Bla bla bleh (English)

Para la versión en español, dar clic aquí.

I wanted to record this anecdote for a long while. It was originally delivered as a humorous speech at my Toastmasters club here in Nuremberg but I lost my notes. On the aniversary of the event, I finally gathered the courage to write it down. I would be delighted to read your opinion on the comments section.
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Nuremberg, Sunday July 30th 2017 - 11 am

I checked my cellphone and saw I had 3 missed calls. "Finally they're getting in touch", I thought. I called back. A woman's voice answered in German: "Excuse me, I'm looking for my husband".

WHAT!?

I was dumbstruck. I frowned, somehow mumbled in German that I had dialed the wrong number and hung up.

Had I really dialed the wrong number? I compared the outgoing call on the call history. It was the same number as the day before.

My smartphone rang; it was the same number. I picked up.

"I'm looking for my husband. You booked a trip with him to depart tomorrow from Nuremberg. I am in Romania but my cellphone is linked to his and he hasn't yet gotten in touch to confirm the departure time".

Ma'am! If you don't know where your husband is, neither do I! Anyway, I assured her that if the driver got in touch with me, I'd tell him to call her.

Man, what a mess. I checked the Blablacar booking (a car-sharing app) to travel from Nuremberg to Vienna. Departure at noon, meeting point to discuss with the driver. Being the cheapest option, I had chosen to travel via Blablacar. Changing my mind and buying a bus ticket the day before traveling would cost a lot of money. I entrusted myself to destiny.
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Nuremberg, Monday July 31st 2017 - 12pm

I went out the metro station and found myself at the main entrance of the railway station, surrounded by the construction site. It had been like that for months but the driver insisted on meeting there as a central point, which should have told me the man was not from the area.

Luckily, I found him fast. He was an older sir, with a white beard and glasses, probably around 60 years old. He had a large blue van, kinda ramshackle, with license plates from Romania, which made sense as his final destination was Satu Mare. Being the first passenger, I rode shotgun. We would pick up the next passenger in Schwabach, a city 20 km south of Nuremberg.

As I lack conversation skills and had a long road ahead of me, I started to make small talk with the driver. Fortunately for me, he only spoke German, so it was practice time. Besides the routine introduction questions, to make the conversation agreeable I related my recent return to the city after being a semester abroad at Budapest, even managing to learn a bit of the oh-so difficult Hungarian.

These words worked like a charm. If he already liked me, the old man now trusted me.

He told me Satu Mare used to be part of Hungary and he also spoke Hungarian but his family descended from the old Germans that had settled there. He followed up by asking me about my experience in Budapest and I went on and on relating my amazing time there (it had barely been a month, I was still elated).

"Szép város?"
"Igen, nagyon szép város :)"

We continued talking about places in the city and its sights.

"Do you want to know what's the best thing in town?" he asked me.
"Sure, what is it?" I replied, anxious to learn something new about the city.
"The 'Hit" Christian community ('hit' means faith in hungarian)."

F*ck. Just what I needed. A proselytizing Christian.
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Schwabach, Monday July 31st 2017 - 1:30 pm

Once in Schwabach, I helped the driver find the address of the 2nd passenger. She was also an old lady going all the way to Satu Mare, but she only spoke hungarian, therefore our conversation was restricted to a greeting.

We also made another stop, where the driver latched a trailer to the van. Shit. It is forbidden to drive over 80 km/h with trailers. Besides, we would pick up a 3rd passenger in Ingolstadt. I started to think this man had no hurry to reach his destination but rather cared to cover the travel expenses.

Back on the highway, the old man picked up his evangelizing speech, now externalizing his archaic and close-minded opinion on homosexuals. What should I do?  Reply to his nonsense and risk antagonizing with him for the rest of the trip? I bit my tongue, looked out of the window on my right and focused my sight on the trees along the way. I fell asleep within minutes.
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Ingolstadt, Monday July 31st 2017 - 3 pm

I woke up as we stopped at a supermarket. The driver had some shopping to do before going back to Romania. Besides, we had to wait until 4pm to pick up the next passenger. A long hour to go.

I bottled up my frustration and took the chance to stretch my legs. When the old man came back he was carrying several detergent boxes and house cleaning products. It reminded me of the flea markets in Monterrey, where you can find products brought from the USA. He also bought chocolate-covered vanilla ice cream bars, which he invited the old lady and me, even receiving double portion.

The clock finally struck 4 and we picked up the last passenger. He was a younger man, also going to Satu Mare and only spoke rumanian. With everybody now on board, we resumed the journey. Thinking of it, kinda sounds like the start of a joke: a german man, a hungarian lady, a rumanian guy and a mexican girl are in a van...

When traveling from Nuremberg to the northeast of Austria, the fastest way is taking the A3 via Passau. As you may notice on the map, going to Schwabach and Ingolstadt was quite a detour. To reach again the highway in Regensburg we took the 2-lane secondary road. During rush hour. Traffic moved sluggishly.

On a side note, I had enough time to discover we were crossing one of the biggest hop-growing regions in the entire world.

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Linz, Monday July 31st 2017 - 7:30 pm

I don't remember how many times I dozed off, in part to avoid talking. I had been traveling for 7 hours on a trip that should not last more than 6 and a half. Near Linz, the driver made another detour and drove into the city to charge petrol, as prices are cheaper than on the highway. Tadeo, my host in Vienna, got in contact and asked me when I would arrive. I looked at the clock and took a deep breath. It wouldn't be before 10pm.
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A1 highway, Monday July 31st 2017 - 10 pm

As it was late and dark, the driver offered to drop me wherever I wanted. He turned on the navigator and I typed Tadeo's address. About 40 km before Vienna the highway splits, with the A1 continuing straight into the capital and the A21 surrounding the city from the south. Guess which one we took?

I was madly pissed off. I couldn't stand it anymore. The driver had the navi on and still took the wrong exit. I always try to be a good co-pilot and not meddle with anybody's driving but this time it was way too much. I took my smartphone, typed in Tadeo's address in Google Maps and closely followed every instruction given by the navi. If the driver hesitated, I immediately pointed out the right street.

Finally, after one hour crossing Vienna from south to north, I made it to my destination. Putting up my very best face, I grabbed my bag and paid the driver (he provided a service anyways). Fortunately, Tadeo greeted me with some delicious barbacoa burritos and my anger receded with every bite I took.

The next morning I got a call from the same number as in the beginning of this story. I didn't pick up and blocked the number. It shall stay forever as a missed call.