... and how I regret bringing more than one. I am packing up to head for the night train to Cologne, and I am not thrilled at the likely prospect of being that "American asshole" blocking the aisles as I sweatily and awkwardly make my way through the train compartment desperately searching for a place to put my bags that is reasonably close to my assigned seat. I'm sure there will be a trail of minimalist Danish fresh-faced individuals behind me whispering about my struggle. The very thought of this gives me bubble-guts. The anxiety this vision gives me is enough that I almost want to give some of my belongings away just to empty one suitcase.
I have to keep repeating to myself that approximately 15 hours of discomfort and nervousness might actually be equivalent to exercise, so it must be healthy. Experiences like this always conjure embarrassing memories of being a pre-teen and doing stupid things like tucking my skirt into my tights when leaving the bathroom. For me, being awkward on foreign transportation is the adult equivalent of accidentally farting during a test in junior high. Just writing about it is making me sick. Wish me luck!
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