Lost in Transit

On Saturday, my friends Loriane and Ludo invited me out to their flat in Cergy.  I decided that I would prefer to come back home the same evening so I could soak in the outdoor market atmosphere that makes Sunday afternoons so enjoyable.  Off to Cergy, relax with friends and a few cocktails, take the last  train from Cergy to Gare St. Lazare at midnight.  Door-to-door in an hour. Pas de probleme!

As I hopped out of the car at Cergy Prefecture station at 11:55pm, I already knew I was asking for trouble.  Before I had left their flat, Ludo had told me to call him if I missed the train and I was more than welcome to stay.  After two attempts using the automated-ticket-buying-confusing-as-hell machine, I received my ticket, popped through the gate and just as I came down the stairs to the platform, my train home was pulling in.

Just three hours earlier I had taken the same train out to Cergy and had to stand because all the seats were taken.  Now, within the next three cars at least, there was only myself and one other couple.  I thought to myself I thought I remembered the train going in the other direction last time? Rushing my French, I asked the couple if I was headed the right way.  NON! They shouted (in French) "you had better get off at the next stop and get to the platform on the other side." 

Now I'm further outside of Paris standing on a 400yard platform that is completely empty, save for me and a 8oz can, yes can, of wine.  Luckily within 14min, my train arrived, and I was headed in the right direction. I knew, however, that heading the wrong way for 5min would cause me to miss my connection at Conflans fin d'Oise, which by the way, is still way out in the 'burbs.  On the train, which was a ghost town on tracks, I asked the only person I saw if there was a connection to Paris.  I already knew the answer, but fortunately, for the price of one Gauloises, he was nice enough to take me to the FREE bus (for idiots who miss their trains).

After waiting 30min, we all five of us were on a free bus back to Paris.  Not quickly, however, as our bus driver like to stop every ten minutes and get out for a cigarette.  As we pull into a large park-and-ride type bus stop, the bus driver gets into an all-out screaming match with four of his co-workers, takes off in a huff, drives us around whatever town we were in and comes back to that bus stop a half an hour later.  These fellow bus drivers inform our driver, that he needs to get us to Gare St. Lazare and stop fucking about!! I concur!

In Paris, we arrive near the scene of an accident where the police have stopped thru traffic.  Our driver informs us politely to "get the fuck off the bus.  End of the line."  After the police open the road, he picks us up three blocks later, which was nice since we had two and a half miles to go.  We finally arrive at Gare St. Lazare....and in a timely...oh la la...TWO AND A HALF HOURS!!  The famous "last metro" had come and gone long ago, and I was stuck with a 20euro cab ride back to the 11e.

I decided to post this story as more of a warning than entertainment.  If you are in a country where the language is your second language, never take the "last" anything.  Metro, train, bus, cab, handsome cab, ect! Take the second to last option and leave yourself a little time cushion.  If I did not speak enough French, I would've been stuck 40 miles out of the city, at 1:00am in a less than desireable area with everthing closed.

By the time I got to sleep, had I stayed in Cergy, Loriane would've had a nice espresso and pain au chocolat waiting for me as I woke up.  In a foreign country, always accept the hospitality of other, especially at midnight!