The epic train ride, round one: Gruyères

*Famous last words*

"You know, I'm so impressed with the Swiss train system. It's just so easy! My mom was right. They're always on time and they're pretty clean," said Marki, after her first three days of training around Switzerland.

"Yeah, I know. The Swiss trains rock! God, almost too easy sometimes..."

Then this happened...

Waiting ever-so patiently for our train to arrive in Gruyère to go back to Montbovon (we had to switch trains once in Montbovon to get back to Montreux), we were slightly distracted by the really really cool Swiss teenagers lighting up and blowing smoke directly into our faces. According to our schedule, our train was supposed to arrive at 3:59pm. And just like usual, the train rolled to a stop at precisely the correct time. We hopped on, found some seats, and proceeded to get comfortable. Two minutes later, another train traveling in the opposite direction stopped at the station. Wait a minute...

"Pardon, monsieur. Est-ce que ce train va aller à Montbovon?" I asked anxiously to the guy sitting behind us.

"No. À Lausanne." He replied without a smile or reaction of any sort.

"Shit, Marki, we have to get off. We're on the wrong train. That's the one we want," extending my finger to point to the train just five feet away on the next track over.

We booked it for the door and I pressed the open-sesame button furiously just in time for our train to start moving in the wrong direction.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Fuck! Shit!" Yes, this all came out of my mouth along with a few more well-chosen words. And those lovely little Swiss teenagers I mentioned thought our paniced faces were hil-arious because they could not stop laughing. Assholes. Without another option, Marki and I reclaimed our seats and got comfortable while trying to hatch a new plan with a train schedule that did nothing to help us since we had no clue as to where the hell we were going.

Finally, I asked a nice kid guy a few seats away how we could get back to Montreux. We had to take the train to the end of the route, then switch and take another to Lausanne and from there, catch a train to Montreux. No biggie except that I only had a ticket for the Montreux-Montbovon-Gruyères route (Marki's Swiss Rail pass granted her a free ride on any and all Swiss trains--yeah, slightly jealous). Trying to decide when to make our next move, we sat, me anxiously looking at my watch every twenty seconds trying to estimate when we could potentially arrive in Montreux. Thankfully, we had left plenty of time to get back, so I didn't need to freak out about being late. Instead, I focused all my energy on praying that no conductor came and asked for tickets. Please please please, train gods. I just need this one thing. I promise to be good to you! Pinkie swear!

Twenty minutes and no conductor later (hooray!), we arrived in Bulle. Now, to stay on the train or not? Gamble the no-ticket/we-got-on-the-wrong-train excuse or disembark? And like one of those annoying, low-flying planes that repeatedly circles streaming a long banner behind it across the sky, all that kept repeating in my brain was: This is bullshit! Bullshit Bulle! Ultimately, I made the executive decision to abandon the Lausanne idea and see if we could a train back to Gruyères and then continue on the same route we originally wanted to take, just an hour later. And a good decision it was. The train would get us in 15 minutes before I had to start work. Slightly stressful, yes, but I could handle it.

Marki and I got coffee and walked around Bulle, taking advantage of the time to see another no-so-planned stop during our afternoon. Really, could the city be named anything else more appropriate?? It was actually quite charming, I will admit. And we did catch the train back to Gruyères, going in the right direction. Whew.

Oh, but don't worry. My story is not over...

We got off the train in Montbovon and along with a number of other people going to Montreux, we waited for the next train to arrive. It did, on time and at platform 1, just as the schedule said it would. We boarded feeling confident and relieved. Waaa waa waaaaaaaaaa.

"No, this train is going to Chateau d'Oex," responded the conductor when the people next to us handed him their train tickets to Montreux.

No. Fucking. Way. This cannot be happening. Marki and I took one look at each other and both started laughing. Hard.

Mustering up my strength and ignoring the fact that my stomach at just dropped down to my toes, I asked, "So how and when can we get back to Montreux?"

The kind conductor (and fyi, this is a rarity as most ticket-checking personnel wear permanently angry and bothered expressions) told us where to change trains and that we would get in at 7:15pm.

Fuck. Double fuck. I work at 6:30.

Using Marki's iPhone (which I intend to include in my "what are you thankful for" speech on Thanksgiving), we looked up the hotel number online and I called to let my co-workers know that I would be late. Steve told me not to worry at all. No reservations, no problem. That out of the way, we proceeded to dissect the situation and figure out what we did wrong.

Fact 1: Both trains were late, which is why we got without hesitation. The trains are always on time in Switzerland, right? Wrong.

Fact 2: Because some of these train stations (they shouldn't really be called stations at all) are so small, there are no personnel and nothing is well marked or even marked at all. Then how the hell are you supposed to know which train is which if you can't figure out the number or letter of the platform without blatantly assuming and getting yourself into trouble?

Fact 3: We are not idiots. Or at least we were not alone in being idiots since six (or more) other people were waiting at the Chateau d'Oex platform for the train to Montreux after also taking the wrong train from Montbovon.

And believe it or not, we did make it back to Montreux at 7:15pm. Only three hours after our initially planned arrival time. Oh! And one crazy thing... While walking around Chateau d'Oex (a really cute mountain village known as being the place where Bernard Piccard and Brian Jones took flight in the first successful non-stop hot air balloon ride around the world), Marki and I met an old Canadian couple who knew and had visited Coeur d'Alene. They were adorable. Maybe meeting them was the sole reason for why our train mishap happened in the first place. Like it was all supposed to happen that way.

Go figure. At least our afternoon to Gruyères and back proved didn't disappoint. And on the memory scale? I'm going to say that this would be pretty high up there. Maybe not hot air balloon status, but close nonetheless.