Today was the day for me to head for Switzerland. I had originally planned to meet my folks in Saas-Fee, but I decided to leave a day early because of rain and the surprise factor. What should have been a simple travel day, however, turned out to be a frantic race against time to catch the last train.

Michael, Carlos, and I leisurely packed up our things and departed late from our suite, around 10am, for Bolzano. I’d catch the 12:30 train to Zurich, and Michael and Carlos would drive north for a quick hike before heading back to Munich.

We arrived at the Bolzano train station with plenty of time to buy a ticket.

First things first, I go to fetch my passport from the usual place – it’s not there. Immediately, a flash of worry comes over me. I never put my passport any other place when I travel. I have a system. Otherwise, things start to disappear. Where is it? Instantly, I know – it’s in San Martino!

See, Italy has this absurd anti terror law which requires you fork over your passport if you want to access the internet. Every time you want to check your stupid hotmail account, you hand them your passport, they copy it and they either hand it back to you, or they keep it. This time, at the hotel across from our suite, the receptionist kept it (which she usually didn’t do), and didn’t give it back. It slipped my mind to ask for it back when I left. OK, so it’s partly my fault, but still. Somehow, I think this law has done nothing to prevent terrorism.

I announced to Michael and Carlos my theory. “Let’s try to call and see if they have it” was the suggestion. We found a pay phone and I started pumping in Euros. Between the sudden “out of order” messages that would appear after I’d made a call and the difficulty in finding the number for the hotel across the street (we’d gotten a fax number from the hotel we stayed at), we made no progress. We checked the train schedules; the last train was at 4:30pm. I had about 4 hours to catch it. Obviously, I had to get my passport; I knew it was there, even though we had no confirmation. So, we decided I’d take Michael’s car, go retrieve the passport, drive back, park the car, meet Michael at 4:30, hand over the keys, and catch the train. If I missed it, I could always leave in the morning and race to Switzerland. I really wanted to go today; otherwise, much worrying would ensue.

So, I left Bolazano like a bat out of hell. In retrospect, this probably wasn’t the best idea, but I made it work. I raced quickly, miraculously avoided the traffic we experienced on the way in, and made carefully calculated passes around numerous busses on one-laned mountain roads multiple times. Listening music couldn’t be audio books or even thunderous Wagner; I had to drive to the shredding of Racer X. I was back at the hotel in under two hours. I ran in and immediately the receptionists started up, handed over my passport with numerous apologies (no condemnation was in order, we bothed messed up and were victims of the laws of terror). I then repeated the process backwards, this time perhaps even faster than the last. I opted for the Autobahn on the way back outside of Bolzano which, I believe, gave me a extra few minutes. I parked the car, memorized the parking spot number (107!), and ran to the ticket office. While still breathless, Michael showed up. I’d bought a ticket in just enough time; I had about 4 minutes to catch the train. I bade farewell, jumped on the train and tried to relax.

There was one problem. My ticket showed one train change – in Innsbruck, Austria. I made that one no problem. However, another one, not listed mind you, was needed in Feldkirk. When I arrived in Dornbirn, I asked the conductor who informed me of the truth. At this point, it was about 9pm. I caught the train going back to Feldkirk, but it was a slow one, stopping numerous times. By the time I reached Feldkirk, around 10:30pm, I’d missed the last train to Zurich. The next direct train was at 6:46am. OK, that’s manageable. There was nothing to do now but sleep in the train station or find a hotel. Since there were revelers crowding the train terminal chanting some sort of sports anthem, I decided on the hotel. Just kidding, I’m not that cheap. Really.

It was pouring out, but I had my crappy cheap white umbrella I bought in Italy for about 7 times the price of one in China. I walked a few blocks and found a place. It was a small dingy joint and the office was the smoke-filled bar. I said, “Hotel”, and the bartender went into the back The manager, I assume, then emerged and sold me a key for 50 Euro (thankfully, Michael didn’t want me to pay him back yet otherwise I would have had to hunt down a money machine; I only had 55 Euro on me and they only accepted cash). The room was comfortable and clean enough. And the internet connection was great for once (actually, I don’t think it was theirs). And, I didn’t have to turn over my passport! I set the alarm on my razor thin (this fact is important) mobile phone for 6:00 and went to sleep. I awoke at 6:51. The razor thin battery has very little life and search all night for a signal had sapped the battery. Damnit!!!

It was still raining as I made my way to the train station. There was no direct train until 10:46 and everyone in Zurich was planning to leave for Visp at 11:00. That obviously wasn’t enough time. Thankfully, there was a slower train leaving around 8:30. I had to make about 4 changes, but they were all printed out for me. I timed it nicely; showing up at 10:23. After wandering about the Zurich station for less than a minute, I saw my dad and Pat. Surprise!!!