Forgettable Day

Getting to Brussels, might not be as easy as one thinks. It should be a train ride from Zurich (through Basel) north to Brussels. Here's another way it could happen:

1. Zurich to Basel - no problem, right. Our lovely tram system (which we've grown accustomed to falling asleep to) doesn't start running until 5:30am. Nothing like walking to the train station at 5am!
2. Basel to Brussels - 10 mins to make the connection. "Sorry, the direct train to Brussels has been canceled (communication all in Swiss-German, of course). You'll need to connect in Strasbourg. There you can catch a direct train. It will leave from this track (pointing) in 30 minutes. 28 minutes later (still in front of the aforementioned track, obeying my orders) I get a tap on my shoulder, "you need to be on that train" points afar. I run like hell and barely make it.
3. Strasbourg to Brussels - One traveler in dire need for a cup of coffee. The food cart strolls by,maybe may day is turning around. After ordering a "cafe" which was about three sips of coffee in a dixie cup, the cashier asked me (in French) to pay. I handed him a 2 Euro coin, figuring change was coming back. Nope. The Frenchmen threw my 2 Euro in his change cart and kept his hand out for more. The only additional Euro currency I had was a 50 bill. He shook his head in utter disgust (for those of you who have traveled often, it was the same look you'd give a guy talking too loud on his cell phone in public transportation). That look said it all. Since this guy's English was as strong as my Swiss German, we resorted to body language. After some Neanderthal like pointing and waiving it was clear that he wasn't going to accept my 50 bill and did not want any of my Swiss Franc coins. As this war of attrition continued, the Frenchmen countered with "parlais vous espanol?" - Now, we are talking! Crisis averted. He spotted me 20 cents (reluctantly) after I offered the 50 again and a half dozen "lo siento muchos!". Shortly after my little, little coffee the train stopped in a French town called Metz. A dead stop. Shotty linguistics skills by me, picked up a faint "trois" heard on the overhead page. It was that clue and the fact that everyone was piling of the train (heading towards track 3). This train clearly did not want to go to Strasbourg (frankly, I didn't either). Off to track three to catch my Strasbourg (or was it Brussels?) train. Track 3 says - final destination Luxembourg. I ask the conductor, "parlais vous engles? (for the third time today) and then ask "will this train get me to Brussels"? This conductor assures me that I can transfer in Luxembourg and catch a train to my final destination. Perfect!
4. Metz to Luxembourg - Hey, a new train! This is one of the newer TGV models, a serious upgrade from those other trains this morning. Four trains all by 10AM (impressive, the East Coast isn't even out of bed yet)! Although this is a newer model, the train is considerably louder then the other three trains. By louder, I refer to the two women 3 rows back talking at volumes as if their ears were plugged from high altitude (we were damn close to sea level) and couldn't hear each other. Although I suspect they could hear each other, but if not about 2 dozen volunteers (all rolling their eyes) would be willing to act as a conduit to finish their conversation, just to bring it down an octave. Travelers note - don't enter any long train journeys without a fully charged iPod! I hope they aren't on my next train...
5. Luxembourg to Brussels - allegedly my final transfer (still suspicious). Popular pastimes on this train: a) producing large, loud hacking coughs b) carrying yippy dogs on your lap. Wait until K experiences a train like this.
6. Arrive in Brussels. Go to Hotel. Hotel does not have any record of reservation. Printed email confirmation does this guy no good, as he keeps "very detailed" records of each reservation (in pencil). To give an idea of the bookkeeping he referred to, think of the last lemonade stand you've been to lately. Those kids had better records then this guy. Beginning to think this is just a long practical joke. Not funny. The Belgian apologized and lit up a cigarette right at the front desk. Must be nice, you can smoke at the front desk and not honor reservations. What a place! After it was clear that this guy wasn't honoring my reservation, I called around. Brussels is sold out tonight. Great, like we haven't been through this before (think Zurich apt. hunting).
   
7. Somehow found a place (don't ask how or what it looks like).