Rollin’ with my Landlord
The first Tuesday of my internship, I rode public transport home from my internship in Frankfurt to my flat in Scöneck-Kilianstädten, with my internship director—who lives two stops away from my own. Because I had not traveled from the train station to my flat yet, I was to be “picked up” by my landlord—who would walk me home.
Brother Pfeiffer is a short elderly gentleman, who is a cab driver by profession and claims to only know “taxi English.” In other words, he understands how to take people places they want to go. Considering I needed to go somewhere, he was the perfect person to guide me back to my apartment.
As the train approached the station, Brother Pfeiffer was leaning against a light pole, waving eagerly as he saw Ralf and I through the train windows. Once the train had come to a full stop and I had said goodbye to Ralf, I walked towards my guide and followed him down the train steps.
I quickly recognized that the journey home would take a good amount of time, by the pace of Brother Pfeiffer’s steps while exiting the platform. Not that it mattered, I had nowhere to be and an empty flat without the internet to keep me company. Once at the bottom of the stairs Brother Pfeiffer began to approach a cherry-red electric wheelchair.
Suddenly, I was the one concerned about making our journey longer than necessary.
As we began our stroll uphill through the narrow streets of Germany, Brother Pfeiffer would often have to direct his wheelchair into the road because of the small width of the cobblestone sidewalks. Most of the time, he was riding in the opposite direction of oncoming traffic.
My guide started slow, giving me a chance to stretch my legs after the commute home. The further we traveled the quicker he steered. After, reaching a speed he seemed pleased with, he waved his hand up and down in a vertical motion. The languageless way of asking if I was comfortable walking at that speed. I nodded enthusiastically and gave him a thumbs up, as we continued onward.
While walking, I noticed a peach colored stucco home that had a flock of flamingos imprinted on the side--a strange choice for a German home. I laughed, thinking that I probably looked like a flamingo next to Brother Pfeiffer as my long legs glided to keep up with the tiny churning wheels of his chair.
After meticulous maneuvering through the winding neighborhood roads, we approached a street where my guide stopped. He then grabbed my arm and pointed to the street. “Street sign there,” he said, pointing to the sign on a building across the street. I nodded and pointed back to confirm that I understood that this was the road I lived on, feeling like a child being taught what to do if I ever got lost.
The last little bit if the journey included a steep uphill stretch; however, South of Campus steps at Brigham Young University has adequately prepared me for the incline. The hill was no sweat, even for a very out-of-shape me.
Eventually, we reached the gate to our dwellings and I bid my companion farewell as I entered my toasty flat. Hopefully,. I will be able to find my way tomorrow before the train arrives.