I had carefully planned my return journey by train. The German railway sent me the individual connections with the ticket. To get from the Vogelberg area in Hesse to Fulda, I would take the first bus at 16:00, which would take me to the next bus. In Fulda, after a short wait, I would catch the ICE.

Since all participants of our meeting had left at 14:00 and the next group was already pushing for their arrival, I slowly walked the 450 meters to the bus stop. A suitcase and a heavy travel bag, along with a backpack and 33 degrees in the shade made me sink, sweaty and exhausted, onto the bench of the waiting shelter. I had a water bottle with lemon water with me. I would have to buy water at the station, or better yet, cola, since I had gotten up very early today. Of course, I had no idea that the vending machine at my platform was broken.

Something was bothering me. I checked the information from the German railway and the timetable at the bus stop again. There was the sign for taxi call and a phone number. I was told that the ride does not need to be registered and that the bus would leave at 16:20. I said, here it says 16:00 and that is identical to my plan that I received. That should be fine.

At 15:00, there was also a bus scheduled, so I was looking forward to arriving at the next place earlier. But no bus came…

I relaxed a bit and the next hour flew by.

At 16:00, no bus came either. Now it was getting tight.

I called the taxi number again and was forwarded by the central office. This time a nice person told me that this bus stop is no longer in use and that I would have to walk to a different stop in the village to get another, better, and faster connection. I set off immediately, soon started sweating, drank my last water, and realized that the climb to the next stop was draining all my reserves of strength. My hands hurt, I got back pain, sweat was running into my face, and I felt dizzy. The air was becoming increasingly muggy.

I saw a minibus with a Fulda license plate, next to it a tradesman, and reacted immediately: “Are you by chance going to Fulda? I missed the bus and my train leaves at 17:00!”

“I still have something to take care of, but I can take you to Lauterbach. From there, a train goes to Fulda. We should still be able to catch it.”

The guy grinned at me eagerly. A bus drove by. If I had been faster or the way shorter, I would have caught that one.

I suddenly found myself in the middle of an adventure and got into the minibus.

Of course, we arrived late at the station and the next train was also delayed. First 5 minutes, then 15, then 25 minutes. My companion, the driver of the minibus, used the time to get to know me better and even got to massage my aching shoulders. Instead of fuel money, he preferred my phone number. In the meantime, we write to each other daily.

I received an email from the German railway that my ICE from Fulda would arrive 25 minutes later. But that was not enough because the train from Lauterbach had to wait another 15 minutes on the route.

Upon arriving at Fulda station, I immediately went to the information desk and received a new connection plan from a cheerful railway employee. His relaxed grin hinted at what kind of day it was. Due to storms, burning tracks and trains, power outages, people on the tracks, defective railcars, delayed slowly advancing trains, and a death, nearly all trains were delayed or did not arrive at the stations across Germany today.

This led to track changes, irritations, and chaos as well as overcrowded carriages. At my third and final transfer with a 60-minute wait, I had to laugh at every announcement. I was not the only one who found the whole spectacle amusing. By the way, just before my destination station, the railcar gave up…

But I finally did arrive home.