats 6 cars away. Seats, mind you, not beds.

But it gets weirder, finally after settling into our new seats, we find out that the seats (there are 6 in the cabin, three on each side) kind of slide forward and lean back to make a bed. And when all 6 people do that the seats meet up with each other and make one uncomfortable bed. We literally could not turn over without bumping into to someone. It was just short enough so that I couldn’t completely stretch out. Jason and I at one point noticed that we were technically sleeping in the same bed with our children and two women we had never met. It was awkward and bizarre and frustrating all at once.

And tomorrow I’m going to the train station and do my best angry Italian impression. They had better be giving me a refund. Oh, life on the trains…

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