On Time

Frankfurt.  At least I can understand people in this country.  So klar.  I´m dying for the bathroom.  I didn`t want to miss the punctual ICE and thought that my fumbling around for change and crushing my  luggage inside a tiny cubicle would set me back more than 15 minutes.  Luckily the train carriage is empty when I arrive.  Seats still a plush blue not faded by the DB trains and there is no rancid smell of austerity.  Why do I have the feeling that the nearer you get to Brussels, the nearer one is to the seat of power and money in Europe.  I feel out of place as a greying white collar man sits in front of me taking up two empty seats with such authority without apology.  Looking at my own crumpled and apologetic pose squeezed into one seat, I adjusting my position, trying to spread out further over my double seat only to then retrieve my pose a moment later, as a litter of people enter the carriage hurriedly finding their place.  Bladder uncomfortable now.  Five min late.  Slight panic as I think I am on the wrong train.  It can´t possibly be that a German train is late.  Greying man presumably thinks similar as he releases a sigh and looks at his watch and outside in impatience.  I squint and am relieved to see Brusellex Hauptbahnhof run across the screen in digital typography.