Do not poop on the TGV

My friend Linda collects rocks.  A couple of years ago was the first time she told me to get bring her back rocks from wherever I went.

"What kind of rocks?" 

"Rocks.  Any rock."

"Like, some special rock?"

"Just a rock.  Any rock."

So I'm in Asia a couple of years ago, and I went to about 5 countries on that trip, and I kept forgetting to pick her up a rock.  I guess I was making more of it than she would have... I'm looking for special rocks, and to me, they all just look like rocks.  Really, I could just get a handful of rocks at home and tell her they were from Malaysia and Bali.  But I feel like she'd KNOW.  So I stressed myself out, because you know it would be the last possible minute in every country before I remembered to get her a fucking rock, and then I thought that maybe it wasn't a good enough rock for her.  

We've got a TGV train from Avignon to Barcelona at 8:40 am, and because this was a part of the trip I hadn't really planned in advance, it was a pretty expensive trip.  About $90 per person, for a 3.5 hour train ride.  We paid a premium to get there fast; we could have taken a bus, but saving time was worth it.  And for some reason, first class was only an extra $10 a person more, so I "splurged."  Justin loves trains, and maybe there was something really nice going on in the front of this enormous fast train that we could experience for a measly $10.

We had to get up super early, because there were only two trains from Avignon center to Avignon TGV, and that train only took about 9 minutes and we'd have to get there an hour before the TGV took off.  But I'm a nervous nelly, and if you miss your TGV you're in trouble.  They're non-refundable and you have to reserve in advance and they don't run that often.

I hadn't really slept the night before, so I couldn't wait to get on the train and nap, but instead I got a big baguette from Maison Kayser and a big cup of coffee, just to get thorough the next hour without being cranky.  Also, I never go on long trips without packing some food.  You never know if you're going to get stuck.

We get on the train, second car.  The seats are much wider and a bit more comfortable. Not too impressed with first class, but whatever.  I'm just waiting to get this train going because I really have to go #2 and you have to wait until the train leaves the station or your waste gets dumped (haha) on the track in front of where people stand.

So I get into the bathroom, and it's just been cleaned.  I don't like to talk about my bathroom habits, but I'm the type of person who, when I gotta go, I gotta go.  Even if it's in public, even if it's on a train.  Some people will hold that in all day.  I just can't.  But I want to make sure I don't mess up this bathroom, so I actually test the flush mechanism to make sure it works, because there's nothing worse than walking into a public bathroom filled with, literally, crap.  It works.  Ok, I do my business. 

Of course, AFTER I go, the toilet no longer works.  Goddamnit.  I keep trying to flush, nothing.  I'm just hoping that someone isn't waiting on the other side to come in, because there's no way I can pretend that I wasn't the one who just left all that in there.  So i did the only polite thing I could think of: I put some more toilet paper on the top of my poop so that at least no one would have to look at it.  No one was waiting for me on the way out, but I still felt the shame of what I had done.  I do. It know where that even comes from, that shame.  Everybody poops.

I sit back down, I eat some of my baguette, justin does some shit on his computer.  

There's been this annoying, but quiet, alarm that rings, then goes off, then rings again. About an hour goes by, and the TGV, which means "very fast," starts slowing down. And then comes to a stop.  We're all kind of looking at each other, and justin points out the that electricity is off.  The guy sitting across from us is looking out the window, facing the back of the train.  Justin looks too, and calmly turns back around.

"There's smoke everywhere," he whispers.

The train is on fire. 

No announcements from the crew.  Unless you call two female crew members RACING through our car, towards the back of the train, an announcement of sorts.

You know, every time I'm on a plane, and there's turbulence, I get worried.  I don't know who said this to me once, but someone said, "look at the flight attendants.  Do they look worried? Then you shouldn't."

So, yeah, this didn't bode well.

I of course instantly attribute this all to the fact that I couldn't flush the toilet.  Maybe all that frantic flushing caused some kind of electrical issue.  Seriously, I could see it now... Over the loudspeaker, an announcer proclaiming, in not one but two languages, that someone taking a shit in Car 2 caused a fire and now we've got big problems.

Soon, we see people from the back of the train Walking with all of their stuff.  On the tracks.  Some guy is bleeding all over his arm.  Only one guy, though.  He must've have just fallen. 

No one has said anything to us, or told us to get off the train.  But this is France, and no one is panicking, even when the crew come running back from other back of the train.  We all calmly and collectively decide to exit the train.  And this takes a while, because the door is high off the ground and people are helping everyone jump down off the train and get their stuff off.  Some guy finally runs to our cabin and yells "leave your stuff on the train and just get off!"

Justin and I are now walking on the tracks with everyone else.  There's a small train station called lunel a couple of minutes' walk ahead.  Black smoke is a BILLOWING from the train.  

Justin says "well.  First class isn't exactly what I imagined it would be."

 Everyone else looks incredulous, no one mad.  Old people carrying their own shit, moms carrying babies and strollers, because you can't roll your wheelie bag over these very large rocks.

Rocks.

I turn to justin and said "wait a minute... I just found Linda's special rock."  We're cracking up.

Some lady, in French, turns to me and says, "can't they just take that last train car off so we can go?"  I don't think that's how it works, lady.  My French seems to be improving.

As we're walking with all of our shit, no idea about where we're going, I comment that I wonder if this is how the Jews felt during their exile from, well, everywhere.  It was nice to have a moment to connect with the Sephardic past that my mom claims we have. 

There is no information at all.  Not because they're not giving it to us, but because there is none.  The head conductor his on his cell phone, the crew is pissed as well.  Clearly this doesn't happen often.  Now we're in this tiny town, on a Sunday, which to means that nothing's going to happen for a while.  The train is still on fire, and they've got to deal with that before any trains can get through at all, so there was going to be no "next train."  

So we wait.  About three hours total.  Justin finally eats some of that duck prosciutto and reblochon cheese I've been going on about for the last day.  They've got everyone employed in the town hanging out with us... Firemen, local police, the gendarmes, whoever the hell they are.  A couple of old people are taken away in ambulances for who knows what.  It was gorgeous outside, thankfully, and justin and I had a good sense of humor about it all at that point.  The first hour goes by, and they bring us cases of water.  They open up some municipal buildings for people to sit in who want air conditioning.  After about 2 hours, they tell us that there will be 5 buses to take us somewhere else.  

We all very calmly walk to the municipal building and wait for these busses.  I am just hoping that this is some titanic situation where they board all of the first class passengers first.  I'm totally taking advantage of this caste system I paid to be in today.

Mais non, women and children and old people first.  That's ok with me, get all the cranky kids on the same bus.  We wait for #2.  These busses are not coming swiftly.  But then the Red Cross arrives, and brings everyone foot-long hot baguette sandwiches with ham.  THE RED CROSS.  Justin is thrilled.  Nothing better than a free sandwich.  Even though he just had one.   I'm starting to wonder when they're going to bring out the FEMA cots, and what French FEMA cots are like if their aid sandwiches are baguettes.  

We finally get on bus 4, with the help of two ladies who decided to help the gendarme keep the crowd in line.  At this point, it's been a little over 3 hours.  There has been no pushing, no loud complaining.  Not even by the few Americans we noticed, although on SuperDad concocted some plan for the 7 of them to get a taxi to get to the next station himself.  Moron.  There is no next station.  There is no next train.  Anyway, No chaos.  We get on the bus, with absolutely no idea where we're going.  We don't even ask.  

I figure we're going to Montpellier (which in keep confusing with Marseille) because it's more of a hub, but I had no idea where Lunel was in relationship to anything.  We could have been 20 minutes from Avignon for all I knew.  I tell justin, "hey, Montpellier has a big swing dance scene," and he rolls his eyes.  My phone dings, and my tripadvisor app lets me know we're indeed in Montpellier.  More eye rolling, and more laughter.

We get off the bus, and we're the last people off the bus.  Justin doesn't see my purple bag until he sees some guy wheeling it away.  Justin runs up to him and strongly tells him that it's his, and the guy apologizes and kinda looks at justin like he's crazy.  I mean, after all that we've just been through, some guy is gonna rob us?  Or was he just a moron?  Whatever the answer, justin was not to be trifled with today.

Montpellier train station is packed.  Full of people in lines for reservations, for information, for ticket exchange.  The big screen just says that there's been a fire and that the trains are over 4 hours late, and makes sure to point out that the train is a Spanish-run RENFE train, insinuating that it wasn't the fault of the French.  A little dig at the spaniards.  No more information.  Nobody knows what is happening.  They start handing out "SNCF assistance boxes," more aid for the stranded.  They run out before we get our second free sandwich.

We wait about an hour, and all of a sudden, They announce a track, and not only do we not have to transfer at Perpignan as we were originally told, it's going to completely replace the original train and go straight to Barcelona.  

We take our same seats, and the French couple across from us smiles.  We start laughing.  Justin says something about the miracle they pulled off, getting us all on a train after a delay of about 5 hours.  You can be delayed at an airport for 5 hours for a lot less than a fire.  

The girl says, "wait.  After all, it IS a Spanish train."

Another half hour in, they announce in French, and then in Spanish, that the ticket price will be refunded 100%.  Except for the almost complete lack of information, the train line did everything they could.  Justin's guess is that they knew that the train was on fire, but they wanted to get as close to the next station as possible without it exploding so that people wouldn't have to walk miles to get to shelter.  The town preserved order, kept people safe, hydrated and fed, and got us on another train that day.  And then, without any pressure from the media or anyone else, gave everyone a refund.  Even with this huge inconvenience, there's nothing to complain about.