I see two women struggling with their baggage along the plattform trying to locate the carriage they must sit in. It's cold in Chamartín train station tonight. The younger one has a small backpack but is helping the other with an uncomfortable looking big bag. The older one is very elegantly dressed and looks at the tickets with a puzzled expression on her face, or is it just that she needs her glasses and is trying to make out the little numbers? I think they must be mother and daughter, because they have the same eyes, although the expression on their faces is very different: the mother appears poised and calm, the daughter simply bored. I decide to help them with their big bag and get some hearty thank-yous from both. The mother asks me to check their tickets for the whole itinerary and I see they are going to Ireland by train.

- Wow, it's a long trip!- I venture- You must like trains very much.

- Oh, yes, we do, don't we, dear? Do you think we'll arrive early in the morning in Paris?

- Yes, madam. This train is usually on time. The trip is very pleasant, and they tell me dinner is excellent.

- That's fantastic! Thank you, young man.

- I will be at your service the whole trip if you need me.

I leave them unpacking their bags and close the door. The daughter hasn't talked at all, and she has barely looked at me. Maybe she's sad because of something, it's a pity because she is really pretty. Maybe she's just intimidated by her mother.

I hate being called "young man".

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