Nightride: Part Two

It was ten minutes before my train was supposed to arrive, and the station was packing up for the night. The train was the last one for the night, and though it wouldn't have been first time sleeping at a spot like this (Denver has a cozy little bus station, FYI) I wasn't in a hurry to add train stations to the list. 

I looked at the Purple Monster, it looked back at me. 56 pounds didn't seem like much yesterday morning getting it into the airport, but they were adding on now. My friend Tori had helped me pick it out back at school, and I had to admit, it was a solid roller. But considering it held most of my life inside of it, I was testing its limits. I'd prayed a lot on this trip, and I hoped one more little one wouldn't hurt. Please, Lord, I know if I have to I can get me and my stuff there. But I'm getting tired, and it would be amazing if I didn't have to do it all by myself. I know it's my stuff, not theirs, but I'd be so grateful. Then I stood up and grabbed my bags.

With minimal effort I wheeled everything to the back of the crowd, and the female officer double checked my ticket. Then the officers started to address our group, and they had a lot to say. Considering all they had told me was "Masan, last stop" I started to wonder if all of the direction giving was 100% necessary to the process since clearly those three words were all the direction I needed. Then finally they waved at us and we were moving. 

Catching my 100th wind, I kept along at a steady pace towards the escalators with the group, only to be redirected by the male officer to an elevator. Once down, we moved quickly to catch up with the rest of the group that had taken the escalator. The female officer had waited behind and when she was satisfied we would catch up she spun to catch up with the rest. The force of her turn knocked her jacket off its perch on her purse without her noticing. Those ahead waiting for us yelled to her, and I tried to process what the right thing to say would be. With only Spanish coming to mind, I gave up and picking it up held it towards her. She took it, a little hesitantly it seemed, but thanked me. Her hesitation made me newly aware of my "quarantined" status, and I realized she might have preferred I didn't touch it. It was what it was though, and I tried to shake it off while I joined the group waiting for the train. 

After barely any time there was a great rumbling and blast of a horn, then the train came, down the tunnel looking like heaven with its bright lights and white front. I hovered in the back, letting everyone get on ahead of me. I was conscious of how big my bag was, but suddenly too tired to really think about the best way to deal with it. I had my duffel bag on top of it, and while I could take it off and carry it on my shoulder that would be bulky getting on the train, and would make it harder to get the Purple Monster on the train. 

It turned out my worrying wasn't necessary. When I rolled up to the train, I went up the stairs first, then turned to pull the Purple Monster up behind me. But the male officer was already attempting to lift it up onto the step. He was huffing, and I didn't blame him. He wasn't a big guy, and it was a big bag. I reached forward to grab the handle when one of the other passengers reached from behind me and lifted it carefully into the train. I bowed my thanks, and moved forward towards the seats. Just before entering the car there was a place to stow the bigger luggage, and I tried to quickly get everything separated and stowed. My fingers were clumsy, and while I had strapped the duffel to the Monster plenty of times, my motions now were jerky and stumbling. I smiled apologetically at the man who had helped since I knew I was holding him up. But he waited patiently, eyes crinkled in a smile that was calming and not at all hurried. 

Eventually I had it done, and wheeled the Mini Monster and myself to my seat. One of my friends here had said that it looked exactly like the seats in Train to Busan, and she was right. It was easy to imagine Gong Yoo and his group of survivors crawling above the seats on the luggage racks while the lifeless horde moaned below them. I chuckled as I realized my position made me a zombie in that scenario. Catching a glimpse of myself in the window though, I realized the comparison wasn't entirely far-fetched. The zombies would have just taken me in, no questions asked. I tried to avoid looking into the window after that.

Considering my battery's limitations I sent final messages sent to L and E, letting them know I was on the train. Then one last message to DG, lying and saying I was sure I'd sleep on the train. The I set my phone down, strictly telling myself no more messages until I'd arrived. At 30% battery and three hours to go, I couldn't risk it. 

It was a long three hours, and unfortunately I was right in my prediction. I didn't sleep a wink. Maybe if I had been able to take the mask off I'd have been successful, but between that and the light it was impossible. And honestly, I was at the point of tired where I didn't think I'd ever be able to sleep again. I started tracking my time in stations, watching the little map getting ever nearer to Masan. At the Busan stop, the man who'd helped with my bag stood to get off. I smiled and nodded to him, trying to express all the heartfelt gratitude of an exhausted waegukin (foreigner). His eyes crinkled back, and then I was off again. 

Changwon station came, and I knew we had to be close. Sure enough, Masan was the next stop. Those last ten minutes crept past, but eventually we were slowing to a stop. 

I again waited for everyone else to get off, not wanting an audience for my struggle with the Purple Monster. When the time came, I pulled the duffel down, and slipped it over my shoulder, then pulled up the Purple Monster. A crowd greeted me at the foot of the steps, and a smiling face asked "Shyla?". Relieved that someone here was looking for me, I nodded. I started lowering my bag when a young man in the crowd reached forward and took it out of my hands. Deftly he set it down and made sure I didn't need help getting off the train. Then without relinquishing his hold on the Purple Monster, he gathered those of us who were left like a flock of chickens and herded us out of the station. 

One of the many heroes of my trip, he probably amazed me the most. He seemed small enough to fit in the bag himself, and it seemed he couldn't weigh much more than it did either. I knew it couldn't be possible that grown man weighed less then 60 pounds, but I became increasingly more convinced of it as we continued. But that wasn't all. By the time we were down the escalator and out of the station, he had not only my bag, but the large bag of one of the 할머니 (grandmothers) in the other hand. All the while keeping all of us successfully in place.

The night air was refreshing and I would have loved to take my mask offf and enjoy its coolness, but there would be plenty of time for that when I got to my apartment. We headed to the side of the street where three mini vans waited for us. On closer inspection I realized that they were equipped as emergency transport vehicles, complete with lights on top and medical-looking electronics all over the place. 

Our guide was busily directing people, and then gestured me towards one of the minivans. The driver came out and opened the trunk, where our guide proceeded to deposit the Purple Monster with a grunt. The driver, someone who definitely would not have fit in my suitcase, reached over to help, but it wasn't necessary. Then they added the bags of another girl, and we were in the van and on our way to our final destinations. 

Much to my surprise the girl with me started a conversation with me in English. Her English name was Lindsey and she had been studying in India before impending transportation closures had made it prudent for her to come home. It was comforting to have someone who spoke English so well, though I was tired enough that my ability to participate in the conversation was pretty limited. 

There was chirping from the GPS up front with our driver, and he said something back to us in Korean. Apparently we had gotten to my apartment, but it wasn't clear which house was mine. I felt like I was at somewhat of a disadvantage. Unlike Lindsey I wasn't returning home. I didn't know the street, I didn't know the country. This was not a deterrent to my driver though. Turning around on the street he pulled across an entryway to an alley, and turning his hazards on got out of the van. Soon he was jogging cheerfully up and down the street looking for the address. The streetlights casting shadows of his tall frame on the houses as he went.

We both got out and joined him, and I started shuffling through the images on my messenger trying to find a picture of the front of the house. I found the picture at the same time our driver shouted "여기요!" (here!) and pointed to a house a little down the street from where we were parked. I ran up to him and showed him the picture. We compared the picture to the house and nodded at each other happily. Then he started off back to the van, saying something to Lindsey (presumably something about getting my things) and Lindsey started wandering around the house to find where my apartment was. 

I will be forever grateful for her being there that night, because my experience with house apartments the main door generally lead to a separate entryway that went to the main level, and one to upper. She however, went walking down the long sidewalk that ran along the house. I followed her and she pointed to a little turn off at the right where there was a narrow set of stairs. These likely led to the apartments, making me really grateful I hadn't tried breaking into the main door at 1AM. That was not the kind of first meeting I wanted to have with my landlady. 

The ambulance had van pulled up, and the driver was unloading my bags. Lindsey stood with me while he unloaded and we talked about getting together after we both finished quarantine. Then with the bags unloaded, and my apartment identified, they got ready to leave. Lindsey asked if I'd be fine, and though I told her yes, I was lying through my teeth. I didn't know 100% that my apartment would be at the top of those stairs, and if it wasn't, I didn't have a way to reach L without WiFi. If they left, the driver would be taking the only working phone I had accessible to me. But at the time I didn't have the energy to worry about it. The Purple Monster was staring at me from its perch on the sidewalk with Mini Monster and the duffel, and I knew my long night wasn't over. But I smiled big so she could see the smile crinkles in the light from the street lamp, and bowed my thank you's. 

She turned to go get in the van, but paused when the driver spoke to her. She responded, and then gestured up to the top of the house. The driver looked over at the Purple Monster, then at me. He said something else, and then move forward, grabbing the Monster by the handle. I was so grateful. Words cannot express how grateful. I promised myself someday I'd find him again when I could speak Korean and by then maybe I'd have the words for it.

He waited for me to grab the duffel and Mini Monster, then we headed down the alley to the stairway. Motion sensors triggered the lights, revealing the set of ominously narrow stairs, and I wondered again if we were going to the right place. Setting down Mini, I tried to convey to the driver that he could wait while I double checked that my apartment was actually up there. I went up with more energy than I felt, more lights switching on as I reached the landing. Though it was narrow, there were doors, and the doors had numbers. Finally realizing that maybe I was finally there, I started looking for my apartment number. Of the four doors mine was the last that I found, more due to anxiety than because the door was anywhere except right in front of my face.

I pulled up my notes with the password to the door, and started fiddling with the slide to the number pad. The driver must have heard the musical dinging of the slide, and suddenly he was there with the Purple Monster at the top of the stairs. Mini Monster was all that was left to bring up, and he gestured toward the steps. Smiling though I shook my head, and gave him a thank you bow. He bobbed happily back to me, and so I bobbed back, still incredibly overwhelmed by his kindness. In addition to that, the exchange felt so entirely Korean I could have cried if I'd had the energy. After a couple more bobs he reached the head of the stairs. He said something I think was along the lines of "good luck" and with a final bow to each other he was gone.

Once he was out of sight I paused to take a breath as I eyed the door. Pushing up the cover to the keypad I typed the password my boss had sent me. It chirped encouragingly, but didn't open. I wasn't too disheartened though. I knew from reading my friend's blog that she'd struggled with the passcode for her door on her first night, and she'd been able to figure it out. I just hadn't figured it out yet was all. Deciding to give my brain a chance to think, I went to retrieve Mini Monster. 

As I hauled it up the stairs I thought about what I knew of the apartment. The teacher who had lived here before me said that she had shared WiFi with the neighbors and in blessed foresight had sent me the password and username. That being the case it had to be sending out in a wide enough radius that I could likely access it from outside the apartment. Leaning against the wall across from my door, I connected to the WiFi and texted L asking about how to use the code. I knew we would eventually figure the code out, but whether or not we could do it before I locked myself out with too many attempts remained to be seen. 

L responded, saying it should be as simple as typing in the password. This meant that it wasn't the code that was wrong, but how I was inputting it. I eyed the keypad looking for an obvious "enter" kind of button. I tried a couple, with little success. L suggested trying the pound sign, which I had already attempted. The lights flickered off from the lack of movement at the head of the stairs, and I was left with the glow of the keypad. It was then something clicked in my mind. A replay of someone unlocking their apartment from one of the dramas I'd seen, complete with the same key tones and music. The image was so familiar, that before is had finished I realized what I had missed. Following it step by step, I typed in the password but this time, I slid down the cover. The keypad chirped in unison with the one from my memory, and the door unlocked. 

I didn't scream in triumph. Because that would wake up the neighbors. Barely taking note of the interior, I hauled my bags into the apartment, and then shut the door, collapsing onto the floor in relief. 32 hours after leaving the Midwest it was 1:37AM, and I had arrived at my final destination.

-Shayla