'It's not possible.'

Pierre woke up. He was still wearing the suit he wore last night. Fuck. Oh god please don't let it be past 7:30am. He looked at his phone. 9:30am. Fuck! He checked his messages.

"Hey man, we tried to wake you up but we couldn't. We had to head to the airport without you." - Alex

Fuck! Pierre had missed his ride to the airport. His flight was at noon out of Paris. Paris was an hour away by train, there was no way he was going to make it. He had never missed a flight. Why had he gotten so drunk? Stupid weddings. Stupid open bars. Stupid France. It was the champagne! He had come to France to attend the wedding of one of his dearest friends. The wedding took place in, what can only be described as, rural France. He was staying in a chateau that used to be an insane asylum with all of his friends from high school. It was now an Airbnb. He did not have a car. This was a huge mistake. When you are traveling to rural France you have to rent a car. You would think that there would be taxi services, and there are, but no one spoke English. Every time he would call a cab company he would get the same response. "It's not possible." The French loved to say, "It's not possible." It was their national slogan. They said it with such pleasure. Needless to say, getting a cab was impossible. That is why a ride with his friend Alex was so key. Alex and his wife were on the same flight and they had the foresight to rent a car. Everything was set, his bags were packed. All he had to do was make the car ride at 730am. He was so relieved last night to have everything all set. Which is probably why he let his guard down and got plastered.

He got out of bed in a panic. He was so hungover he was still drunk. And now he had to somehow manage to get to the airport in Paris with the worst hangover he has ever had. His head felt like there was a jackhammer being driven through it. He had a weird pain in his right arm. All his senses were dulled. He chugged the bottle of water that was next to his bed. He got up and went outside his room into the hallway. He saw his friend Sam heading down the stairs.

"Dude, what happened last night?" asked Pierre.
"You got hammered, bro. We had to help you back to the chateau. Wait, did you miss your flight?" asked Sam. Pierre vaguely remembered Sam helping him back to his room last night.
"Yup, missed it clean. Thank you so much for last night, sorry to put you through that," said Pierre earnestly.
"It's all good man. You weren't the only one that needed assistance," said Sam with a chuckle.
"No really, thank you. How are people getting to the airport?"
"Well, we have a ride. Maybe talk to Mark or Joe. I heard they got cabs going to the train station, maybe you can go with them." Pierre knew Sam had a ride with another one of their friends. Their car was full.

Pierre knocked on Joe's door.

"Come in," said Joe from the inside. Pierre went in. Joe was still in his underwear sitting on the side of his bed with his head in his hands.
"Yo, how are you guys getting to the train station?" asked Pierre.
"Dude, I'm so hungover," replied Joe. It's unclear if he was capable of listening in his present state. "Wait, did you miss your flight?"
"No, I'm actually on it right now. How are you guys getting to the train station?"
"We have cabs coming at 11. The train's at 1140. How did we get so drunk last night?"
"It was the fucking champagne. Is there space for me?"
"Yeah, there should be. Oh man, this is the worst hangover I have ever had."

Pierre felt relieved. At least he had a way back to Paris now. He would just have to go to the airport and figure it out. Hopefully, they can put him on the next flight at no cost. These things happen, right? He walked out of Joe's room into the hallway. He saw Mark casually strolling down the hallway.

"Dude, did you miss your flight?" asked Mark.
"No, the flight missed me. But the good news is I'm riding with you guys to the train station," replied Pierre.
"Damn. Are you going to the brunch?" asked Sam. There was a post-wedding brunch a half mile away from the chateau at 10am.
"Nah man, I am in no shape to be around people. Think I'm going to lay down till the cabs come."
"Ok, make sure you buy a ticket for the train."

Pierre got on his phone and tried to buy the ticket. The 1140 train was sold out. Fucking perfect. There was another train at 1 but it took 4 hours to get to Paris. He thought about it for a minute and then decided he would just board the 1140 train without a ticket. He couldn't stay at this place for another second. You did not need a ticket to board the train, they checked tickets once you were already on. By that time he would already be halfway to Paris. What were they going to do, kick him off the train? He would pay whatever they needed him to pay.

Before going back to his room he went downstairs to see if there was breakfast. The chateau usually prepared breakfast in the morning but they might not have it today because of the brunch. To his surprise, there was! Most of his friends had either left for the brunch or left the chateau to return to Paris. He made himself a croissant with turkey and cheese. He was famished. He ate two sandwiches and drank as much orange juice as he could. He went up to his room, took his clothes off, packed his clothes, put on clean clothes, and then got into bed. It was 9:50, and the cabs were coming at 11. He set his alarm for 1045 and closed his eyes.

Pierre woke up to someone knocking on his door.

"There are cabs outside waiting for you guys," said Ollie. Ollie was the chef at the chateau. Pierre looked at his phone.
"It's only 1030, they are supposed to be here at 11," said Pierre.
"Ok well, they are here now. Maybe you should go talk to them," said Ollie.
"Ok, I will head down in a minute."

He went to the window in the hallway and looked down. There they were, two cabs ready to go to the train station. The cab drivers were standing outside, looking very restless. He went back into his room to finish his packing. He did a final sweep of the room, took his bags down the stairs, and went outside. The cabs were gone. Well, this was strange. Where did the cabs go? He walked back into the house and saw that Ollie was cleaning up the breakfast spread.

"Where did the cabs go?" asked Pierre.
"I think they left," replied Ollie.
"Why would they leave? They know we have to get to the train station."
"I don't know. Maybe you're friends called different cabs."
"Is that possible?"
"It's possible, they came at the wrong time it appears."
"Well either way I have to get to the train station. Would you mind speaking to the cab companies for me? I don't speak French."
"Yes I can do that, or I can drive you myself."
"You would do that?"
"Of course, I'll add it to the bill for the chateau."

Pierre got on the phone with a cab company and handed the phone to Ollie. It was not possible. No more cabs. Pierre decided it was best to go with Ollie. He put his luggage in the back of Ollie's BMW and got into the passenger seat. Ollie started driving. On their way out of the chateau, Pierre saw Mark and Joe walking the other way, back from the brunch. Pierre waved goodbye, he figured they had other cabs coming. Also, their flights were the next day so they could always take a later train.

Ollie had always intrigued Pierre. Ollie was an older guy with a thick German accent. Why a man of his age and je ne sais quoi would choose to work in bumble fuck France, Pierre could not understand. Ollie seemed like the most interesting man in the world. A regular silver fox. Why was he wasting his life at the chateau? Maybe there was something between him and the other (female) caretaker.

"So where did you get you're start in cooking?" asked Pierre trying to probe.
"Oh, I have been all over. I started in Berlin, had a restaurant in Paris, and worked on a cruise. I have been a chef for 40 years," replied Ollie.
"What brought you to the chateau?"
"Julia. She made me a good offer and I really didn't have anything else at the time." Julia was the caretaker of the chateau.
"Did you ever marry?"
"I had a few long-term girlfriends but that is all in the past now. Now I am happy here."
"Don't you want to be in a bigger city with more people?"
"I have done all that. Once you get a bit older you realize all you want is some peace and quiet." So cool and yet so wise.

Pierre's phone started ringing. It was Mark. Pierre picked up the phone.

"Hello," said Pierre.
"Yo, can you guys come back and get us?" asked Mark very somberly.
"What?" said Pierre in disbelief.
"Can you come back and get us?"
"What happened to you're cabs?" Pierre looked at Ollie. Ollie looked back at him. Ollie knew.
"They left and canceled. They had another pickup."
"Dude it's 11:10, it going to take us 10 minutes to get back, and it's a 20-minute drive to the station."
"Please."

Pierre removed the phone from his ear and looked at Ollie.

"Can we go back and get them?" asked Pierre.

Without responding Ollie made a U-turn on the country road and started picking up speed back to the chateau.

"We're coming," said Pierre into his phone. He hung up.

"Do you think we can still make the train station in time?" asked Pierre to Ollie.
"Oh yes. I have done the drive in less than 10 minutes," replied Ollie calmly. Ollie was cooler than the other side of the pillow.

They hurried back to the chateau. Pierre was getting nervous that they were going to miss the train but, at this point, it was better to be left stranded with his friends than to be the only one to make the train. When they got back to the chateau, Mark and Joe packed their things into Ollie's car. Julia, the caretaker, had also agreed to drive two more of their friends. They would add it to the bill for the chateau of course. The time was 11:25. They had 15 minutes to get to the train station. The race against time was on.

Ollie started driving like he was James Bond. Anytime he hit a straight away he would push north of 100 mph. These were back country roads. He made the other cars look like horse-drawn carriages. He would pass every car in any way he could. Anytime that he would get behind a car that was driving slow, Ollie would get angry and blurt out, "Get off you're ass you lazy Frenchmen!" or "The car is meant to drive, not sit!" Every time Ollie would pick up speed, Pierre would look back at Mark and Joe who were holding on for dear life. You could tell they were thinking, "Is this really happening?" Pierre was surprisingly calm. In his current state, he was more than happy to die in a vehicular accident. At least his hangover would be gone. The only one driving faster than Ollie on the road was Julia. She passed Ollie. Then Ollie passed her. It was as if a race had broken out between them. Julia won the race as she got to the station first. Pierre checked his phone. 1137.

"See, no need to worry," said Ollie as he pulled up to the train station.
"Ollie, you're a legend," said Pierre as they got out of the car. Mark and Joe shared the sentiment.

The three of them got out of the car, grabbed their things, and started running to the platform. There were a lot of other people from the wedding waiting for the train. Pierre tried to avoid any conversation. He was in no mood to bring up last night. Then he ran into a few of the women he had gotten to know throughout the few days that they were at the chateau. It would be rude to ignore them.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" asked Sally. Sally was a part of the American military. She was living in Brussels. She had made a few passes at Pierre throughout their stay but Pierre wasn't interested.
"Pretty terrible. I went a little too hard last night, missed my flight, and now I'm here," replied Pierre.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry. Just go to the airport, they will get you on a new flight."
"Yeah, that's the plan."
"You're a great dancer by the way!"
"Really?"
"Yeah, you killed it on the dance floor."
"Oh god, I probably embarrassed myself."
"No way, you were the life of the party. You danced with everyone."
"Everyone?" Pierre vaguely recalled this.
"Everyone."
"Well, I danced with my toilet back at the chateau. That's the only dance I remember." Sally laughed.

See that's the problem with alcohol. You can have a great night, make a ton of memories, and not remember any of it. All you have to show for it is a headache, a bruise on you're arm, and a feeling of shame in your gut. If only there was a way to have the highs of alcohol without the backlash. If only life was that good.

The train pulled up to the station. Pierre helped Sally with her luggage and everyone got on the train. The train was packed but Pierre and Sally somehow managed to find seats next to each other. The second the train started moving again Pierre did not feel so good. He tried not to think about it. He had a bottle of water with him, he drank some of it. He tried to sleep, he really didn't want to talk. About 15 minutes into the ride Pierre opened his eyes. He felt sick. He had to vomit. A mouthful of vomit came up. He didn't have time to go to the bathroom so he covered his mouth. Green liquid sprayed out of the side of his hand.

"Saw that coming," said Sally as she grabbed her bag and got up from the seat. She walked down the aisle, away from Pierre.

Pierre didn't know what to do. He didn't want to vomit all over the train. He opened up his water bottle and spit all the vomit in his mouth into the water bottle. Surprisingly, he felt better right away. His sickness was gone. Thank God. He took a hand towel out of his bag and cleaned the little bit of vomit that had sprayed all over the place. He always kept a hand towel in his travel bag, you never know when things might need cleaning up. Surprisingly, after about five minutes, Sally came back to her seat. Pierre was stunned.

"Sorry about that, I feel a lot better now," said Pierre. He was tired of apologizing. Stupid alcohol.
"That's ok. Not so bad all things considered," replied Sally.

Pierre put on his headphones for the rest of the ride and pretended to sleep. He was too ashamed to say another word to Sally. The train pulled up to Paris and everyone proceeded to get off the train. No one ever checked for tickets. Once off the train, Pierre said goodbye to his friends. It had been one helluva trip but he was glad it was over. He missed home. He gave each one of his friends a hug. He offered a handshake to Sally, she probably didn't want to get too close to him all things considered. She bypassed the handshake and gave him a hug. Aw.

With that Pierre went his way and his friends went theirs. They were off to find accommodations for the night, and he was off to the airport. Pierre was tired of public transportation, so he decided to take a cab to the airport. He did not vomit once during that ride. The America Airlines section was basically empty when he got to the airport. This was not a good sign. He waited in line behind a cute girl. They were the only two people in this section of the airport. The cute girl finished talking with the attendant and stepped to the side.

"Hello, I missed my flight," said Pierre.
"Can I have your passport?" asked the attendant. Pierre gave her the passport. "Oh wow, you really missed your flight."
"Yeah."
"What happened?"
"I was in a rural part of the country and missed my ride to the airport. Had to take the train."
"Oh okay, it happens. There are no more flights today. We have put you on the first flight tomorrow."

Another day in France. Great. Pierre got his boarding pass, thanked the attendant, and got ready to leave. It was close to 3pm now, and he was still hungover. He looked at the cute girl. She was clearly on hold on a call and seemed a bit distressed. Why the hell not?

"Hey, is everything ok?" asked Pierre.
"No, my flight got canceled and now I have to stay in Paris another day. I'm fucked," replied the cute girl.
"Hey me too. I was about to call a cab and head back to the city. Want to share a ride?" asked Pierre making his move. The cute girl thought about it for a second. She hung up her phone.
"Sure."