German Public Transport...
Many moons ago, I was fortunate enough to live in the German city of Munich. Well, technically, a reasonable sized 'dorf' outside of Munich, a little place called Gauting. It was a lovely idyllic little town, with a nice little railway station which linked it to the City - part of the "S-Bahn" infrastructure. Almost identical to the tube system, but mostly overground, until you reach Munich proper.

Munich, renowned as a City of great culture, and Beer. The Oktoberfest rolls into town every year, at the last two weeks of September, and the first couple of days of Oktober. The breweries bring out the special beer, and drunkness descends upon the city.

It's worth a visit. You've not lived until you've seen a city get pissed en masse, and peacefully at that.

Anyway, during my yearly pilgrimage to the alter of beery drunken-ness, it would entail complete reliance upon the efficient, cheap, German public transport system. This was always flawless on the way to the 'fest.

I should probably share one of my problems with you now. I'm a sympathetic vomiter. The sight, smell, or sound of barf, and I begin my own technicolour wonder-yawn.

Imagine the Scene - Young Ryushin leaves the HB Haus (one of the larger beer tents, popular with the tourists and english speaking crowd), pleasantly steaming, and walks, mostly sideways, back to the S-Bahn station to get back on the last train out of Munich. As this is the last train, it's heaving. Being the end of September in Munich, it's also Hot.

It began almost as soon as I got on the train. The stench of sick, as people had liberally thrown up on the train throughout the evening. I tried, in vain, to block it out by breathing through my mouth. I noticed that some other people were starting to go a little green in the face. Then, from the back:

"Hngrrrl.... Hukk.... BAAAARF!!" - Oh fuck.

The distinctive sound that spew makes as it hits the ground rang through the carridge, and the passangers began to swell towards the exit door and the next carridge, hoping to avoid the puddle of barf ebbing towards their feet.

Being caught up in the throng, I had no choice but to move with them, being pushed away, whilst choking down my own bile.

The carridge we moved into was already crowded, and someone had done the same in there.

And the next carridge, and the next one....

Every. Single. Carridge.

Puke on the walls, seats, floor. People being actively sick amid the layer of stale puke in the train. The September heat making the stench unbearable.

Amid all this, I had moved into the dangerous territory of Just-about-to-cry-huey. I looked at the people stood around me, a mute pleading in my eyes as I felt the first wave move towards its final destination: The train floor. Fortunately, they were smart, and I was rapidly moved to the outer edge of the crowd, near one of the larger puddles of vom, and there, I hurled. I hurled, and hurled, and once more for good luck. I threw up my toe-nails. I threw up meals I hadn't eaten yet.

I then had to spend 20 minutes dry-retching on a train, amid looks from passengers of equal parts sympathy and disgust, until I arrived at my train station, and got out.

Fresh air never tasted so good.

Apologies for length, but my right hand has never once complained.
(Ryushin, Fri 30 May 2008, 12:09, 1 reply)

I lolled

(Super Jet Shoes, Fri 30 May 2008, 18:53, closed)