Road 2 Elsewhere, Excerpt #37*: Fortunate, Not Lucky

How my dad helped me parse my privilege, long before I understood what that even meant.

IN LATE OCTOBER, I had a drowsy morning in the Paris Metro. It was interesting to watch people on the way to work—an alien culture for me. We were rolling toward Gare de Lyon, where my travel companion David Copperfield and I caught the train to Switzerland.

I went along for many miles watching the landscape as the Alps rose up around me, but eventually my cabin-mates—an older, affluent couple—demonstrated their knowledge of English, and we had a charming interchange. We decided that a person will be treated exactly as s/he expects to be treated, and our friendship was ensured. We parted like grandson/grandparents, after which I eagerly followed their advice and hopped onto the wrong train.

This turned out to be a blessing, because the people on my (wrong) train were also friendly, and I held up my part in a half-hour conversation in French. (So what if I missed class at the Alliance Française that day?) 

After changing trains in Glacieux and Romont, I finally found the correct train …