My Life Is Too Ridiculous Not To Blog, Part 2

Once again, folks, I had defeated the cynics. To all those Negative Nancys, who thought I could never make it to a train station on time, in any country, I had proudly proclaimed: Yes, We Can. I had left my apartment a full hour early for a 30 minute journey, accounting for traffic and other possible delays, just like a real live grown-up. I had boarded the proper metro line, and pulled into New Delhi Station with 20 minutes to go before my train for Ahmedabad was bound to depart. It was 8:35pm. Nice work, Callie.

There was only one problem. When I entered the terminal, I pulled out my ticket confirmation, which I had responsibly remembered to print in my office earlier that day—my train was not listed on the station bulletin!

I double checked the bulletin at the other end of the terminal. The necessary information was nowhere to be found. I stood dumbfounded, watching as the train listings scrolled across the screen. 8:38. I looked down at my confirmation, up at the board, down, and up, and down, and up, unable to ascertain why there was not even the slightest mention of a delay or cancellation. Come on, India, you can do it, I prayed under my breath, hoping that I had just missed it, and that the listing for the 8:55 for Ahmedabad would pop up on the screen any minute. Alas. It would not. 8:42.

I tried to go to the “Queries” counter, but… In the capital of the second-largest country in the world, they could only find TWO people to staff it. So there were lines of literally scores of men (yes, all men), waiting behind the two open windows to ask a question or make a booking. 8:47. Come on, India, I muttered, with more frustration than hope.

You’re probably wondering why I didn’t just listen to the announcements. Surely they would have mentioned a train that was scheduled to depart in less than ten minutes. 8:49. Actually, in five minutes. Maybe they were making an announcement at that very second! Too bad one of the ‘Queries’ guys was ALSO making announcements over the PA system SIMULTANEOUSLY— the result obviously being that both were completely unintelligible. 8:50.

Desperate, I started asking people around me for help. They looked down at my paper and then up at the big screen. I told them that it wasn’t listed on the big screen. They looked down again, up, down, and up. Useless. 8:52. I ripped my ticket away from them and scurried away, my luggage awkwardly wobbling behind me as I swerved around the swarms of men under the loudspeakers.

The clock was ticking. My heart was racing. And I still had no idea where to go, with only minutes before my train. 8:53. Then, like a ray of sunshine through a day of clouds, I thought I heard it. Ahmedabad. The strangely melodious and robotic voice of the announcer, through all the shuffle and hubbub of the station, “Eyk”—Platform One. She was speaking in Hindi, and the queries guy was still going strong, so I couldn’t be entirely sure, but there was no time to waste—I had to take the chance. 8:54.

I slammed the rolling handle down into the suitcase, lifted it onto my hip, and started to run through the station, jumping up the steps and sprinting across platforms, 16, 15, 14… elbowing past porters carrying giant sacks of rice, barefoot Hindu pilgrims and Mumbai business men, women with entire suitcases on their heads—8:55!! Time was out, but I was only 4 platforms away. Platform 4, 3, 2…

I kept sprinting, rolling my little red maleta as fast as it would roll, and as I turned to jump down the stairs, I saw that the train was already pulling away. NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! I actually did scream this time. Everyone was already staring at me, so why not? I kept running down the stairs, my suitcase banging angrily against my thigh, and saw a conductor hanging out the door of the train only a few yards away. I sprinted towards him shouting “Help dijiye, wait kijiye!” in classic Delhi Hinglish, and passed him my suitcase as the train gathered speed, then jumped onto the train as it sped out of the station!

My adventure was successfully underway. Gujarat, Ho!

The End.