I would like to blame someone else for my dilemma. And I tried it. After all, it was my friend who suggested setting the alarm half an hour later (the alarm that we then ignored). It was him who wanted to leave the house way too late, so we missed the subway. And when, despite all odds, we still stood in front of the train – it drove away from under our noses.
You might guess: I overslept. The Flixbus that was supposed to take me home had already left when I opened my eyes in panic. Because of the astronomically high ICE prices, as a Deutschlandticket holder, I decided to switch to the regional trains instead. More than 500 kilometers across the country with the Deutschlandticket. One day before Christmas. I regret the idea as soon as I leave the house – and immediately miss the first connection. I emphasize again: This was my friend’s fault. We have breakfast at Subway. “I am in misery,” Adam Levine sings over the speakers. A pigeon dances around our table and collects the falling sunflower seeds.
When the train – RE 3 to Hanover – finally leaves, the train is crammed with people, bicycles and suitcases. We get a seat next to the toilets. At that moment I wish I had an FFP2 mask like the ones some other guests have on their noses. The ride is alcohol-free, the conductor emphasizes every time new passengers board. Across from me, a tattooed man dressed in black opens a can of Jack Daniels. Maybe that’s the only way you can endure the whole thing.
The travelers crowd on the platform in Hanover. Our paths diverge here; My friend drives towards North Rhine-Westphalia, I drive further south. The regional train to Göttingen is already ready. Without hesitation, I grab the seat next to the toilet again – a wise decision, because a short time later the compartment is full again. “It would be much worse with children,” says a young woman in conversation with an older woman. Apparently there are no small children on the train, but there are plenty of teenagers who are loudly watching TikTok videos on their cell phones. “If there happens to be a police officer on the train, please move to car number five,” the conductor announces. Otherwise, things are going surprisingly smoothly so far.
There are a lot of small children on the train to Kassel. One of them, Emil, dressed in a brown snowsuit and with a pointed cap on his head, cries bitterly because his mother wants to sit with strangers. “But I don’t like them,” the boy clarifies. The mother shows no mercy. I almost cried with him. We drive past villages with illustrious names like Witzenhausen. However, the stop there isn’t funny. We stop for 15 minutes.
Because of the storm damage, the rails are currently only accessible on one track, the conductor informs. This means that from now on we have to wait at least a quarter of an hour at every stop. The connection in Kassel is long gone. Sitting next to me is a girl who is complaining loudly – and with a “Digga” after every other word – about missing her piercing appointment. I hope for her sake that, unlike my hometown, her piercer is not over 200 kilometers away.
Off to Fulda, the train is finally emptier. The fellow travelers tired and irritable. The suffering brings people together, but when it comes to who gets on the train first and gets one of the seats, everyone becomes lone fighters again. Everything is too much for me now too. Every cough, every cell phone ringtone makes me freak out inside. The pre-Christmas contemplation seems light years away from me. It’s pitch black outside. Not that there is much to see here on the North Hesse railway line in daylight. I lie back, close my eyes and can actually sleep for half an hour. The train is only eight minutes late, giving me enough time to grab at least a small snack from a drugstore to satisfy my growling stomach.
The next regional train is already ready. The passengers are already talking – sorry, babbling – in the familiar Hessian dialect. Home is within reach. Even more illustrious villages pass by, but at least the names are starting to sound familiar to me. After eight hours I finally reached my destination, in the north of Bavaria, in Aschaffenburg. I got off the train. The remaining kilometers are covered in my mother’s car. The trouble follows immediately. I’m suddenly really looking forward to the familiar warmth of home. And Christmas, Christmas is what I’m looking forward to the most.
