Well, this is the challenge offered by Chic in his commentary: After the joggueuse and the joggers, the meeting of the 3rd kind ! Chic gave us a real alien, I offer a 100% land. In this little story, there is indeed the first type, the sweeper, the second type, in this case "the landmark, and the third type: a man a little shy but so sincere! Unless finally, the troisème type is the controller ... it is you who will judge.
I was reading "Time of the King" of Khazanov, this text contraband necessarily subversive she gave me with any his friendship ... With the pleasure of his presence on the platform when I arrived and the delicacy of being there, it was a few minutes to brighten my day a bit dull, while traveling fast and not very bright in Paris . One such summonses last minute you do not care bits in a schedule, make you ask what are the videoconferences and you are ranting against fate allotted to you. 8am train in the day it makes you a bit dull, unless a radius of friendship illuminates this chore. And the ray in question, passing flash of my favorite aminaute, earned me This book-style carved delicately and without ostentation, a way to write clearly between dream and that I love, and I devoured in TER linking back to Niort Royan.
Behind me, a little man, no longer young but charming and jovial, "dragging" with a young Parisian enthusiasm misplaced, obviously terrified of ending up in a remote place as our good city . She worried very loudly from where could nestle the Novotel, and the probability that taxi to take him there. Our Don Juan was joking, but obviously did not know the location of the hotel drinking only resource of the city of Royan, yet terribly proud spotted on a rock. It seemed to me later hear that he was returning to its homebase in Meschers, thence to conclude that Michael does not know much Royan ...
Before me, a very tidy, round leather and rather reserved in hell, suddenly took the floor, and with the courage of the timid, declared bluntly in vibrio a little disappointed of the lack of helpfulness of those who gave himself much trouble to make her laugh a moment before: "I will lay you miss, it's not very far from the station."
Acknowledgements Enthusiasts interested her seducer disappointed engaging the conversation another blow to his left. And I overlooked, astonished at his own bravery, the voice at first a little choked by the lack of seldom imposed, undertook to justify the invitation, after all bold.
"It happened to me a strange adventure ..."
Encouraged by our questioning look he continued
"In Paris, I was wrong train.
"How is that possible?"
"Well I was ahead, perfectly relaxed, and I went up too fast on a train. I have thought check yet, but after starting, I realized it was going direct to Bordeaux, with one stop at Angouleme. Explain that to reach Royan, take the train from La Rochelle it is a little bus to Niort and there, we change to a TER rali the edge of the Atlantic.
In petto, I sympathize, without really knowing what we reserved for after our heroes for a night . But we must that since Angouleme, due to track work that lasts until May 2011, we must engage in a real uphill battle to reach Royan, a bus which is holy to all villages, and from there a train to the terminus hahanne ocean. Besides the random system and does little more uncomfortable night there.
"So I advise the controller that tells me that I do not count extra, but that looks sorry for me because the trip may be impossible for tonight. Forced to sleep in Hotel Royan Angouleme to join tomorrow morning. Gentil controller, helpful even, looking eagerly into his machine how I could get out ...
Suddenly, though no decision is expected there, the train slows. We approached Poitiers and we took a look winded. The controller asks me if I was interested to come down to Poitiers. Yes, I said, my daughter lives there, I will have at least one overnight stay, and will always be better Angoulême. Two other passengers who had, it's strange - I finally asked if there was no misrepresentation somewhere - made the same mistake I did, decide they would like to get to Poitiers. The controller then grabs the phone and alarm calls, just us three, train to halt at the station in Poitiers. 30 seconds to stop: we go down, let our minds, and suddenly while the direct Bordeaux leave, a second train enters the station. A train that would not have been there, that I should take in Paris, which normally occurs sooner. He had this soir10 minutes late! We jump in, and here I am. I am so happy to return in time, that I must serve you miss my turn! "
is said on the net enough stories Controllers cantankerous, nasty employees, humans cranky for my turn to tell you this, which reconciles with the station, people of good will who are working in conditions not always obvious (and not necessarily need to be kind of neo-Taylorism), and, most importantly, reassure you about the capabilities of your fellow altruism. This gentleman, happy to have been lucky, felt indebted to the plight and wanted to help turn someone into trouble. Is not it nice? And it was without doubt his story to tell us that his intentions in respect of this young city, very anxious to land without a parachute at the end of the world, were pure! But I do not know the end of the story! God knows what memories he will leave his escapade confines of our province, against a backdrop of ocean and sea wind.
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