Mannheim To Frankfurt With Deutsche Bahn

Senk you for trevelling viz Deutsche Bahn. That's what the train "captain" used to announce over the microphone when the train arrived at a station and they said "Auf Wiedersehen!" in three different languages. They don't say that any more. Now they say Senk you for chusing Deutsche Bahn today. I guess they got a new American translator. And I'm always like, duh, did we have a choice?

The ICE train (InterCityExpress, not really cold train) does actually run pretty much on time. 10 years ago, it didn't. 10 years ago about 30% of ICE trains were either cancelled or late. One time, I was late to work in Frankfurt (yes, this is not the first time I've been foolish enough to accept a job in the big smoke) because there was a horse on the track. You heard correctly. The driver got out and held onto the horse until the police came.

This is a train that goes at over 300 kilometers an hour and everybody is relying on it to do that so that they can get to work. When I finally did, my manager did not believe the horse story and who can blame him.

Anyway Deutsche Bahn must have got a new boss or something because now, almost all the trains do actually run on time! I take that back! All of the trains run on time! OK I exaggerate! Very occasionally, there might be a teeny delay of 5 minutes, but the train will almost always have made it up by the time it gets to the next station.


So what am I ranting about then? I'll tell you what. Because the flipping things now almost always run on time, EVERYBODY is using them. And you know what that means? That's correct. NO SEATS.

When I tell this to people in the UK, or more precisely post it on my Facebook page, they're like, oh you need to take one of those collapsible seats. No! You don't understand! There is no room. The extremely narrow corridors are extremely full of people standing, sitting on the floor (and suitcases) and on top of that, there is a constant passage of ticket collectors, other Deutsche Bahn staff, the bloke with the coffee/snack cart, people who can't find their seats and people going to the loo. You can't block them with a collapsible seat.

This is how it goes down. I get on the train at my home station of Karlsruhe at 7:00 a.m. - that's pretty early for all this stress, so you've got to find some methods of calming yourself first. I have a bag stacked with sandwiches, flasks of coffee, a tablet (that's the one like an iPad, not the one like a Valium, although the latter would definitely help more), ear plugs and a big fat USB stick full of films, the whole Internet, and my knitting. No just kidding. I don't have the USB stick. No just kidding lol. I do have the USB stick, but I don't have the knitting. But that's only because I've run out of wool. I´ll have the knitting again next week.

Anyhoo, the train is mostly OK from Karlsruhe to Mannheim. Almost without knocking anyone over, I can usually get a seat. It's only 23 minutes anyway. And then comes the thing. At Mannheim, I have to vacate my warm little nest and change trains. And that's where the fun starts.

So, I get out at platform 3 and mosey on just a few dozen meters over to platform 2, where I wait for the ICE train to Berlin, also stopping at Frankfurt. I just have to wait 9 minutes for this miracle of speed. In the meantime, I know that the train always stops in exactly the same place so the doors will always be in the same place every time. And you know what? Everyone else, all the other hundreds of people on the platform know that too. So they always stand in exactly the same place. And the big ones are right at the front. Maybe some of them stand there all night. Maybe some of them camp out there. But I'm always too late. I just join the bunch at the back. By the time I arrive at platform 2, there is always a huge bunch of people congregated at each point where the doors are going to be when that ICE train stops. And I am never, ever going to be at the front of any of those bunches.

The thing about this ICE train is, there are probably 200 people waiting for it. Maybe there are 300, maybe 400, I don't know because I haven't actually gone and counted them. I don't know how many people there are, I just know it's too many. Because the ICE train always, always has far less actual SEATS then people with actual TICKETS that have cost a not inconsiderable amount of MONEY. Yes I'm talking to YOU, Deutsche Bahn.

When that slinky ICE train slides in (on time!) and its doors open, two things always happen. The first is that everyone in those little bunches filters back into two orderly lines on either side of each train door. For those who say the Germans don't know how to form a queue, take that back sir/madam! They form very proper and decent queues. Long, and with all the large, young men at the front and the short older ladies at the back, but queues nonetheless. There's none of your Titanic going on here. Nothing with the women and children first. Children? No no, just the men. OK and women if you absolutely must.

The second thing that happens is that everyone waits for the endless number of people to individually get off the train. You know that everyone in those two little lines is like, oh FFS how many more? Where are you all coming from? But they remain polite and patient. Again, you can instigate methods to keep yourself calm. I usually have a little bet with myself guessing how many people will get off out of that door on the train today. 25? 34? Sometimes I do hit the jackpot, sadly there is no prize.

When you do finally get on the train though, there is not only a long wait in the corridor behind people who wow!!! have have been fortunate enough to be able to book a seat and are stacking their suitcase somewhere, taking off many of their clothes, putting on their PJs and setting up their laptop and a picnic for the trip, but also much suitcase bashing from people coming from the other direction who have got onto the wrong carriage and are trying to find their wow!!! booked seat.

Today, two people near to me had completely dismantled themselves into a pair of seats, only to be confronted by another couple claiming said seats three minutes later.

"These are our seats", Lady No. 2 said. "75 and 76".

"We booked these seats", Lady No. 1 replied. "In Carriage No. 2".

"This is Carriage No. 7", said Lady No. 2. "Carriage No. 2 is five carriages further down... uh... that way", hand wave.

"But that's too far!" expostulated Lady No. 1 (I'm not kidding, word for word transcript).

"Sorry", Lady No. 2 said. "These are ours".

I spent a little time musing how Pair No. 1 could have mixed up Carriage No. 2 with Carriage No. 7. I mean the carriage numbers are written on the outside of the train. Then I realized that they had probably been confused by the large number 2 on the outside of the carriage. That does actually stand for 2nd class.

Meanwhile, I had bagged a mean position on the floor. I say mean because it was in a kind of a niche with only one woman sticking her suitcase into my back. I travel most days sitting on the floor of the train, that's because I have a dodgy arthritic knee and can't stand for the 45 odd minutes from Mannheim to Frankfurt. So I sit on the floor, I don't really mind. I was 55 last Thursday and I think, you know, I've done a lot of things in my life and this is just the next adventure. I don't always get such a good seat on the floor. Sometimes I get stuck in the path of an automatic sliding door and that's a pain I can tell you. Or I get outside a toilet. But today was, you know, OK.

I did take the trouble to look around and see if I could see how many people were less fortunate than myself and had no room on the floor and had to stand. I looked as far as I could, both right and left, and I managed to see about 25 pairs of shoes. I'm guessing that's 25 people. Maybe some people had just put shoes out.

Anyway, I was feeling quite calm what with the tablet and the sandwich and the coffee (I know! I did this tremendous balancing act of pouring the coffee out of the flask into the little plastic cup and was very proud of myself). And I found myself looking around at the people, which is not a hobby of mine, what with me being a bit of an introvert and quite self-centered. And I spotted this bloke not far away, in a seat, who was about 55 also, and looked kind of intellectual and interesting, and he was chatting to the young woman opposite, and I thought, he actually looks really nice, not like most of the rude, sarcastic people you normally meet on the train. I wish I could meet someone like him in the mornings.

Now, I don't mean actually to say that most of the people on the train are rude and sarcastic by nature. That is just not true at all. But I think that many of them turn into rude, sarcastic people when they come into contact with Deutsche Bahn and its lack of SEATS. I mean, I turn into a whole different person when I come into contact with the train. I've been know to collar someone and shout Help me! Please! Please help me to work the ticket machine!!! I need to get on the train and I can't get on till I get a ticket and I can't understand how to work the machine!! Admittedly that was in Switzerland.

But today, everything kind of went OK. I had the niche seat, I only got hit a few times, I did my balancing act with the coffee, I mused that there were nice people on the train and then joy of joys!!! About 10 minutes before Frankfurt, quite a few people with SEATS stood up to go and join the line of people leaving the train.

Now why you would want to do that 10 minutes BEFORE the train pulls into the station I don't know. I really don't know. You're not going to get there any quicker you know. FYI, just in case you are too thick to realize, all that is going to happen is that you are going to join a long queue, in which you can stand for 10 minutes, and then stand for a bit more while all the 97 people disembark at Frankfurt. Anyway, who cares? Because, it means free SEAT for me for 10 plus minutes!

So, overjoyed, I upped and offed out of the niche floor seat and popped myself into one of the recently vacated actual SEATS for the last 10 minutes of the ride. And you know what? It was right next to that interesting, nice-looking well-mannered bloke I had been admiring from the floor.

Oh boy was I happy to be in that seat. You have to be 55 and sitting on dirty, hard floor surrounded by boots and shoes and hard suitcases with your arthritic knee all painful to really appreciate the luxury of that seat after nearly 40 minutes, I can tell you. And I had just been basking in that luxury for about 20 seconds when said charming bloke, now next to me, stood up and said, I have to get out here.

Eh? Yes, I have to get out too, but it's another 10 minutes plus... well, I didn't say anything, being the polite person that I am. I did turn to him when he spoke to me, and I did look him in the eye, but I stood up immediately. And you know what that guy did? That guy who I had eyeballed afar from my niche floor spot for nearly 40 minutes and who I had thought looked so polite, intellectual and interesting? As he got up, he turned to me and snapped, "Yes, life is hard, isn't it?"

Yes, life is hard because of people like you, you twit. I was in a good mood when I got on the train. I didn't let any of the suitcase bashing or the hardness of the floor faze me. I was prepared to go through a bit of hardship to go and do a job I absolutely hate for 9 hours for an amount of money that is not bad but on which I pay too much tax, because the job I really love doing doesn't pay any money at all. But wouldn't it just be great if all you had to cope with in your working day was the job itself. And maybe the getting there and the getting back. And not the additional twits.

Deutsche Bahn. Senk you.