Sorry for the inconvenience
It’s just another monday. Wasting your time on Whatsapp, despite the fall semester exams, when a friend asks you for how long will you still be in your hometown.
Right, why haven’t I left yet? You just tipe “don’t know yet”, but in a twinkle of an eye you booked your train ticket for the following thursday. And at the same speed, Flu decides to travel with you. Your inappropriate guest, the one that always visits you when you least expect it. Only last year it came on Christmas, New Year’s Eve and the 10th of april, which is not only your birthday, but also the day when you had to pass a hard economy exam.
Your father works, thus you have to catch a bus to cover the 27km that divide you to the first of three trains to go back to the city where you study. The morning you’re supposed to leave you find out the bus stop is very far and you are on foot with your usual big suitcase. A friend comes to help with his car. The same morning you find out that the bus would have passed also in front of your house.
Meanwhile, Flu invites Gastritis, “you know, the more the better” and you’re locked in a bus. You writhe, someone is looking at you. You hate when people feel sorry for you, but it’s always better than throwing up on them.
Halloween, few years ago. You were coming back home from school on the same bus, opposite direction. You were happy because you would have gone to a party that night. However, Stomach didn’t agree and had a tantrum. You hated when people felt sorry for you, but it was always better than throwing up on them. You got off the bus half-way, so you could have done it in the street, worst case. You called your dad to ask him to pick you up.
And you’re now in the same bus, opposite direction, thinking who could come and pick you up this time, when, at the same point of the route, the drivers shouts that passengers need to change vehicle. An unrecognizable zombie version of you, not knowing how, jumps in the other coach, same for the huge suitcase.
I know that I’m not coming to the church for a while, but please let it pass.
You eventually end up at the train station. You’re early so you can run to the toilette. A smile bashfully shows up on your face when you notice brand new signals and you’re ready to pay 5 euros if needed. But the enthusiasm, and not only that, dampens when you realize that the toilettes are even chained. The zombie stumbles towards the bar. You’re on the platform and getting closer to the entrance you smell pee stink. For the first time in your life, that’s reassuring. But no, miss, we have no toilette. You are amazed that, in those conditions, they even had the courage of addressing you as a miss.
Obviously, the underpass had no elevator, but you consider it the last sacrifice before the relief. You consider the toilette of the train disgusting, but you’re 23 and you were a trained from childhood to toilette Toe Stand. Thank you Michael J. And mum, of course.
Train stops, you throw your belongings on the seat and run. You know, coaches 3 of italian intercities toilettes have an automatic door, that opens through a button. You first hear pffff (like rollercoasters when stop) and then, the door slowly opens.
You finally enter, somehow lock the door, lower your pants, Toe Stand, pffff.
No, that was not you.
And the door, slowly, opened. With the pants in your hands, you run towards the door, but it cannot get closed because first, it has to slowly get open. Entirely. On the other side a girl, visibly uncomfortable, was trying to do the same.
Door closed again. Toe stand. You stay in the bathroom (and it feels like ages), looking for a black hole that could swallow you. Nope. To hide yourself you settle with your Lindsay Lohan rehab sunglasses. And after all, you look a bit like Lindsay Lohan doing rehab. You gather up some courage. You get out. And the girl is still there begging you pardon. You would like to tell her “if I was able to throw myself through the flusher, we won’t be at this point, believe me.”
And people say that technology improves humans’ lives.
It’s just the first of three trains, but no worries, it can’t get any worse. You arrive at Pescara Centrale and the speaker of the train dethrones your headphones. “We inform our passengers that due to a damage in Pineto station, the train will be blocked here until the firemen intervention. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
End of communication. The headphones claim your attention again and the shufflng mode mocks you with Viva la Vida of Coldplay.
From Puglia (a Southern Italy wonderful region), born in 1991, 1.63 meters…short! Master in International Relations, I care about human rights and our wonderful planet. I love cooking, volleyball, the sea, winning board games. I hate talking about money, being interrupted when speaking, winter, a badly made Margarita, losing board games.