The train was nearing its final destination of Netanya, with
just one stop, Beit Yehoshua, to go. I sat watching the
familiar sights flit past me and felt a sense of satisfaction
that there was now a train to Beit Shemesh. I had been to see
my family and train travel does away with so many
uncertainties. There is no traffic problem, so the times of
departure and arrival are known. At Netanya, there is always
a bus waiting for the arrival of the latest train, so there
is no speculation about waiting or taking a cab. Besides, the
seats are comfortable and the scenery is so stunning that
while I always take something to read, I seldom get past more
than a paragraph or two.
There is some discussion over whether it is necessary to say
tefilas haderech on this journey because of the
habitation we pass on the way. However, we were told to say
it each time.
I was just thinking about this very question when the words,
"Next stop Beit Yehoshua" entered my consciousness. Two
minutes later, the station came in sight and three minutes
later, the station was behind us. There was a moment of
silence and I thought to myself, "Did I imagine that
announcement?" I turned to look at the exits and there were
people standing in a group, ready to disembark, amazed
expressions on their faces. Soon the silence was overtaken by
a steadily increasing swirl of meshed voices and sounds of
amazement, anger, worry and wonder.
One man said, "The train will have to reverse." Another said,
"Trains don't have a reverse."
The train drew to a halt and there we sat, in the middle of
two stations with dusk overtaking us. "We will be stopping
here for four minutes," came the voice over the
loudspeaker.
The cell phones were whipped out. "We were nearly at the
station and now we have passed it and stopped. Don't set out
to collect me until I call you again." Similar messages were
heard on all sides, some despairing, some worried and some
angry. Since no one was collecting me, I took out my train
timetable and saw that the next train to Netanya was due
quite soon. At this stage, I wasn't all that happy. I kept
reminding myself, "I said tefilas haderech at the
beginning of the journey."
Then there was a mumbled announcement and the train slowly
began to reverse. We came to a stop at Beit Yehoshua and a
number of passengers hurriedly disembarked. The train began
to crawl forward. It was now dark. Could a train coming from
the opposite direction and using these same tracks see us, I
wondered. How had the delay been dealt with? Had signals gone
up to warn that we had been delayed? Was this a standard
railway procedure, with everything under control, or was
there reason to worry?
The train inched its way forwards. It felt to me that the
engineer was none too confident that the line ahead was
clear. After what seemed an eternity, but was probably no
more than ten minutes, we arrived without incident, with a
sense of relief and thankfulness, at the Netanya station. The
solid cement platform beneath my feet was very reassuring.
Naturally, since we had arrived late, there was no bus
waiting. However, there is also a minivan service and there
the van was, with two disgruntled passengers sitting inside.
As we got in, they prodded the driver together, "Now will you
go?" The minivan was half empty so we waited. I used the time
to ask the driver if this new service ran according to a
specific timetable. Pleased with a diversion, he copied out
the timetable for me.
There was anger in the van. Having been delayed on the train,
everyone was now in a hurry to get home. I felt no anger. I
felt tremendous relief that we had arrived safely. I felt
pleased that I now knew the exact times of this service.
However, since the other passengers were voicing their
dissatisfaction, the driver set off.
We had not even left the station area when a call on his cell
phone ordered him back to collect passengers from the train
that had just arrived. We turned back and the voices around
me were raised in protest, but to no avail, as we arrived
back at the station and collected three more passengers, all
looking angry at their short wait.
I reached home about half an hour later than I had
anticipated. As I looked around the familiar surroundings,
the events of the previous hour came rushing at me in a
jumble. There was thankfulness that we had arrived without
mishap. There was a sense of wonder that a train driver had
actually made such a mistake. Was he new to the job? Was he
tired at the end of a long day? Was he a dreamer, a person
who should do some quite different job? Not every job is
suitable for every person. Had such an event happened before?
Would he be disciplined? Had the anger of the passengers
helped? It certainly had not played a positive role in
getting them home sooner, so what was the point of it?
Since I feel that every event should teach us something, I am
trying to draw a lesson from this journey. However, all I can
think about is that I am glad that the decision had been made
that we say tefilas haderech -- on this journey in
particular.
