I took a train from Munich to Nuremberg.
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Updated 4 years ago,January 16, 2021
I took a train from Munich to Nuremberg.
Jet lag had made its mark.
Photo byThomas WinkleronUnsplash
It was maybe 4 p.m.
The sun was still out, striking the old cobblestone streets.
Having my hair down in Germany and contemplating an afternoon beer with my coffee was my version of Rumspringa.
A voice in German.
A voice in German, again, accompanied by a shoulder tap.
No sprechen die Deutsch, I said to the stranger.
he asked, with an accentArabic, it seemed.
Nurembergs tourist area is very public.
And I was here in Germany to broaden my horizons, to open myself to new situations.
Wasnt that why I had decided to travel alone for 10 days?
We (he) decided on a dinner spot.
I dont remember what he ordered, except a non-alcoholic beer; he didnt drink.
Midway through the main meal, he asked again, and I again said no.
He clarified that I could move to Germany with him and hed get me a visa.
His argument would have been more convincing if he had seen more than the facades I present to strangers.
I barely had a concept of what his facade was, let alone who he truly was.
Yet I stayed through dinner and through dessert.
After, we strolled the streets, arm in arm, to anyone else looking like a couple.
We found a park bench, and he started to kiss me.
More importantly, I wanted to be in a place away from him.
I never saw him again.
After dropping my notebook off at the hostel, I found the bar that my hostel-mates were at.
It was just them and the bartenders.
We continued our night at a more crowded night club.
I started dancing with someone from the hostel, another American named Joe.
One, a skinny guy in his twenties, invited me to a party after.
Ten minutes into the drive, I realized the party was farther than I thought.
When the spoons came out to ready the heroin, I took that as a cue to leave.
And so I walked, alone, cold, lost.
Each car caused me to jump a little.
A garbage truck drove by and stopped, then slowly backed up the lane.
The driver looked over at me.
I wondered how my absence would be reported, who would notice it first.
How long it would take.
He said something in German.
I shook my head, not understanding him.
Where are you headed?
Nuremberg, I said.
He offered me a ride.
We talked; he was an immigrant, trying to make a life.
He made me take his number just in case I ran into any issues.
We drove and talked as best as we could.
I dont anticipate the kindness of strangers.
I expect actions from strangers who are expecting some sort of reciprocation.
He dropped me off just past the gates.
I never saw him again, but I wouldnt mind if I did.
