Voyassitude

He’s drunk, he’s in a heated argument with a train employee, and he’s sitting right next to me. The train attendant produces a judgmental expression when he notices the beer I hold in my hand as I beg for the ground to swallow me whole. Twenty minutes ago I was finally closing my eyes to take a much-needed nap, so how did I end up in such a mess?
It was Diego’s fault.
I was on the first of three trains needed to reach Luxembourg when Diego, the trickster of this story, showed up. He was part of a trio of noisy teenagers seeking some available seats, and as soon as he came into the coach I was in I could tell he was wasted. His two friends, not as drunk as him, quickly found two seats while Diego walked up and down the corridor trying to secure an empty spot. He stopped by my side, me being on the window seat and my backpack strategically located on the free chair next to me. But social pressure got to me so I was about to move my bag when he spoke to a woman close to him.
“Ma’am? Excuse me, hello. How are you today?” he said almost yelling. “My name is Diego, what’s yours?”
“I’m Kristina,” she replied hesitantly (yes, to me she looked very badass, like a Kristina with a K.)
“Ah, Kristina, good! So, those are my two friends over there and I was wondering if I could sit in the empty spot next to you to be close to them.”
“Hmm, I don’t think so because you’re drunk,” she said.
I’m paraphrasing all of this, but I can assure you Diego was that polite. And just as drunk too because, in the most common words of an inebriated person, he proceeded to deny being under the influence of alcohol so passionately that it made everyone in the coach laugh out loud —Kristina included. However, she remained firm in her decision, which is why I approached Diego to tell him about the free seat by my side.
I knew I was going to regret it, and it took a titanic effort to remove my backpack from the seat, but the way Diego thanked me as if I had just saved his life made things better. Besides, he was closer to his friends there and their proximity, mixed with their high levels of alcohol, made them all so joyful that Diego offered me a beer. His two friends carried a six-pack, and one of them immediately handed Diego a can, who then gave it to me as a thank you for my kindness. I swear I hesitated, and I even asked him if you were allowed to drink your own alcohol on the train. But Diego said it was fine so hey, when a free beer comes your way in Europe, don’t reject it, right?
Diego, a Dutch guy with baggy jeans and a stubble beard was the kind of curious, talkative drunk that bombards you with questions, but he also told me about his weekend trip with some friends to party and have a good time. And speaking of good times, he suddenly gave me an old digital camera he had in his pocket, asking me to take a picture of him and his friends. I hadn’t taken a picture with one of those in years. I spotted through the viewfinder three European youngsters whit big smiles and great expectations about the adventures ahead. I was equally jealous and happy for them.
Things were going great —until the train attendant appeared. He was checking everyone’s tickets and when he got to our seats I showed him mine. All good. But when he saw Diego he noticed he was drunk and made some remarks in Dutch that I didn’t understand but were obviously some sort of reproach. Diego, who up to that point had been all smiles and chill vibes, started to get upset and reply to every word the attendant said. The entire coach went silent except for Diego and the train attendant, who were arguing so loudly that for a few moments I feared it was about to escalate into something physical. Diego’s friends were visibly worried too, because they kept talking to his friend as if to calm him or stop him from saying whatever stupidities he was uttering.
Me? I was the Colombian idiot with a can of beer in his hand shrinking in his own seat with each second that the argument lasted. I wanted to hide the drink but there was no point because the attendant had seen it already, his critical glance towards me making me feel like a terrible parent who encourages bad behavior in his kids. He left for a few minutes, which I employed in finishing the damned beer and asking Diego what the issue was, but he didn’t give me a concise answer, only mentioning that the attendant was being disrespectful to him. Then the same employee showed up again and the argument continued. It got so bad that the attendant yelled at Diego, who wouldn’t shut up, so I stepped in and told him to let it go, to tell me more about his weekend plans, about Achterhoek, where he was going, anything to distract him from an escalation.
At long last the attendant left; I don’t think anyone won the argument, but they both sure looked furious. My seatmate didn’t feel like talking after that and I was okay with it. Soon after Diego fell asleep while I left behind the Netherlands and the chance of a good nap. But at least I got the free Dutch beer, a good dose of embarrassment, and a story for this blog.