Vienna After Hours

It was supposed to be a day trip into Vienna from Bratislava by train, but it didn't quite work out that way.

I'd taken a bus from Paris to Bratislava the week previous to visit my best friend from college, Shane, who had moved there after graduation the year before.  He had hooked up with some other idealists from our school and was providing educational resources (read: English lessons) for local college-aged kids out of a couple of rooms at the YMCA (or "em-ka" as it was called locally).  I'd spent a week or so in London, then the same amount of time in Paris before realizing my limited money supply was dwindling at an alarming rate.  It was the summer of 1994 and Eastern Europe was only recently out from under Communism making it very much on the affordable side of things.  My plan was to flee there and regroup for a few weeks before any further travel plans were to be made.

My arrival at the Bratislava bus station was made memorable by an elderly babushka I passed on my way into the men's restroom.  As I stood using a urinal I  heard her enter the room and start rummaging in a closet about ten feet behind me.  This made me uncomfortable and so I finished my business quickly and headed for the exit.  I was immediately cut off from leaving by the babushka who now had a broomstick in one hand and the other extended towards me, palm facing upward.  She was saying something to me and I just looked at her in dumb surprise.  Thinking she might be mentally ill, I attempted to go around her.  She immediately cut me off from the exit and started yelling while poking her hand at me.  It dawned on me that she was very likely the janitor and that this is how she got paid, so I fished some coins out of my pocket and placed them in her hand one at a time until she was satisfied and let me pass.

So, the day trip.  Shane and I swept into Vienna on the early train planning to wander the city all day and catch the last train back in the evening.  The wandering part went according to plan.  I remember visiting St. Stephen's Cathedral, promenading through spacious parks , and posing with an imposing statue of Goethe out of feelings of guilt that "Faust" was the only assigned work in my college World Literature class that I had not read to the end.  I seem to recollect the devil was involved in a wager of some sort and a cat figured into it, but I'm not wholly sure about the cat part.  I may be conflating it with Bulgakov's "The Master and Margarita."  I remember the buildings being old and tall, but not too tall, with carved stone facades.  I couldn't afford the pastries that Vienna is famous for and may have even found a McDonalds to eat at for lunch, fer shame.

So, the day progressed and the evening arrived with us making our way back to the train station only to find we'd missed the last train to Bratislava.  No subsequent accommodations were found to soften the blow.  Having been in similar circumstances on previous misadventures, I was a little miffed at Shane but not wholly undone.  I knew it was going to be a very long night with a fair bit of unpleasantness due to a chill in the air and no sleeping bags.  Not to mention the fact we'd spent the entire day walking through the city and now were sore and tired.

There were some other young international traveler-types milling about the station for a time and we took advantage of the opportunity to talk with them, sitting indian-style in a loose circle, bumming cigarettes from one another to pass the time.  The number of people and passer-throughs began to thin and eventually we were forced out of the station by security.  We found some benches in the back where the buses pull up and tried to get some sleep.  There were a few others with the same idea who appeared to be of the local homeless variety.  Just as I was starting to drift off I was tapped on the shoe by a baton.  Two uniformed men were waking everyone up and asking for tickets.  No ticket, no bench.  Shane and I gathered our things and slunk away, tired and dejected.

This was "wandering the city", part two.   By this time it was well past midnight and I had caught a second wind.  I told Shane to sleep and I would keep watch.  He found a patch of grass by some bushes beside the wrought iron fence of a large park and settled in to sleep.  I sat on a low stone wall that lined the sidewalk about twenty feet from Shane's prostrate form and pulled out a paperback to pass the time.  In those days I had a book as an almost constant companion.  These days I typically whip out the smart phone when I have unoccupied time.  Back then it was a book in a cargo pocket.  That night was almost twenty years ago to the day, but I'm nearly certain it was Dostoevsky's "The House of the Dead."  I guess reading about the privations of a Siberian prison gave me some perspective as I sat there shivering.

I don't know how long I was there reading under the street light before I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.  I glanced up and saw a dark figure coming down the sidewalk a good way's off and  headed my direction.  I chose to be nonchalant about it and just pretend to read until the person passed me by.  As he came closer I could tell he was moving at quite a clip and what appeared to be a black overcoat was flapping around him.  As he approached where I was sitting I could hear him muttering to himself.

He stopped directly in front of me and I found myself looking at his  black boots over the top of the book that lay open in my lap.  I looked up not knowing what to expect and saw a weathered man likely in his upper forties with a large scraggly looking beard.  He said something to me in German and I just gazed into his face, uncomprehending.  I then noticed the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.  I instinctively reached into my pocket, pulled out some matches, and struck one.  He cupped the flame with his large hands and lit his cigarette.  He said, "Danke" and then headed off once again into the night, leaving me with doubts that the incident had even occurred.    

When the horizon finally began to glow a pale pink, Shane and I headed back to the train station and he bought tickets for the next train to Bratislava which was not to arrive for another few hours.  Exhausted, we made our way back to the benches we'd been evicted from earlier and laid down to sleep.  I was once again awakened by a uniformed man tapping my foot with his baton.  I was so tired I didn't even open my eyes, but pointed in Shane's direction and said loudly, "Shane!  Show him our tickets!" and rolled back over and fell asleep.