Why I Love the Deutsche Bundesbahn

Nearly thirty years ago. I went off on a Zen sesshin, or week’s retreat, at a Benedictine monastery situated in the hills bordering the edge of Wuerzburg in the winemaking region of Germany. The sesshin ended with an early breakfast on Easter Sunday. I walked down to the train station with my backpack full of the week’s dirty laundry and my head in a strange state of mind and stepped into the first train heading south.

Ten minutes out of the station, the conductor came into the carriage department I was occupying all on my own and asked for my train ticket. This fellow was a typical Bavarian: wide-of-girth, grumpy disposition, and spoke loudly in a broad Bavarian dialect. Something only the Bavarian employees of the DB have the courage to do. All the other employees spoke (some well, some not so well) in “Hochdeutsch”or High German.

The conductor took one look at my ticket and let out a few tongue clicks of disgust. “Don’t you know that you are on the Easter Special?” I gave him a blank stare. Annoyed, he went on to explain, “This train doesn’t stop until we reach Munich. It’s the Easter Special, which takes all the rich residents of Frankfurt and Wuerzburg high society to Munich for their Easter Sunday brunch, afternoon concert at the Stadttheater and then takes them back to the safety of their homes later this evening”. Still getting a blank look from me, “The train doesn’t go through Nuremberg, let alone stop off there”, he rumbles at me.

Slowly, it dawned on me that I might be in a bit of trouble: not only was the train not taking me where I wanted to go, my normal rate ticket probably didn’t allow me to ride on the exclusive Easter Special. This meant that I would have to purchase such a ticket, as well as a one-way ticket back from Munich to Nuremberg. My mind finally kicked into gear and I desperately searched through my backpack for my wallet. I had to figure out if I had enough to pay for the new train tickets. While I was doing this, the conductor barked, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back!” He left the carriage with my ticket in hand.

I sat there somewhat subdued after discovering to my dismay that even though I might have enough to pay for the trip from Munich to Nuremberg, there was no way I could buy the Easter Special ticket. So I contemplated what I could do; wash dishes for the train restaurant, sign over ownership of my rusty bicycle “¦ when an announcement came over the train’s loudspeaker system, “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Mr. Schmidt your conductor. I hope you are enjoying your journey with the Deutsch Bundesbahn this sunny Easter Sunday morning. I would like to announce that we are going to make an unscheduled stop in Treuchtlingen. I sincerely hope that this will not inconvenience you. Thank you for your understanding and we wish you a pleasant further journey”.

Treuchtlingen is a tiny station whose only claim to fame is that it is a crossing point for various train routes through Germany. Slowly, a horrible thought entered my head “¦ unexpected stop “¦ the train doesn’t stop in Nuremberg. And sure enough, five minutes later the grumpy conductor opened the door to my carriage with the biggest grin on his face. “So what do you think? You up to it? You know everyone in their fat fur coats and their fancy hats are going to be curious to see who has enough clout to stop the Easter Special.”

I turned beet red and stuttered to him in disbelief, “You are stopping the Easter Special to let me off?” “Yup”, he continued, “and not only that, I’ve called my colleague at the Treuchtlingen station and he will personally escort you to your connecting train back up to Nuremberg”. And with that he gave me back my ticket, which now had handwritten authorization that I could travel back to my destination without any further costs. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; I was so touched at his gesture.

Treuchtlingen quickly neared. The conductor carried my ragged backpack down the corridor to the train’s exit. When the train door opened, the stationmaster handed me down, took my backpack from his colleague, gave him a big wink, and nobly escorted me along the station platform. The whole time, the three of us kept serious expressions on our faces, and pretended not to notice how all the windows of the train had been pulled down and hatted men and fur-coated ladies, stuck their heads out to discover the identity of VIP that stopped their Easter Special.

Lia Hadley lives in Germany. Read and see more at Yum Yum Cafe.