Rolling Traveler

I’m supposed to be going to Hanover on Friday, and while the trip is now in doubt because the tail end of the cold I brought back from Poland has turned into the flu, complete with shivers and aches, I had already gone through the process of booking a train ticket, and what a process it was. Deutsche Bahn run a generally good service that I’m satisfied with, but with being sick, the run-around of trying to make the seat reservation was more than a little irritating. German institutions tend to have rules and procedures, and people with authority love reminding you of them.

 As I’ve mentioned before, it’s important to call and let them know when you’re traveling with a wheelchair, just in case there’s a reason you can’t travel. In the case of the Inter-City Express trains in Germany, the issue is one of space: there are only a couple of wheelchair berths per train, sometimes only one. You have to reserve the berth or risk not being able to travel at the time you wanted, because they can’t take more wheelchairs that they have berths. However, you can’t reserve the berth online: I’ve always had to do it by phone. Not this time though.

I booked the ticket online at the Deutsche Bahn web site, with no problems, and then called the Mobility Service line to get the berth reservation (01805 512 512, if you’re in Germany). The lady I spoke to was very friendly and helpful, but in that stereotyped German way, she was all about the rules. She wouldn’t make the berth reservation for me because she said that I needed a German ID card stating that I am disabled to get a free berth reservation, and that since I needed to pay, I would have to make the reservation in person at a railway station. She gave me all the information I need to get the ID, which I’ve never bothered with because I’ve never needed it before, and she said as soon as I made the reservation, she’d book the service to get me on and off the train, but there was no budging her on making the reservation by phone. Even telling her that I’ve made the reservation without the ID several times didn’t help.

So, the next morning, feeling the start of the flu coming on in that creeping-up-my-back-and-into-my-joints way, I went to the main station, got into line, waited, waited, and finally tried to make the reservation. I say tried, because the young lady behind the counter didn’t seem to want to make the reservation initially.

 “You should have called the Mobility Service,” she said, templing her fingers and looking at me over them.

 “I did. Your colleague said I couldn’t make the reservation by phone because I don’t have the disability ID card. She said I’d have to pay for it.”

 “No, you don’t have to pay for it. It’s free. You can make the reservation by phone.”

 “Well… okay, look, I’m here now. Is there no way you can make the reservation here?”

 “Oh, sure, no problem. I can make your reservation, I’m just telling you how it should be done.” It took her five mouse clicks to make and print the reservation, and she didn’t want any money for it. “Here you are. Now go to the service counter and book assistance to get you on and off the train.”

 I went up to the service counter at the front of the station, and stood in line, and then, when it was my turn, it was lesson time again.

 “No,” said the man at the counter, “we don’t have the forms for ordering assistance here. I’d have to go and print one. If you call the Mobility Service line, they can book you for a time. I can give you the number.”

If I’d had more energy, I would’ve screamed. Not that it would’ve helped: I’m sure someone would have just helpfully told me the right place to go to make a complaint.

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