No reservations

Today I reached a new level of spontaneity: weekend train travel without a seat reservation. This came as a result of being unable to make an internet reservation rather than from any strong desire for fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants adventures. On the train I took from Hamburg to Köln (that’s Cologne for you non-German speakers), there was some kind of glitch in their reservation system, the exact nature of which I couldn’t quite decipher from the German coming over the loudspeaker, which resulted in every seat being marked “Reserved,” without any indication as to where the seatholder might be getting on or off the train.

Finding and keeping a seat is really more a game of chance than of skill. You find a seat without a jacket or other placeholder marking it, first furtively glancing around to make sure nobody with a ticket in hand is looking meaningfully toward your chosen spot. At every station (and there were 8 between Hamburg and Köln), your heart beats a little faster as you watch people board the train looking for their reserved seats. Polite words are exchanged: “Excuse me, but I believe you’re in my seat.” “Oh, am I? So sorry, I’ll get right of your way.”

Today I was lucky; I only had to move twice, and one of those times was not so much because I was in someone else’s seat as it was because of the overwhelming smell of vinegar coming off the man next to me. At each station, as I watched the routine play out between my fellow passengers, I sat smugly in my seat as if I belonged there.

I was feeling pretty proud of myself for beating the system, sticking it to the man, etc., until I heard the train attendant talking to the guy in front of me. He was headed to Paris, but not only was he traveling without a reservation, he was also without a ticket or any money with which to buy one. And he had the audacity to try out this maneuver in First Class.

Now that’s spontaneity.