Day 48
Location 13: Paris
Dec. 18, 2022
Starting precisely at 2:40am, the next 31 hours and 38 minutes of my life would be spent traveling (quite indirectly) from Copenhagen, Denmark to Paris, France.
As the cliché goes, the 31+ hours journey was not a sprint, but a marathon. And I'm one of those runners that should’ve taken their training more seriously in the months preceding the race because now you’re watching me on TV at mile 19 bent over as a few drops of puke spill out the corner of my mouth while a fresh, wet pile of my half-digested breakfast sits at my feet, having just been catapulted out of me moments ago. In other words, the trip was exhausting and I was ill-prepared.
Here we go:
2:40AM: Wake up in my Copenhagen hostel to head to the train station.
2:56AM: Ride a train from Copenhagen to my connection train station in Fredericia, Denmark.
5:09AM: Wait in Fredericia train station for my connecting train.
My smiles channel the delirium resulting from lack of sleep. My brain enjoys dizzy, happy confusion.
5:49AM: Ride a train from Fredericia to Aarhus, Denmark train station.
7:21AM: Arrive at Aarhus, Denmark train station.
9:11AM (never forget): Ride a bus from Aarhus stop (which I had to run to from the train station in order not to miss said bus) to Billund Airport.
Almost missing my bus is when the first drops of stress started seeping through the cracks of my mental state. Luckily, I noticed it was 9:11am (make a wish!) which provided me a burst of energy.
11:02AM: Arrive at Billund Airport.
12:42PM: Ride flight from Billund to Brussels, Belgium.
3:28PM: Arrive at and ride bus from Brussels Charleroi Airport to Brussel Midi train station.
4:37PM: Ride train from Brussel Midi to Brussel Centraal train station.
Look at the 3rd photo below. You can start to see my smile subtly dampening. Luckily, up next is finally my train to Paris!
We’ve reached mile 19. Right now is the moment where the aforementioned consequences of my lack of aerobic training (planning) play out (fuck me over). While attempting to purchase a ticket for a train from the Brussel Centraal train station to the Paris Nord station, my legs turn to jello and my lungs feel like sat-upon whoopee cushions (I’m informed that all the trains for the day are sold out).
My only option is to make the 55 hour walk to Paris or book a hostel for the night and take a train in the morning. Despite my desperate stubbornness, I choose the latter.
6:39PM: Arrive at Brussel hostel.
It's clear my smile has now fully transitioned into daze and confusion. Alright, alright, alright.
I actually booked the same hostel from the last time I was in Brussels a few days earlier. The check-in exchange was amusing: “have you stayed with us before” the lady asked. “Haha yea, on Tuesday”.
7:32AM (next day): Ride train from Brussel Centraal to Paris Nord train station.
I muster up the best smile I have available in my arsenal but the result is a look of “I don’t like you, please stop talking to me” aimed at no one in particular.
