Finally. Easter break has arrived the building. The sun shining bright, I packed my bags and left Leuven to go back home again. Carrying a heavy bag, two backpacks and a tennis racket, I was glad to finally reach the station. I got on the train, pulled a comic book out of my backpack, stretched out my legs and waited for the train to reach its destination.
The train rushed through the sunny landscape while I lost myself in my not-so-deep literature. Breaks. The acceleration quickly dropped. I picked up my assortiment of bags and made my way to the closest exit out of the train. I pushed the button to open up the door of the train compartment. I pushed it again. The door didn't open. I franticly started pushing the other buttons as well (including the one to close the door, making no sense at all), in a desperate effort to open the thing. Behind me, a guy was waiting to get off as well. He was approximately 21 years old, carrying two bags, dressed in casual clothing. His hair was long, tied together in a pony tail.
In a matter of split seconds, I realised that the door wasn't going to open up at all, so we had to hurry our way to the other side of the compartment. I looked like a fool. I held my bags high, trying not to bash people on the way while I was running between the seats. With only three meters to go, I could hear the signal of the doors about to close. My heart rate went up by at least 30 and sweat emerged in places I didn't even know I could sweat. I reached the door.
The train rushed through the sunny landscape while I lost myself in my not-so-deep literature. Breaks. The acceleration quickly dropped. I picked up my assortiment of bags and made my way to the closest exit out of the train. I pushed the button to open up the door of the train compartment. I pushed it again. The door didn't open. I franticly started pushing the other buttons as well (including the one to close the door, making no sense at all), in a desperate effort to open the thing. Behind me, a guy was waiting to get off as well. He was approximately 21 years old, carrying two bags, dressed in casual clothing. His hair was long, tied together in a pony tail.
In a matter of split seconds, I realised that the door wasn't going to open up at all, so we had to hurry our way to the other side of the compartment. I looked like a fool. I held my bags high, trying not to bash people on the way while I was running between the seats. With only three meters to go, I could hear the signal of the doors about to close. My heart rate went up by at least 30 and sweat emerged in places I didn't even know I could sweat. I reached the door.
"CRAP"
The doors had already closed. The train started moving again. The guy who followed me could read the frustration on my face. Why the f*ck didn't that door just open up?
Incoming call. My mom. She told me that she was running a bit late, and that I probably would have to wait a bit before she could pick me up.
"You're not going to believe this..."
Luckily for me, my mom just left the city my train was headed. She turned around her car, and decided to pick me up at the next station. Tough luck for the other guy. I told him that I had never experienced something like this before. He didn't understand me. Turns out that he was Norwegian, and could only understand English. His plane landed in Belgium this morning, and he was supposed to get of the train in the previous train station to meet up with some friends. They would then go to Graspop together, a gathering for metal fans. He was a very friendly guy, and also the first Norwegian person I met in my life. We talked about the line-up of Graspop, and about how cheap the beer is here.
Fifteen minutes later we arrived. I gave our Norwegian guy some directions, so he would get the right train back to the appropriate station, and also managed to attain that he didn't have to pay for the ride back. I asked an employee why I wasn't able to open the door earlier. Turned out the door could only be opened with a special key, because it was a door to put bikes on the train. Let me just add that the door looked exactly the same as the other ones (with the same buttons on the side), with no sign whatsoever that it was not to be opened by passengers. Talking about good non-verbal communication. I'm sure I'll mail my complaints to the ombudsman of NMBS, thank you very much.
x, L.
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