Hitch Hiking Hiccup

Of all the countries I have been to in Europe, I did not expect to have trouble hitching in Germany. To be fair, I never really had trouble, it just seemed disastrous because I was on a deadline to get to Zurich in order to meet my friend, Amy. That deadline was fast approaching and, by all appearances, I was moving laterally to Zurich instead of towards the city. The German transportation system is nearly flawless; my only complaint is the cost per mile. I could (and maybe should) have taken a train to alleviate any stress about meeting Amy, but that just wouldn't be the vagabond style. So, let's get to what actually happened.

I went to the edge of town by local metro to start my day. Once in position, I waited for about an hour with no success. As I observed the traffic patterns (very important to good hitching) it occurred to me that there weren't many cars heading in the direction I wants to go. I decided to walk a bit to see if I could find a more ideal location to stick my thumb out. A few kilometers down the road and everything seemed to be getting farther (in both directions) so I made a move to jump onto the autobahn. Don't worry, I was behind the guardrail and next to a huge SOS point to make myself highly visible and not a bug on some douche who thinks he's Mario Andretti's windshield. I survived, but according to the German police, I should not be on the motorway. Fair point and I'll heed the advice for the future. If you're reading my blog and contemplating traveling by thumb, do not walk on motorways (the popo don't like it). They were very cordial about the whole situation and we had a nice chat for the 25km to the next exit, which was a rest stop. If you're still reading my blog, note that I was able to score a lift to a safe hitching place with the assistance of those great guys in uniform. They even gave me some information on license plate schemes to help me identify cars going to Zurich. That's what I call service! We said our goodbyes and I ate a snack while I was waiting for my next lift.

I was beginning to lose a bit of hope as car after car rolled by and then a truck tooted his horn. I said Zurich and he said &$@/. I said Zurich again with a shitty attempt at a German accent trying to replicate the police when they finally understood that I was going to Zuuur-rich. He waved his hand to welcome me aboard and we were on our way. After some chat in German (no, I don't speak it) and English (no, he didn't speak it) we discovered that he was going through Memmingen and turning north. I would need to turn south. Score, getting closer! You would think all was going well and I had all the time in the world left to make my destination. Yea, me too. This is about where the proverbial shit hit the fan. Not only did we blow through Memmingen after I was somehow convinced by my driver (in German) that where he was going would be better for my journey, but also we were pulled over by the police. It was my second run-in with the boys in blue that day and I wasn't looking forward to being an accomplice on some drug trafficking charge. It turned out to be a routine stop with no problems so there was some good news before some of the bad. About 30 minutes later my new amigo started to slow down and pull towards the shoulder. I suppose it was better than driving into a random field with a freestanding barn as the only structure within eyeshot. Nonetheless, I had no idea where the hell I was and all this guy did was point somewhere. Thanks dude!

I began walking in the direction he told me and not 100 paces from my drop zone did I hit a fork in the road, fml. I turned around in the hopes he still might be there but it looked like the sound of crickets if you could see the bastards. I mentally tossed a coin and took the left fork. The good news was that it turned south. The bad was that I had no idea where. About two hours later and nobody deciding to stop for me, I came across a little town. I walked through and was lucky enough to find a lovely and helpful young lady to ask where the nearest train station was. Definitely over this adventure, or was I? Turns out the two hour walk I made took me away from the nearest station (fml again). The next one was Ravensburg, about an hour by car. This little town had a stop once, but for whatever reason they decided to disconnect this village from the rest of Germany, excellent! I asked her if there was a bus or hostel or something to which her reply was simply no. Any advice lady? Oh yea, your best bet is to just keep walking and stick your thumb out. Cause you know, that was working to my advantage so far in this little section of southwest Germany. I said thank you for the help and have a nice evening. Yes, it was approaching that hour when the sun begins to settle on the horizon and you wonder to yourself if you should kick your own ass for being to cheap to meet a friend. I continued my walk to Zurich while mentally cursing myself, thinking about how the conversation with Amy would go if I made it to the airport, and why of all the times I've had success... Oh, a car!! smile...check! sign...check! get your thumb out there dammit!

When I thought I was absolutely incapable of getting to the Zurich airport, a charitable gesture from a stranger put an authentic smile back on my face. If I thought the truckie couldn't speak English, this ole guy made him look fluent. He was a smart man though. He whipped out his nifty cell phone and called his son. Handing me the phone, I thought for a minute he called an American translator. His son spoke perfect English without even a hint of an accent. We squared away the details of my destination and he told his father. At this point I was still a considerable distance from Zurich and Ravensburg has a train station. I might be stubborn, but I'm not stupid (most of the time). Not only did he go out of his way to drive me to the station, but he also walked me all the way to the platform so that I didn't make a mistake buying the ticket that would take me directly to the Zurich airport, even though all the machines had English prompts. With a simple exchange of handshakes and smiles we parted ways. Upon him turning he said the only English word I heard from him... Goodbye Michael.

* DISCLAIMER: I do not condone, nor am I responsible for, the actions of any other person's based on this story. This was my own personal experience and I can not guarantee that you will not be arrested, fined, and/or deported by the authorities. Happy travels!