What followed in the next 40 minutes folks was the most superb piece of slapstick chaos conjured by the Macks on their holiday so far. Ok we have a train to catch to Paris at 9.58, and a lot of trains in between. Think we made it? Stay tuned...
Ok, let's go to plan b and aim for the next train at 7.42. After wrangling dash and Jett into attire suitable for the great outdoors, breakfast coaxed into Dash and last shoving of items that we thought we had already packed, into bags bulging at the sides with clothes, broken shoes and Swiss souvenirs (baahaah !! there goes that yodeling cow again) it was 7.35 - with the 7:42 now impossible as well, it was time for last ditch plan c and after that forget Paris - we will be doomed to a bureaucratic nightmare of ticket changes and admin fees, charged in the surprisingly, still-buoyant Euro.
Basically at this point the timing was looking tight but doable. (However, 'just doable' with two kids and six pieces of luggage is a special type of hell). We waved as the 7:42 passed our struggling crew and made it onto the 7:53. This took us one station to turgi, where we changed trains to get a train to aarau, to get a train to basel and then from basel to catch the train to paris. Still with us?
Well, after blearily misreading G's meticulously hand-plotted train timetable, we ended up mistakenly getting off our train at brugg. Not a good mistake to make when things are getting super-tight to get that Paris train. So we waited for the next train to get us to aarau.
We arrive at aarau and G goes and checks on the next train to Basel, while I guard luggage and a wild dash (for whom it is neither the journey, nor the destination, but all about infiltrating the snack bag).
A rather dour man informs G that the train we want departs in one minute from platform five - Aaaaahhhh!!! G bursts out of ticket office screaming 'GO, GO, GO!!!' Cam makes it up the ramp first and hauls our luggage onto the train, pumping his fists in the air when he makes it, with G throwing herself and Dash through the door moments later, to puzzled looks from our fellow commuters. Unfazed, we sit and high five and look pleased with ourselves. We have good seats and our luggage is tucked away. After a minute or two, something feels wrong, 'Cam, is this platform five?' 'Ummmm...'
No it is not, it is platform four and this train is about to leave for Zurich! No time for recriminations, throw two kids, six pieces of luggage and selves OFF train bound in opposite direction and with Cam in a state of acute stress and caffeine-withdrawal, wonder if Plan D could possibly be viable?
Plan D (the final frontier): The 9:14 train reaches Basel at 9:55, and the Paris train departs at 9:58. This would give us three minutes to change platforms and find our carriage (with two kids and six pieces of luggage, remember) There was no way we were going to make it.
So we waited, feeling defeated, but gradually the family Mack rallied, and decided like in all good backs-against-the-wall moments that we were going get that train!!! Dash mumbled something about mango's (which we took as a sign of "let's do this!!!!" and Jett even looked like she raised a fist in solidarity before passing back into her boob fed stupor).
Like gallant heroes we waited, in a cigarette smoke haze, dreaming of a Paris train that we may never board. Dash mumbled something about more mango. The train arrived and we took up a tense post of readiness by the exit, as it sped towards Basel.
Like most Swiss trains it was strong and true.... and on time. Arriving at Basel, your heroes stumbled bravely in a running kind of way - family of four in full flight - towards the shimmering lights of platform 12.
Picture your heroes triumphantly exiting the platform of our arrival via the ramp (have you ever tried the stairs with a gazillion kilo suitcase??), knowing that they had minutes to spare to board their train and unknowing in their courageous quest that they had charged down an access tunnel for maintenance only!
Faced with a dead end, they turn, only to see a Minotaur (oh dear getting carried away) ahem, a service vehicle, with it's flashing lights and a very confused and baffled driver seeing the family Mack rabbit-like caught in his headlights, laden with children and luggage looking for a way out. He pointed back up the ramp in a stunned and 'not sure what the hell is going on here' kind of way. We again ran, back up the ramp across the platform, up the escalator through the pressing throng of people.
Reaching the top of the escalator at platform twelve, we can see the Paris train. C charges ahead, but G is slowed by oblivious non-Paris-bound commuters and a toddler wary of escalators, screaming, 'No fanks, nooo fanks' (manners! at a time like this!) Down the escalator and glory be, the train is still there, although the whistle is screeching - where the hell is Cam??!! G can't see him on the platform, but It's crowded and long. What to do??!! Only one choice, jump on and hope for the best. The train departs as the door closes behind G, who must look shellshocked as a conductor approaches and gestures her to her empty compartment. Where is Cam? He has no money, no ticket, no passport and no phone. As G thinks through the catastrophic implications, thankfully he comes striding through the train - thank God! With ridiculous toothy grins, we realized that we had made it, with full group intact, luggage and a train to Paris.
EPILOGUE: The family Mack unloaded their luggage and settled into their seats for the three hour journey, eating their lunch and enjoying the countryside flashing by...only to be rudely interrupted by another family claiming ownership of said hard-won seats. We showed them the correct corresponding seat numbers on our tickets, only to realize we had the right seat numbers, but the wrong carriage. Can we not catch a break?
Re-pack lunch (disengaging Jett from hers as well), gather up strewn mass of belongings and decamp, but not before Dash spills his yoghurt drink on one of our usurpers.
When we stumble into the right carriage, with Jett yelling for her interrupted lunch, (the family Mack know how to make an entrance!) there is already a woman sleeping, with her head on the communal table, who continues to sleep for almost the entire journey. She even snores, to the amusement of the passengers opposite, but not Cam who is seated next to her. However, a small price to pay because we still made the Paris train.
When we arrive in Paris we even manage to negotiate two trains on the Paris metro to get to our chic apartment in Marais. Life is good!
N.B. Gratuitous inclusion of photo of beautifully wrapped French pastries.
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