Twelve minutes

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This has been a pretty busy couple of weeks. I realized yesterday that over the last nine days I have slept in five different hotels, once on an airplane, and only three times at home. Things will improve a lot soon, but stretches like this strain my internal clock and make wonder where I am when I wake up in the morning.

I started yesterday morning in Bern, Switzerland, after arriving there from London the previous day. I had flown from London City Airport to Zurich and then taken a train down to Bern. My schedule yesterday was to give a talk at OpenExpo in the morning, listen to a couple of talks, do a couple of interviews, be on a panel, and then run to my next location.

The “running” meant getting from the conference to the train station, catching a train to Zurich, getting to another train to Stuttgart, and arrive at the hotel late last night. While I think I focused pretty well on most of the day’s events, my mind kept going back to the connection in Zurich: I has twelve minutes to change trains.

In the US this would have been hopeless. The first train more than likely would have been late, I would have missed the connection, and had to deal with being stuck somewhere in the evening.

However, I was not in the US, I was in Switzerland. Trains run on time. People told me that I didn’t need to worry about the short connection, all would be fine.

As it turns out, I didn’t have twelve minutes. My colleague Peter got me to the train station in Bern early enough so that I could catch a train thirty minutes earlier than I had planned. I had forty two minutes in the Zurich HB. I got dinner, I relaxed, I got to my train in plenty of time.

So it was much ado and worry about nothing, but my bad travel experiences are still probably winning when compared to the ones that work out perfectly.

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