UNFORESEEN EVENTS   Book II – Part I

The night train from London arrived at the Munich terminal on a morning in late September. Ethan Wells stepped onto the platform, shouldered his pack and walked into the main building. Once inside he observed countless people going about their business. Many stood in lines at ticket windows. Others were having food and drinks on stand-up counters near the various concessions. Still others shopped at the many kiosks in the great hall.

Ethan approached a uniformed German policeman to ask directions. “Bitte Officier, wo ist die Theresienwiese?” 

The policeman responded, “Ah, you are here for Oktoberfest.”

“You speak English?”

“Ya. Velcome to München. Zo… you leave by za main door and get on Tram A4. It takes you five minutes.”

“That sounds easy. Thank you.”

“Viel Glück junger mann.”

“And good luck to you sir.”

As Ethan walked towards the main exit he heard a loud voice.

“Wells!” He stopped in his tracks looking in the direction where the shout came from. Three young men approached him. The man in the center lifted his dark glasses, looking incredulous. “Ethan Wells!”

“Sandy?”

“Jesus, man. What are you doing here?”

“Might ask you the same.”

“I’m in the Army. Stationed in Augsburg.”

The two men shook hands with broad grins on their faces. Ethan and Sandford Lederer had been classmates in high school. They were good friends and fellow athletes on gymnastics teams.

“So come on Ethan, what gives?”

“I came here for the Oktoberfest.”

“That’s why we’re here. Oh. Let me introduce you. This is Warren Conner and Guy King. Fellas, say hello to my old friend, Ethan Wells.” 

The young men all shook hands, smiling and nodding.

“So, should we head on over to the fairgrounds?” said Conner.

“You mean Theresienwiese,” said King.

“You know what I mean.”

“Ethan,” said Sandy, “what are you going to do with the backpack?”

“Oh, yah. Do you know where the lockers are?”

“On your left,” said King, “down that hallway.”

“Do you have Deutchmarks?” said Sandy.

“I do, got some in London. I’ll be right back.”

When the four exited the train station Ethan viewed the historic setting.

“Wow. Germany,” said Ethan.

“Your first time here,” said Sandy.

“Yah. You guys hungry?”

“I am,” said King.

“There’s a nice little Frühstückhaus about a block away,” said Connor.

“Frühstückhaus?” said Ethan.

“Breakfast,” said Sandy. “The Münchner Stubn. Very tasty food.”

The four arrived at the restaurant and were seated in the main dining room at a round oak table. They ordered a platter of sausages, eggs and pastries. Ethan ordered coffee, the others ordered beer.

“Little early for beer,” said Ethan.

“Hey, it’s Oktoberfest,” said Sandy. “So Ethan, it’s been what two years since you left LA?”

“More like three.”

“You were in a band, right?”

“The Blue Palmetto Orchestra. We toured all over America. I was with the band for more than a year, and then I set out on this journey.”

“Last I heard, you were somewhere in Africa. Then you kind of dropped out of sight. Some thought you were dead.”

“I know. For a while I thought I was.”

“Meaning?”

“I got real sick in Kenya. In a village near Lake Victoria.”

“With what?”

“Don’t know. I laid on a cot in a local infirmary for more than a month. I was cared for by nurses and, uh, witch doctors.”

“Witch doctors,” said King.

“I think so. I was delirious most of the time. But eventually I got back on my feet and they sent me on my way.”

“God,” said Sandy. “And you didn’t come home.”

“Thought about it. Thought about it a lot. But I had promised myself I would travel all the way around the world.”

“So you endured,” said King.

“I suppose I did.”

“Where did you go from there?” said Connor.

“Made my way to the port of Mombassa and got a ship to Malaga, Spain.”

“From Kenya to Spain,” said Sandy. 

“I know. It sounds exotic doesn’t it. I was just following my instincts. I knew our old friend Stewart Miller was living in a village near Malaga. At that point I just wanted to connect with a friend.”

“What do you do for money?” said Connor. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I saved a good sum when I toured with the orchestra. I have a bank account with American Express, which I draw on from time to time. Also I work when and where I can.”

“Doing what?”

“This and that. So far, mostly as a merchant seaman.”

“How did you get into that?” said Sandy.

“I got lucky. In New Orleans a friend of a friend got me to fill a vacancy on a freighter that was outward bound for South America. They issued me an international Z-card, which qualifies me as an able-bodied seaman. Now I can crew on any ship anywhere in the world.”

“Splendid,” said King.

“So that’s how you got from Africa to Spain,” said Connor.

“Yah. That was a tramp steamer. The SS Capulet. It made stops in a dozen ports along the way. The trip took three months.”

“Did you get to see Miller?” said Sandy. 

“No. By the time I got to the village of Mijas, in Spain, he’d returned to the states to get married.”

“That’s right,” said Sandy, “he married Melora Taylor. I was at the wedding. That was what, a year, year and a half ago.”

“Sounds right.”

“It’s a shame what happened,” said Sandy.

“I know,” said Ethan.

“So you’ve been in Spain all this time.”

“I spent more than a year in Mijas. Rented a small house at the edge of town.”

“What’d that cost?” said Sandy.

“Twenty bucks a month.”

“Good God!” said Connor.

“I know,” said Ethan. “Spain is a real find for travelers.”

“What did you do for a year?” said King.

“They had an English library in Mijas, so I hunkered down and did a lot of reading. I bought an old motorcycle to get around on and, y’know, just lived.” 

“What was Mijas like?” said Connor.

“It was nice. Old world. Whitewashed buildings, narrow, winding cobblestone streets, Ocean air. Lovely people. The climate reminded me of the Palisades. And… there was a woman.”

“Now you have our attention,” said Sandy.

to be continued…