Slipping Along the I.C.E.

The temperature dropped steadily as October dragged into November. However, Stuttgart’s first snowfall came as quick as a snap. On Friday night, the streets were plain and gray. By Saturday morning, they were white with snow. Icicles hung from every tree branch.

Inside the Muller house, everyone was snuggled into bed except ßilver, who was curled over the vent in the piano room.Throughout the night, winter winds slithered along the floor, biting at the little gray dog. In an effort to keep warm, he sneaked to the boys’ room and snuggled next to Max.

Frau Muller was the first to get out of bed. She fixed a glass of juice and fetched the newspaper from the front step. Winter winds slithered along the floor and crawled into Max’s bed. The cold air drove ßilver from his sleep – and also from the bed.He jumped out of bed as he did every morning. The first business was to do his business.

“Arf! Arf!” he yapped.

Max tucked his head beneath his pillow.

ßilver barked again, His tail wagged so eagerly that the rest of his body wagged, too.

“Max! Take your dog outside!” said Johann.

Max slid into his slippers and threw on his robe.ßilver scurried to the front door and waited. Max shuffled along behind him. As soon as Max opened the door, out went the dog and in rushed a chill winter breeze.

ßilver bounced from snowdrift to snowdrift, disappearing between each leap.

“Come on, ßilver! Hurry along!”

The little gray dog stopped and looked back at Max. He jumped through the snow a few more times and stopped again. Finally, he found a low spot and went to the restroom.The little gray dog played in the snow as long as he could before returning to the house.

“I don’t know how you can stand that cold air,” Max said to the dog, “I cannot stand winter.”

“So much you wouldn’t want to go see your Grand-papa and Grand-mama in Munich?” asked Herr Muller.

“I don’t dislike Winter that much.”

“Let’s get some breakfast and then I’ll help you pack your suitcase.”Max and his father joined Frau Muller at the kitchen table. Herr Muller filled two large bowls with Muesli and Milk. They sat quietly as they chomped on the bran cereal. Max began daydreaming about Munich.

“Mama, aren’t you excited about Munich?”

“It’s just me and you,” interrupted his father.

“It is?”

“I have some work I wanted to do today.”

Max nodded thoughtfully. It had been a long time since he had been to Munich. He missed sledding on the hills and playing hockey on the frozen ponds near his Grandparent’s house.After breakfast, Max went to his bedroom and stuffed his duffel bag with clothes. His father appeared a few moments later.

“Should I bring my skates?”

“If you’d like.”

Max tied the laces of his skates together and hung them around the handle of his duffel bag. Max tried lifting the bag, but it was too heavy. Herr Muller carried it to the car for him instead.After they loaded their bags into the car, Frau Muller got into the car with Max and his father.

“Mama, I thought you weren’t going.”

“I’m taking you to the train station.”

“Oh, I just thought…” said Max.

“I thought it would be nice to take the train to Munich,” said his father.

“Plus, I need the car to run errands,” added his mother.

Max rode to the train station with two large duffel bags, which hogged the back seat. When they finally arrived, Max hopped over the side of the car.

“Max! You know better than that!” scolded his father.

Max nodded apologetically, but he was still glad to be out of the cramped back seat. Herr Muller unloaded the back seat of the car. Max snatched his duffel bag and carried it towards the entrance. Herr Muller reached out a helping hand.

“I’ve got it,” said Max.

“Maxie, give me a kiss before you leave,” said his mother.

Max leaned forward and the weight of the duffel bag almost tipped him over. Max let go of the bag and it hit the ground with a thud.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” offered Herr Muller.

“Papa, I’ve got it,” said Max again. He grunted as he lifted the bag off the ground. He walked quickly towards the train station. His momentum carried him up the steps and to the door.

Herr Muller followed Max to the entrance and held the door open. Inside, the station was crowded with people. Some walked this way and that, but most were in the rows of seats facing another set of doors. Just beyond the doors, Max could see the train tracks.

“Find a seat while I get the tickets.”

Max tugged his duffel bag through the aisle to the front row of seats. A group of backpackers were seated on one side and an old couple sat on the other. Max chose the side with the backpackers.

They used their backpacks as back rests and pillows as they waited for the train. Max dragged his duffel bag alongside the backpackers, dropping it in front of his seat. It landed with a thud. Some of the backpackers looked over at Max.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” said one of the boys sitting in the huddle.

Max thudded into a chair. It was made of hard plastic, but Max still preferred it over the tiny back seat of the Porsche. He stretched his legs and closed his eyes.

His father plopped down on the chair beside Max. Max glanced over at his father. Both of Herr Muller’s hands were full.

“I thought you still might be hungry, so I bought a breakfast burrito.”
“What kind?” asked Max.

“Sausage, eggs, and cheese.”

“That sounds good.”

Max took a few bites, but realized his stomach was full. Herr Muller finished both burritos just as the train pulled into the station.

Max immediately went to the window and looked down the tracks. A sleek white bullet train pulled alongside the terminal. A long, red racing stripe went down the length of the train. The letters I C E were painted on the first car. The Inter City Express had arrived.

A load of passengers emerged from the train, passing by Max and his father. The train had come from Paris, France. After it passed through Munich, it would head onward to Salzburg, Austria. Like Germany linked Europe, so too did it’s train system link the cities of Europe.

Max gave his ticket to the porter and boarded the train. A porter carried his duffel bag through the passenger cars. The cut between two rows. Each row was two seats wide.

“Here it is, seat 13B,” said the porter. He opened the overhead bin and stuffed Max’s duffel inside.
Max sat down just long enough to have his father come to claim seat 13A, next to the window. Max fastened his lap belt and pulled on the loose end, tightening it around his waist. Now, he waited for the train to depart.

“We’re not leaving for a little while,” said his father.

Max eased into his seat while passengers continued to board the train. He turned his head and looked out the window.

“Do you want to switch seats?” said his father.

“Not really,” said Max.

Still, he continued watching the people outside. The groups shrunk as people filtered onto the train. Moments after the terminal emptied, the train’s engines whirred to life.

“Here we go,” said father.

“Here we go,” repeated Max.

As the train accelerated, the loud whirring sound faded, replaced by a low, rumble of the train gliding over the tracks. As always, the Intercity Express left the big city slowly, but once they reached the outskirts, the train accelerated at a constant pace.

The Intercity Express traveled much faster than cars on the Autobahn, but Max felt very safe in the bullet train. Even the low rumbling disappeared as the train skated along the steel rails, pushed along by electromagnets.

A crisp and cold scene passed by the window in a blur. Farmhouses, covered in snow, dotted the landscape. Cows huddled next to barns and there was hardly a person out in the cold.

The train darted through tunnels. The inside of the train changed from light to dark and then back to light again. Warm air circulated through the train’s cabin. Max leaned back in his chair and turned his head away from the window. Within moments, he felt into a deep, comfortable sleep.

Just like the Autobahn, the rails of the I.C.E. extended north and south, east and west, throughout Germany. Unlike the Autobahn, however, there was only one driver for hundreds of people. Max’s father often brought his laptop on trips between Stuttgart and Munich, using his free time to do his work for Porsche.

This weekend, however, Herr Muller left his work at home. It was a quiet and smooth ride. Like his son, Herr Muller closed his eyes and took a nap, waking just as the train came to a stop in Munich.
Max awakened just as the train stopped at the Munich terminal. Max and his father quickly unloaded their packs and got off the train.

They walked through the terminal to the outside of the station. Taxicbas lined the entrance. Grand-papa and Grand-mama waited at the vistor’s side of the parking ramp.

“Max! Come here and let me hug you tight!”” greeted Grand-mama Muller. She wrapped her arms around Max and squeezed. To Max, she always smelled like coffee and old lady’s perfume.

“You’ve grown up so much. You’re becoming a young man.”

“Thank you, Grand-mama.”

Max and his father loaded their bags into Grand-Papa’s wagon and got in the back seat. This time, though, his legs had plenty of room.

Max looked out his window as they drove through the streets of Munich.

“Oh,” groaned Max, “I wanted to skate this weekend.”

“Just because there’s no snow doesn’t mean there isn’t ice. We’ll go to Karlsplatz.”

Max sat back in his seat. Although there was no snow, there was still the ice skating rink at Karlsplatz – and that would be just as fine as skating on any frozen pond.