Expensive Swiss Mishap #2

It's like the entire country is conspiring to get my money, whether or not I want to spend it. (And trust me, I'm trying my best not to.)

Today's forecast called for blue skies all day, so I decided that it was the perfect day to visit some of Switzerland's famous mountains. I knew it would be pretty chilly, so I bundled up and managed to validate my day pass in time to catch the 8:01 train into Zurich. From the tourist information office in the central train station, I grabbed a map of the mountains I was headed for, and stocked up on some snacks. It all took less time than I had expected, and by power-walking to the platform, I made it onto the 8:32 train for the next leg of my journey.

It was standing-room only on that train. I pulled out my phone so I could track our progress towards Bern, where I would change trains and then head toward Interlaken.

It was then that I noticed that, aside from my phone, my pocket was empty. Which it certainly should not have been, because my train ticket was supposed to be in that pocket.

Yup, my 49-Franc day pass was gone with the wind, and I was five minutes in to an hour-long train ride, with a sign right in front of my face telling me (in four different languages) that if I was caught without a ticket, I would be fined a minimum of 100 Francs.

Efforts to quickly purchase a ticket online were fruitless; my phone refused to connect to the internet. I spent the rest of the ride sweating through my carefully layered hiking clothes, dreading the moment when the train staff would swoop down and yell at me in German for being an arrogant American who thought she was above purchasing train tickets.

So when we pulled into Bern fifty-four tense minutes later, I breathed a huge sigh of relief, but was still in need of a day pass for all of the trains, cable cars, and funicular railways that I would be using.

My knight in shining armor arrived an hour and a half later, bearing the new train pass she'd promised when I'd called her from the train in a panic, and I carefully placed it in a zippered backpack pocket and headed for the hills--er, mountains.

Thank the universe for fraternity Brothers.

Note to self: when in Switzerland, don't trust your pants pockets.