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Our hour was up and it was time to head to track platform. Like many European train stations, one had to actually walk down stairs, through a tunnel and then back up stairs to get to your platform. This is not way it works in San Diego. It also doesn’t rain in San Diego. Rain, 70 pound bag on wheels, plastic bars, stairs…I think you get picture.
The stairs were packed as I shuffled forward pulling lump behind me. You would be proud. I made first flight without maiming anyone or being slapped. Just as I stepped down second flight, “thou was nudgeth from behind.”
The lump hit me in back of knees. I fell back onto lump. In a transformation beyond my primitive understanding of quantum physics, lump became a high performance bobsled. Down I went.
Still in slow motion, I couldn’t help but notice agility of Russians in stairwell. Some jumped up an ornamental shelf running down stairs. Overweight individuals sucked it up and suddenly became thin. Miraculously, not one soul was hit on my way to bottom. My landing was uneventful, which is to say there wasn’t a loud smack on wall at bottom of stairs.
I jumped up and turned to see if anyone was injured. There was total silence. Faces just stared back at me. Apparently, only thing injured was my ego and skin, which was turning a dark shade of red. Well, I like to make an impression! I vehemently prayed that none of them were going to Chita.
Everyone started moving again and not a word was said. Alas, lump was not so accommodating when it came to climbing up stairs on other end of tunnel.
Next – The Trans-Siberian Railway…How Many Days To Chita?!
Rick Chapo is with NomadJournalTrips.com to read the rest of this series and other travelogues.