It started out well enough. There were a few delays, but the train was surprisingly empty - we practically had an entire wagon to ourselves. Nick stayed in contact the entire time, reassuring me that he’d meet me at the train station. But things started to get a bit more complicated as I got further into the countryside. I began to regularly lose reception on my cell phone - so I couldn’t keep in contact. There were also further delays and it was incredibly dark outside - the sliver of a moon was masked behind clouds.

 

After 5.5 hours I knew we were getting close to our destination, but I didn’t know how close - time was all thrown off because of the delays. Additionally, these silly Romanian trains lacked any indication of approaching stations. There was no flashing light announcing the “next stop” or kind voice broadcasting destinations. The exterior signs as we approached each station  were always either poorly lit or non-existent. Essentially you had to know when to get off based on previous experience - which I lacked. On top of everything my phone was rapidly losing battery.

 

And I started to get pretty anxious. As we began to slow for the next stop, I looked around for someone, anyone, to help. I spotted a gaunt man smoking a cigarette near the door of the train and asked him what stop this was. He looked at me with suddenly wide, gaping eyes and then shrugged. Okay, he doesn’t speak English, I thought to myself. Then I tried to pronounce the name of the town I was looking for, which I totally butchered. Again he shrugged and mumbled something in Romanian.

 

So what was I to do… my phone was about to die. I had no idea if I was in the right place or not… but I might be - at least I’m close?! So I began shoving my things in my bag and I attempted to cajole Stewart into his travel carrier. Then the train began moving again. It had literally stopped for 60 seconds.

 

Then I went into panic mode. I don’t know where I am. I need to get off this train. My phone is almost dead. I’m going to be stranded in this foreign land.

 

The train was moving quite slow to start, so I figured a disembark would be pretty simple. And it could’ve been. But first, I’d like to take a minute to highlight the false picture pop-culture and modern media paints when it comes to moving trains. Namely this lovely scene from Water for Elephants, one of my favorite books that is now a major motion picture, featuring my favorite actress, Reese Witherspoon.

 

Anyways, my departure was far from romantic. I jumped out of the train okay - we were still moving quite slow. I landed on two feet with something resembling grace. But Stewart (the more intelligent half of this duo) was not having it. And then the train doors started to close. Somehow Romanian trains are just old enough to lack a proper system for identifying train stops, yet are modern enough to have automated doors.

 

So the gaunt Romanian man was still at the door and we were both quickly realizing the pickle that I’d gotten myself in to. He jumped in to help. The door was only being kept open by my small suitcase, which was effectively stuck. I had to let go of Stewart’s leash as the train picked up speed and I could no longer keep up. My dog and my luggage were both still in the car. Never have I ever felt such dread. I actually almost didn’t share this story because I was so embarrassed and angry at myself for the whole situation.

 

Yet, there is a good ending, so why not share the lessons I learned and hopefully, spur a few chuckles. But before that, the climax of the story…

 

So, I was full on sprinting after the train, and screaming Stewart’s name. I’m not much of an athlete and I mostly wear shoes with a bit of a heel. But I ran like there was fire under my ass. And thankfully I was wearing what I had dubbed “my new favorite travel shoes” - these flat, lace-up, Havaianas espadrilles - super comfy and very chic. But evidently not practical enough.

 

It wasn’t my climatic leap from the train that caused injury. It was, in fact, my “sensible” fashion choice and unnerving clumsiness which brought me to this fate. Mid stride I simultaneously tripped on an undone shoelace and spied the man as he tossed Stewart flying out of the moving train. I came down on the uneven and rocky concrete with a definite thud, face first. Thankfully, Stewart was unharmed and immediately ran to me. As I slowly lifted myself up, I noted a pool of blood on the ground. Pain was mostly absent, thanks to the adrenaline and other funky, panic-induced chemicals coursing through my veins. Seconds later I was bombarded with the syrupy thick Romanian language as fellow passengers presumably asked if I was okay.