Ten Little Chances to be Free (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tenlittlebullets) wrote2009-12-20 05:42 pm
tenlittlebullets) wrote2009-12-20 05:42 pm
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Did I tempt fate or something?
So when I was joking about "Tomorrow to Calais, then a ship across the sea" I didn't mean it literally! But I did, indeed, get Calais and a ship across the sea, and I did not get Les Mis.
It all started when they closed the Channel tunnel due to weather, see, and my Eurostar train got cancelled. There I was standing like an idiot in the Gare du Nord staring at the announcement, overheard an employee telling people that the entire tunnel was closed and we could exchange our tickets for anytime within the next two months. I flailed a bit, called![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
toi_marguerite who was flying to London, decided to take the RER out to the airport to see if I could get last-minute tickets for the next flight. Managed to find a flight on the Giant List O' Departures, locate the airline's ticket office, and secure a spot in line... then I noticed that I had advanced maybe three spots in fifteen minutes, there were ten people ahead of me, the flight left in an hour and a half, and the check-in/security lines were snaking all the way around the terminal. So no dice on flying to London.
Back I go to the train station, thinking vaguely that if the tunnel is closed the only ways to get to London are by air or by sea, and air is not possible. I know nothing about the Calais ferry or how to get to London from Dover; I pop by the information booth and there is no one there; I pop by the ticket windows and the line is an hour long; finally I end up at an automatic ticket-selling machine. I poke around to see if there are any trains to Calais. There is one, it's not too expensive, it leaves soon and goes directly there, but my American credit and debit cards do not work in the machine. My French debit card will probably work, but the account may or may not have enough in it for a ticket depending on whether certain deposits have gone through. I turn around and get back on the Metro to go home. Metro platform is crowded and miserable and I really don't want to give up and face more of the same shit tomorrow... so I square my shoulders, turn around, and march back to the ticket machine, determined to embark on a Mad Adventure. If my life were a movie this is where the dramatic soundtrack would kick in. I buy my ticket, possibly overdraw my account, and get on the train for Calais.
The train ride goes smoothly until, somewhere north of Lille, it starts snowing again. And keeps snowing. And turns into a blizzard condition. When I get to Calais I find out that the train station is not within walking distance of the city, let alone the port. The shuttle into town has been cancelled due to the weather; several people have called for taxis, so we all stand around and wait. And wait. And watch gendarmes evict a guy having a psychotic episode. And wait some more. There are three other people--one American girl and a French couple--bound for the ferry and when the taxi finally comes, we all pile in and agree to split the cost. We are about to become partners in crime for the rest of the journey.
The ferry is the most horribly-organized nightmare imaginable. One person doing ticket sales, even though it's a lengthy process involving passport verification, it's the weekend before Christmas, and the tunnel has just been closed. Once you have your ticket, you can't just walk onto the ferry; you have to catch a BUS that takes you through border control and onto the ferry. Said bus is supposed to come ten or fifteen minutes before the ferry's scheduled departure. We just barely miss the 6:10 ferry and wait... and wait... there is only one bus. He should be back by now. We are going to miss the 7:25 ferry. We have been waiting outside so as not to lose our places in line to a huge school group; it is way below freezing, windy, and the ground is covered with slush that manages to soak in through everyone's shoes. We wait some more. I lose the ability to feel my toes. The ticket-office employees refuse to tell us anything, are incredibly rude, and appear to blame the influx of resourceful Eurostar refugees for the staff's own incompetence. Finally at 8:15 or so the bus shows up again, there is a STAMPEDE to get on it, and our little group makes it to the doors just as they're shutting. So we wait. Some more. People keep stepping on my frostbitten feet. The bus, by some miracle, comes back at 8:30 or so; we've been waiting in below-freezing weather for over two hours. No apology, no explanation, only glares.
To their credit, they do make the ferry wait until everyone has been bused on board. At this point we are all utterly miserable; once we get into the warmth our feet stop being numb and start hurting like fuck; I haven't eaten since I wolfed down a baguette at the train station in the morning. FINALLY good news arrives: the American girl of our little group gets a call from her parents, who live in London and are picking her up in Dover, and have offered us all a ride. This is good since there are no Dover-London train tickets left.
At 10:30 British time, 11:30 European time, we drag our sorry butts into Dover... and get another call. Our ride is stuck in traffic. Every truck that would normally take the tunnel is currently PARKED on the highway into Dover, waiting for the ferry. We clear customs and wait for another few hours in the Dover ferry station, which thankfully has functioning heat.
At last our ride gets close enough for us to walk out (with all our suitcases) and meet them on the side of the highway. Six people in a car made for five, but hey, it's the bloody Ritz-Carlton after the Calais ferry terminal. I think I must've dozed off for most of the drive, but we did at some point all exchange contact information and if I can get a hold of this girl and her parents, I am totally taking them out to lunch later this week. That ride saved my sanity.
Arrived at approximately 2:30 in the morning, and poortoi_marguerite had to stay up to let me in. And lend me pajamas because the bottom of my suitcase got soaked by slush and mine were damp and cold. BUT I MADE IT.
In retrospect it was an awesome adventure, but I am now SO SO THANKFUL for how easy the Eurostar is. Moral of the story: the P&O ferry in Calais is made of suck.
What I have to show for all this: two frostbitten feet, a lot of aches and pains from holding and dragging heavy suitcases all across creation, an exchangeable Eurostar ticket, and unused and useless Les Mis ticket, three new friendships forged in the fire of necessity, and bragging rights.
It all started when they closed the Channel tunnel due to weather, see, and my Eurostar train got cancelled. There I was standing like an idiot in the Gare du Nord staring at the announcement, overheard an employee telling people that the entire tunnel was closed and we could exchange our tickets for anytime within the next two months. I flailed a bit, called
toi_marguerite who was flying to London, decided to take the RER out to the airport to see if I could get last-minute tickets for the next flight. Managed to find a flight on the Giant List O' Departures, locate the airline's ticket office, and secure a spot in line... then I noticed that I had advanced maybe three spots in fifteen minutes, there were ten people ahead of me, the flight left in an hour and a half, and the check-in/security lines were snaking all the way around the terminal. So no dice on flying to London.Back I go to the train station, thinking vaguely that if the tunnel is closed the only ways to get to London are by air or by sea, and air is not possible. I know nothing about the Calais ferry or how to get to London from Dover; I pop by the information booth and there is no one there; I pop by the ticket windows and the line is an hour long; finally I end up at an automatic ticket-selling machine. I poke around to see if there are any trains to Calais. There is one, it's not too expensive, it leaves soon and goes directly there, but my American credit and debit cards do not work in the machine. My French debit card will probably work, but the account may or may not have enough in it for a ticket depending on whether certain deposits have gone through. I turn around and get back on the Metro to go home. Metro platform is crowded and miserable and I really don't want to give up and face more of the same shit tomorrow... so I square my shoulders, turn around, and march back to the ticket machine, determined to embark on a Mad Adventure. If my life were a movie this is where the dramatic soundtrack would kick in. I buy my ticket, possibly overdraw my account, and get on the train for Calais.
The train ride goes smoothly until, somewhere north of Lille, it starts snowing again. And keeps snowing. And turns into a blizzard condition. When I get to Calais I find out that the train station is not within walking distance of the city, let alone the port. The shuttle into town has been cancelled due to the weather; several people have called for taxis, so we all stand around and wait. And wait. And watch gendarmes evict a guy having a psychotic episode. And wait some more. There are three other people--one American girl and a French couple--bound for the ferry and when the taxi finally comes, we all pile in and agree to split the cost. We are about to become partners in crime for the rest of the journey.
The ferry is the most horribly-organized nightmare imaginable. One person doing ticket sales, even though it's a lengthy process involving passport verification, it's the weekend before Christmas, and the tunnel has just been closed. Once you have your ticket, you can't just walk onto the ferry; you have to catch a BUS that takes you through border control and onto the ferry. Said bus is supposed to come ten or fifteen minutes before the ferry's scheduled departure. We just barely miss the 6:10 ferry and wait... and wait... there is only one bus. He should be back by now. We are going to miss the 7:25 ferry. We have been waiting outside so as not to lose our places in line to a huge school group; it is way below freezing, windy, and the ground is covered with slush that manages to soak in through everyone's shoes. We wait some more. I lose the ability to feel my toes. The ticket-office employees refuse to tell us anything, are incredibly rude, and appear to blame the influx of resourceful Eurostar refugees for the staff's own incompetence. Finally at 8:15 or so the bus shows up again, there is a STAMPEDE to get on it, and our little group makes it to the doors just as they're shutting. So we wait. Some more. People keep stepping on my frostbitten feet. The bus, by some miracle, comes back at 8:30 or so; we've been waiting in below-freezing weather for over two hours. No apology, no explanation, only glares.
To their credit, they do make the ferry wait until everyone has been bused on board. At this point we are all utterly miserable; once we get into the warmth our feet stop being numb and start hurting like fuck; I haven't eaten since I wolfed down a baguette at the train station in the morning. FINALLY good news arrives: the American girl of our little group gets a call from her parents, who live in London and are picking her up in Dover, and have offered us all a ride. This is good since there are no Dover-London train tickets left.
At 10:30 British time, 11:30 European time, we drag our sorry butts into Dover... and get another call. Our ride is stuck in traffic. Every truck that would normally take the tunnel is currently PARKED on the highway into Dover, waiting for the ferry. We clear customs and wait for another few hours in the Dover ferry station, which thankfully has functioning heat.
At last our ride gets close enough for us to walk out (with all our suitcases) and meet them on the side of the highway. Six people in a car made for five, but hey, it's the bloody Ritz-Carlton after the Calais ferry terminal. I think I must've dozed off for most of the drive, but we did at some point all exchange contact information and if I can get a hold of this girl and her parents, I am totally taking them out to lunch later this week. That ride saved my sanity.
Arrived at approximately 2:30 in the morning, and poor
toi_marguerite had to stay up to let me in. And lend me pajamas because the bottom of my suitcase got soaked by slush and mine were damp and cold. BUT I MADE IT.In retrospect it was an awesome adventure, but I am now SO SO THANKFUL for how easy the Eurostar is. Moral of the story: the P&O ferry in Calais is made of suck.
What I have to show for all this: two frostbitten feet, a lot of aches and pains from holding and dragging heavy suitcases all across creation, an exchangeable Eurostar ticket, and unused and useless Les Mis ticket, three new friendships forged in the fire of necessity, and bragging rights.