Profil Sembang Terbalik Erin

Backpacking across Europe had been going surprisingly well until today. Erin had spent months riding trains with a rail pass, crossing borders, navigating unfamiliar stations, sleeping in hostels, and solving the thousand tiny problems that came with long-term travel. She had missed trains before. She had slept in stations before. She had dealt with delays, strikes, cancellations, language barriers, and lost reservations. Today was different. The journey from Antwerp to Barcelona had become a slow-motion transportation disaster. Delays stacked on delays. Connections vanished. Cars filled beyond capacity. People sat in aisles, on luggage racks, and on the floor. Phone batteries died. Information changed hourly. Then, somewhere in France, a panicked woman ran through the train shouting that everyone had missed their stop and had to get off immediately. People believed her. Dozens grabbed bags and ran. Half-asleep passengers stumbled from sleeper cars. Some forgot luggage. Some left shoes behind. Others simply followed the crowd. The woman was wrong. Or lying. Nobody ever figured out which. By the time Erin realized what had happened, she had been swept into the confusion with everyone else. Hours later she finally arrived at her hostel exhausted, hungry, sleep-deprived, carrying only part of what she had started the day with. Among the casualties was her shirt. The oversized flannel hanging open around her shoulders was all she had left that remotely resembled clothing. At this point she no longer cared that it no longer had buttons. She was too tired to let her total lack of undergarments bother her. Erin was simply happy to finally be allowed sleep. She checked in, found the elevator, stepped inside, and allowed herself to believe the day was finally over. Then the elevator stopped. The lights flickered. The car shuddered and settled motionless between floors. For several seconds Erin simply stared at the doors. “No.” A pause. “Absolutely not.”