7-7-07
Why would anyone want to travel 1st or 2nd class when one can travel luggage class? That’s right…luggage class. The definition of luggage class is when three American travelers purchase a ticket without seat numbers on a train with seat numbers and are forced to sit with the luggage. Here is what happened…Jessie and I planned an entire weekend trip, by our selves, to Sorrento and Capri. We scheduled an itinerary, purchased train tickets, and booked a hostel/campsite. We were pretty impressed with our organizing abilities and went to sleep Thursday night feeling confident that the trip would run smoothly. Then the 4:00 a.m. alarm sounded Friday morning. It was not too difficult waking up and getting ready, but we forgot that Florence is still pitch black that early in the morning. In America, as everyone knows, only crazies are out and about that early so two blonde headed girls should not be. Well, the same applies in foreign countries. The walk to the train station was the scariest time in my life. A man on a moped stopped next to our sidewalk and started growling, two other men started cursing at us on the bridge, and the homeless people along the station wall were being creepy. Italians, thank goodness, will only cat call, so we were more than fine. Just a little freaked out. Our morning continues to get better when we realized that our 5:30 train was no where to be found on the board. That’s a problem. Train station workers do not arrive at the office until a little after 5:30, so we were unable to ask for help. Finally, we ask a security guard and he shows us another board that says the only other train to Napoli leaves at 8:30. How frustrating! Even though we knew our tickets did not match that particular train, we decided to go back home, relax, and head back to the station for the 8:30. We could get away with it right? Wrong…very, very wrong. As soon as we stepped on the train, we realized that people were looking for their assigned seats. Oops. This is when we found our seats with the luggage. Obviously, I thought this was the funniest thing in the world and could not stop laughing. My laughter was soon silenced by the ticket checker. He does not miss a thing and immediately charged us the difference. The train stopped in Rome and we were approached by an American that, ever so politely, reminded us that luggage racks are for luggage, not people. Needless to say, we had to move, even though we paid good money for those seats. Oh well. We went to the food car and stood for the remaining hour. When we finally arrived in Napoli, we had to find another train to take us to Sorrento. We, along with what seemed liked the entire city of Napoli, were lined up on the same platform. How we were all going to fit onto the same train, I have no idea. It was going to be an all out shoving war. We won! The train was scorching hot, sticky, and smelly with about 100 people crammed into the space between the cars. No seats were available when we boarded. The smell that started filling the room was the worst smell you have ever smelled multiplied by 100. I thought I was going to pass out. People slowly started getting off the train at various stops and I could finally move and breathe. But as people started exiting, little gypsy children playing accordions started entering. Those poor kids are the dirtiest, scariest kids I have ever seen. It’s sad that you have to grab a hold of your wallets and bags when they walk by because if you don’t, say goodbye to your things. Finally, the train stops in Sorrento and we no longer feel like American immigrants.
Why would anyone want to travel 1st or 2nd class when one can travel luggage class? That’s right…luggage class. The definition of luggage class is when three American travelers purchase a ticket without seat numbers on a train with seat numbers and are forced to sit with the luggage. Here is what happened…Jessie and I planned an entire weekend trip, by our selves, to Sorrento and Capri. We scheduled an itinerary, purchased train tickets, and booked a hostel/campsite. We were pretty impressed with our organizing abilities and went to sleep Thursday night feeling confident that the trip would run smoothly. Then the 4:00 a.m. alarm sounded Friday morning. It was not too difficult waking up and getting ready, but we forgot that Florence is still pitch black that early in the morning. In America, as everyone knows, only crazies are out and about that early so two blonde headed girls should not be. Well, the same applies in foreign countries. The walk to the train station was the scariest time in my life. A man on a moped stopped next to our sidewalk and started growling, two other men started cursing at us on the bridge, and the homeless people along the station wall were being creepy. Italians, thank goodness, will only cat call, so we were more than fine. Just a little freaked out. Our morning continues to get better when we realized that our 5:30 train was no where to be found on the board. That’s a problem. Train station workers do not arrive at the office until a little after 5:30, so we were unable to ask for help. Finally, we ask a security guard and he shows us another board that says the only other train to Napoli leaves at 8:30. How frustrating! Even though we knew our tickets did not match that particular train, we decided to go back home, relax, and head back to the station for the 8:30. We could get away with it right? Wrong…very, very wrong. As soon as we stepped on the train, we realized that people were looking for their assigned seats. Oops. This is when we found our seats with the luggage. Obviously, I thought this was the funniest thing in the world and could not stop laughing. My laughter was soon silenced by the ticket checker. He does not miss a thing and immediately charged us the difference. The train stopped in Rome and we were approached by an American that, ever so politely, reminded us that luggage racks are for luggage, not people. Needless to say, we had to move, even though we paid good money for those seats. Oh well. We went to the food car and stood for the remaining hour. When we finally arrived in Napoli, we had to find another train to take us to Sorrento. We, along with what seemed liked the entire city of Napoli, were lined up on the same platform. How we were all going to fit onto the same train, I have no idea. It was going to be an all out shoving war. We won! The train was scorching hot, sticky, and smelly with about 100 people crammed into the space between the cars. No seats were available when we boarded. The smell that started filling the room was the worst smell you have ever smelled multiplied by 100. I thought I was going to pass out. People slowly started getting off the train at various stops and I could finally move and breathe. But as people started exiting, little gypsy children playing accordions started entering. Those poor kids are the dirtiest, scariest kids I have ever seen. It’s sad that you have to grab a hold of your wallets and bags when they walk by because if you don’t, say goodbye to your things. Finally, the train stops in Sorrento and we no longer feel like American immigrants.
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