Vienna isn’t far. Honest. It’s only up the road. I’m pretty sure most of the thousands of vehicles that are passing me by are going in that direction. I’m in a pretty dodgy spot though, with cars moving at speed and no time to make judgments. I try to remain optimistic and play my entertaining hitching game. With the mask of a smile, I mouth obscenities to every driver that speeds by. It helps to pass the time. Especially effective against the buffoons, (always young tabloid newspaper reading degenerates), who delight in grinning , waving, or showing me the finger. These guys are hilarious. I wish I could spend time in their company. I weep for their wives, girlfriends and children. Given the sheer volume of traffic after a couple of hours I knock it on the head and return to the hostel. That was yesterday.
So back out early this morning to try another spot. Only it isn’t there. The snow is falling heavy and I’m loaded with my gear marching up the grass verge of a dual carriageway. I’m following the directions mentioned on hitchwiki to the letter, but after tramping for half an hour the only petrol station I see is on the other side of the road. Incompetent morons! I spied a hotel some 300 metres back, so I turn and shuffle in that general direction. With a bit of luck they’ll have a receptionist that speaks English, a decent wifi connection, and a clean toilet to deposit the alcohol poo.
It turns out that the clueless individual who penned these directions just didn’t do a decent enough job. When you say things like “walk for fifteen minutes till you see a hole in the fence” you know it’s going to be pretty vague. In reality the walk was much further, passed a lake, under a flyover, through a snowy field and THERE was the goddamn hole in the fence to a welcome petrol station forecourt. I made a mental note to lambaste them at a later date.
I love hitching from these stops. You’ve got all the truckers parked up and pulling away round the clock, plus loads of punters filing in to pick up fuel and snacks. Plenty of space to pull in, slow enough for decent eye contact. This one has a great coffee shop and sarnie bar, and it’s the sort of place that’ll be open all night if worse comes to worst. I manage an hour of hitching before I get hungry and return to have a munch.
Stamping my feet against the cold, I’m gazing at a graceful bird of prey not too far from me in a white field and zoning out. I can’t feel my face, and I need to keep my scarf up which makes me look like a ninja. A cold, rough, smelly ninja. This doesn’t bode well for potential lifts, as I look even dodgier than usual. Still after just short of the two-hour mark I make contact, and an off duty taxi driver says he can take me some place I’ve never heard of, which apparently is close to Wien. I’ve had a few bad experiences of getting dropped in impossible hitching spots, but at the moment it’s a better option than hanging around in the freezing cold, so I jump into the warm cab.
Very little is said, because we can’t, but I’m pleased to note good distance being covered. I’m always super alert when I climb into someones vehicle, a peripheral eye on the driver, another on the road, signs and markings. It pleases me greatly when my destination signs are being adhered to, I reach for the pepper spray when they are not. All is well on this occasion, and to my surprise I find myself dropped at the airport. So that’s what he was trying to say! Plenty of folk going into the city from here, so it should be no problem.
I’m getting a little worried at the large amount of beautiful black BMW’s and Mercs. Businessmen flood in to pick up Japanese clients. Nobody wants a scruffy hitcher on their leather. This is the land that forgot women. I don’t spot a single one as I wait for crap looking cars with hairy drivers. Yet my salvation comes in the form of another off duty cabbie driving a Mercedes E class. I jump in the back seat and ride to the centre of Vienna in style.
70K up the road? You’re havin’ a laff…
Vienna isn’t far. Honest. It’s only up the road. I’m pretty sure most of the thousands of vehicles that are passing me by are going in that direction. I’m in a pretty dodgy spot though, with cars moving at speed and no time to make judgments. I try to remain optimistic and play my entertaining hitching game. With the mask of a smile, I mouth obscenities to every driver that speeds by. It helps to pass the time. Especially effective against the buffoons, (always young tabloid newspaper reading degenerates), who delight in grinning , waving, or showing me the finger. These guys are hilarious. I wish I could spend time in their company. I weep for their wives, girlfriends and children. Given the sheer volume of traffic after a couple of hours I knock it on the head and return to the hostel. That was yesterday.
So back out early this morning to try another spot. Only it isn’t there. The snow is falling heavy and I’m loaded with my gear marching up the grass verge of a dual carriageway. I’m following the directions mentioned on hitchwiki to the letter, but after tramping for half an hour the only petrol station I see is on the other side of the road. Incompetent morons! I spied a hotel some 300 metres back, so I turn and shuffle in that general direction. With a bit of luck they’ll have a receptionist that speaks English, a decent wifi connection, and a clean toilet to deposit the alcohol poo.
It turns out that the clueless individual who penned these directions just didn’t do a decent enough job. When you say things like “walk for fifteen minutes till you see a hole in the fence” you know it’s going to be pretty vague. In reality the walk was much further, passed a lake, under a flyover, through a snowy field and THERE was the goddamn hole in the fence to a welcome petrol station forecourt. I made a mental note to lambaste them at a later date.
I love hitching from these stops. You’ve got all the truckers parked up and pulling away round the clock, plus loads of punters filing in to pick up fuel and snacks. Plenty of space to pull in, slow enough for decent eye contact. This one has a great coffee shop and sarnie bar, and it’s the sort of place that’ll be open all night if worse comes to worst. I manage an hour of hitching before I get hungry and return to have a munch.
Stamping my feet against the cold, I’m gazing at a graceful bird of prey not too far from me in a white field and zoning out. I can’t feel my face, and I need to keep my scarf up which makes me look like a ninja. A cold, rough, smelly ninja. This doesn’t bode well for potential lifts, as I look even dodgier than usual. Still after just short of the two-hour mark I make contact, and an off duty taxi driver says he can take me some place I’ve never heard of, which apparently is close to Wien. I’ve had a few bad experiences of getting dropped in impossible hitching spots, but at the moment it’s a better option than hanging around in the freezing cold, so I jump into the warm cab.
Very little is said, because we can’t, but I’m pleased to note good distance being covered. I’m always super alert when I climb into someones vehicle, a peripheral eye on the driver, another on the road, signs and markings. It pleases me greatly when my destination signs are being adhered to, I reach for the pepper spray when they are not. All is well on this occasion, and to my surprise I find myself dropped at the airport. So that’s what he was trying to say! Plenty of folk going into the city from here, so it should be no problem.
I’m getting a little worried at the large amount of beautiful black BMW’s and Mercs. Businessmen flood in to pick up Japanese clients. Nobody wants a scruffy hitcher on their leather. This is the land that forgot women. I don’t spot a single one as I wait for crap looking cars with hairy drivers. Yet my salvation comes in the form of another off duty cabbie driving a Mercedes E class. I jump in the back seat and ride to the centre of Vienna in style.