Speeding across the European countryside on the TGV today, my trip was mostly uneventful. The day was clear and beautiful, and the scenery magnificent. I was even impressed by the lunches on display.
Europeans, possessed of a certain sense of style that we Yanks often lack, really know how to pack a picnic for a long train ride (the right wine is very important). All around me, people sipped their wine and enjoyed the rolling view outside, as they quietly conversed in French or German.
Then, around two hours into the ride, everybody started to notice a plaintive meowing. Conversation died down — the sound was unmistakable. Apparently a small kitten had gotten onto the train. Passengers started to look around, trying to figure out where it might be hiding.
Finally a man stood up, reached into the overhead luggage rack, and took down his backpack. At that moment we all realized the sound was coming from the bag. I was both astonished and dismayed. What sort of person makes a little kitten spend a three hour train ride inside a backpack?
All eyes were glued to the backpack as the man reached in with one large hand, digging around inside.
Finally, he pulled out a small black cellphone, which he handed to his young son, who was looking extremely sheepish and embarrassed. The boy switched off the alarm, then his father put the phone back into the bag, placed the bag back up in the overhead rack, and we continued on our way.