The station could now not open fast enough, and it opened right on time. There was a train at 6:20am to Brussels, Belgium. I intended to be on it. But Paris would once again have different plans. Towing my heavy bags as tired as I was made me easy to pass on the way to the ticket line; there was no one around me when I saw the first ticket window open, but by the time I got to the window I was about sixth in line. No worries, still plenty of time to get the ticket and make the train; after all, it was only two tracks away from where I was.
When I got to the front of the line I looked for the little Union Jack sticker on the window that indicated the representative was an English speaker. Found one, and the transaction began – and ended as quickly as it began. My credit card was declined. Not sure why, but not to worry, I had another one. Declined as well. Now I had an issue; it became clear in that moment that I would not be getting on board my desired train. I left the ticket line and began thinking of what to do. I could not use my cell phone to call the credit card companies; it did not work in Europe. I found a cache of pay phones and eventually deciphered the instructions for making a collect call to the United States. I called both credit card companies and told them of the situation. Both companies assured me that there was nothing wrong with the cards and to go try the transaction again. I did.
I returned to the ticket window; maybe, just maybe there was a slim chance I could get the ticket and still make the desired train; first board had just been called. I got to the window and again tried the purchase – with the same results on both cards. Damn! It was certainty now that I would miss that train. As I left the window for the second time, still ticketless, I watch the doors to the train I should be on close and the train slowly pull from the station.
Now what? I wondered. I went back to the phones and called again the companies. Again they assured me there was nothing wrong with their respective cards. I told them of the urgency of the purchase, and yet again I received their assurances. Convinced there was just some misunderstanding, I went back to the departures board and found a second train leaving in an hour and fifteen minutes that I was now determined to make. So I went back to the same English speaking ticket agent; I told him I had phoned both companies and both assured me there was not an issue with either card. I convinced him to try again. He did. Refused, now for the third time.
I do not know if it was that particular agent or a manager, or if it might just have been coincidence but this time a French police officer showed up. One of those guys with a dog and an automatic rifle who refused to do anything about all the fighting drunks from earlier. He watched me – closely. I was walking away from the ticket window trying to decide what to do now. I turned to see the officer speaking to the ticket agent. Of course I could not hear because of the distance and even if I could I would not have been able to understand, so I just stood there for a few moments trying not to make any moves of suddenality, ones that might make a suspicious French police officer nervous.
Thinking of nothing else, and believe me I was thinking hard, I worked my way back to the phones again. And yet again I called the credit card companies. Well, one of them anyway. One company was no long accepting my collect calls. I will have a discussion with them in the near future as to the continuance of my business. However, the other card company again took my call, and I repeated the same claim I had made twice already. I tried very hard to be loud (key word) and clear what the problem was. I was trying to be loud for the benefit of that police officer who followed me to the phones and was now standing in a position to watch every move I made; hopefully he was close enough to also hear every word I said and he understood English. I wanted it to be clear I was no terrorist but a stranded traveler.
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