Panic. The bus leaves in five minutes. Panic. You have to switch trains in five minutes and the other train is way on the other side of the statio,n and you have never been here before. Here you are, alone. Ha ha, hope you make it. The next one leaves in two hours. Panic. The bus schedule said that if you got on the bus at 7.10 you would be at your destination at about 7.55 and, the way you had planned it, you would be in time for class. Nnow the bus is late, and class has already started. Panic. You have a dentist’s appointment, parents don’t go with you once you’re 16, and now you have to remember where the dentist’s office is…

I ordered high school this year, not college. Everyday I go through something new and stressful, and it gets worse when it looks like everyone else has been doing it since they were kids. I don’t really consider myself a stressful person, but when I look at the calm faces of people around me when I am about to miss the train, I can’t believe they could be thinking about what to make for supper that evening when I’m wondering if I’ll ever make it to my destination. It’s even worse when I get onto the train to see that calm-faced lady who was walking, coolly, to her destination behind me when I sprinted past her to check the screen searching, desperately, for my train. The worst part is, after all my stressing out, she is still on the train before me. Ummm… I must have missed something. The screen just made me even more confused, and this lady didn’t even look at it – she just got right on to the bus.

It’s ok, it’s ok. She’s probably been riding the train every weekend since she was six and she’s used to it, I keep telling myself. Then, as I am about to get on the train, I ask a girl behind me if this is the train that goes to Uddevala, just to be sure.

“I don’t know. Think so. Hope so.” Aha. Thanks for the help.

At the train station it really seemed like everyone had, in fact, been born at the train station and that they have been lugging bags onto wagon # 12 looking for seat #63 since they were “knee-high to a grasshopper.” I ask the conductor where I might be able to find my seat and she punches a hole in my ticket as she points quickly. I walk/trip my way what is, supposedly, wagon 13 to get to wagon 12. The train bumps and shakes, and I’m terrified to have to walk through the part between the two wagons. When I get to the neighboring wagon I see men in suits, people with laptops and a lady with huge pearl earrings. I don’t have to look at the sign saying “Business Class” to know that I will not be finding seat # 63 in this wagon. After a few questioning glances shot in my direction, I make my way back.

By this time I have passed through this wagon (the one I think is wagon 13) three times and people are beginning to either look at me in a funny way or laugh under their breath. when the conductor pointed – was she indicating a trap door? … because I don’t know where I am supposed to go! This time, on my way through, I’ve decided to look at the numbers above each seat. This can be a good thing to do when looking for your seat… and I find it. I’ve walked past #63 three times, but is it wagon #12? At this point, I have no pride (the pearl earrings lady took it from me) and I ask, out loud-to everyone in the wagon, “Is this wagon 12??” A few people look up, two people say “Ja,” and I sit down, lean my head against the window. This was my first time on a train all by myself and I handled it quite well. Ok, not as well as I had hoped, and that conductor is probably going to tell about that stupid girl who kept walking around and past her seat three times…she’ll tell all her conductor friends at lunch that day, and they’ll all laugh at me. At that point, I start to think about something else; I have to take the train home…

Here comes the cheesiest way to end today’s article: To Be Conitnued

Got a better way to end this article and just want to laugh at my try? Or just want to say hello?

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