Twenty minutes later, and we're still looking for the train. So this was the delay Ticket Mistress had mentioned. Jay and I checked our watches nervously; the 40 minutes we had for our Sophia connection were dwindling fast.
When it finally showed, the train was a half hour behind schedule. Jay's sprint to the bank had long since been declared pointless, and we found ourselves unable to relax for the entire three-hour journey. At every stop, we stress-ate museli (our only available snack) and checked our watches against the original timetable: ten minutes in Sophia... eight minutes... six...
At the very last stop before the final haul into town, the train stopped for some reason I'll never know because I don't speak Bulgarian. The local passengers looked unfazed and stepped lazily off the train for a cigarette while Jay and I continued to grit our teeth and clutch at our watches in useless pacification. By the time we got rolling again, we knew it was too late; sadly we watched our connection train time come and pass on our respective minute hands.
"Well, I guess we'll rent a car..." Jay-the-man-with-the-plan began.
"Nah-ah-ah, we can't lose faith yet! If this is any indication of Bulgarian timeliness, there's a chance the next one's late as well..."
By the second grace of God/Buddha/the universe that day, I was right.
Jay and I had exploded onto the platform and raced along the Sofia station, which was (of course) under construction and confusing as hell. When we finally found the departure board, we located the train and determined it was indeed delayed 20 minutes.
"But where's the platform number?" wondered Jay.
Just as we asked this, a Bulgarian man with a holey smile and what seemed to be an airport lanyard and badge approached. In broken English, he asked us where we were going and if we had tickets.
"Thessaloniki, Eurail," I replied. "Reservation?"
"You have Bulgarian money, yes?"
"Yes."
"Reservation."
He marched us toward the ticket booth. As we rushed along, he asked for our Eurail passes. I made eye contact with Jay. We still didn't know who this guy was and the last thing I wanted to do was to hand him my $700 pass to freedom. As Jay hesitantly offered his, I focused on the man's feet, wondering how quickly I might grab his ankles should he try to run away. Instead, he turned toward the ticket booth.
"Two to Thessaloniki! Eurail! Reservation!"
The ticket lady looked minorly annoyed at the interruption, but otherwise unconcerned by the man's request. Maybe he did work for the station after all. I relaxed. Slightly.
Tickets in hand, it was back to the platforms. The man --we'll call him Thing 1 -- lead us up to an awaiting train, where I expected he'd ask for a tip and leave. Instead, he asked us to stand just shy of the other passengers, beside a man with a similar dental problem who was holding EuroTour pamphlets. Our numbers were now matched, and these guys didn't seem to be going anywhere soon. My uneasiness increased.
When the train was connected for boarding, Thing 1 and Thing 2 lead us up the stairs and to the compartment specified on our tickets. I hovered at the door, unwilling to go inside with both of them in there, but when they took my backpack to store on the overhead shelf, I followed it into the compartment, not wanting to let my belongings out of my sight.
Once we were all inside, the Things did the only thing left to make me 100% uncomfortable with this situation: they "demonstrated" the ability to lock the compartment door and close the curtains. Holy shit, I thought. I'm an idiot, and this is where we die.
Not wanting to stick around for whatever robbery, battery, or violation was about to happen, I screetched "WC! WC?!" and pushed past Thing 2 toward "the bathroom." Once out, I raced to the conductor at the edge of the car.
"Excuse me! Hello? My boyfriend is in that car with two men. I think they might be dangerous. They want money. Please help?" I clutched at the man's arm and tried to drag him away from the door. He looked at me as if I were an irritating fly.
"My boyfriend! Help? Assistance?"
The conductor waved his hand at me and stepped off the train toward some other passemgers. I marched back to the compartment in fury, fearing what Jay might have endured in my absence.
I arrived to find him unscathed, but showing the Things his wallet, now empty of the little Bulgarian money we bad left over from that morning.
"That's all I have," he said, cool as a cucumber. "Sorry."
I, on the other hand, piped up like a feisty piglet, thrusting myself into the compartment.
"OKAY, OKAY, YOU'VE HELPED US ENOUGH. THANK YOU. GOODBYE."
The Things left without further comment. I locked the door. I looked at Jay.
"They took 7 lev. He wanted 20, of course, but that was all I had."
So the whole experience had cost us what we probably would have tipped the guy anyway. I felt nauseous and stupid.
We confirmed from some other passengers that we were indeed headed to Thessaloniki, and the train headed out a short time later. Slowly but surely I began to breathe normally.
"I really thought we were going to die back there."
"I know. I was on high-alert too," Jay assured me. "Was that like a... pseudo-mugging?"
"Basically. We were pseudo-mugged by a Dr. Suess character..."
"I'm so hangry..."
"Are we really on this train right now?"
"Is there any more museli?"
"We're going to Greece. We're getting the hell out of Bulgaria."
"I wish there was a dining car..."
"That toilet on the last train smelled like a pet shop. Maybe this one will be better...?"
We were delirous, but we were alive. Seven hours later we would take an affordable ride from a kind taxi driver to our angelic Couchsurfer hosts' apartment. They'd order us midnight gyros and talk about the wonders of Greece. We would sleep off today's nightmare in the comfort of an Ikea futon. And I would write this all from a beach in Santorini, overlooking the Agean Sea.
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