The slightly older, but strong and able looking man in front of me was struggling a bit to get his suitcase into the train car. He kept looking back at me as I followed him. It was not a can you help me sort of look, more of an are you really going this way too look. Maybe this was a first class car, I guessed. Maybe he was wondering why a scrub of a man was following him into first class. Curious with what his looks might turn into, I kept following him.
When we got into the cabin, it was obvious Id guessed right. The place was completely empty except for him, his wife and me. I went to take a seat.
Eerste klasse, he said, inspecting me head to toe.
Huh? I replied helplessly.
Eerste klasse, he said again, now waving his finger as if he were stirring soup in the air.
Oh, first class? I said with a tone that spoke, Silly me, I wouldnt know first class if I tripped and landed in it!
Ja he replied with a simple nod.
Wow. Expensive huh? I asked while rubbing my thumb against my index and middle finger and looking around in a faux awe of what royal train travel was like.
So where do I go? I go on innocently.
Second class. That way, he said pointing and comfortable.
Shuffling out the door with an intentional clumsiness and look of tire, I left the man and his wife to enjoy their status alone.
At least someone knew he was riding first class.
