Slupetzky sat at his old typewriter, gazing out of his skylight at the pre-Christmas evening sky. At noon he had been near the main train station for an appointment. As he stepped off the subway to the pedestrian zone, he saw an old man who had fallen onto the street. He was lying on his back and was unable to get up.
Slupetzky quickly went over to him and bent down to help the old man up. At the same time, another young man had arrived, and so they both supported the old man from the sides. It quickly became clear that the old man was a drunken homeless. His clothes were filthy from head to toe, his breath smelled of wine, and his eyes were glazed. He was crying.
“My wife… yesterday… died …,” he stammered. The second man seemed to be in a hurry and quickly said goodbye. Slupetzky was left alone with the old man. He noticed how difficult it was to keep the old man on his feet. “My wife… yesterday… died …,” the old man stammered again, “Liberec…” Slupetzky tried to make sense of it. The old man was obviously Czech, from Liberec, and had lost his wife. “I… Slupetzky,” he said, pointing to himself. “Igor,” the old man said, still in tears.
“Igor, main train station, Liberec,” Slupetzky replied. “Yes, Liberec,” the old man stammered. Slupetzky pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed his colleague’s number: “I have an emergency here; I’ll be half an hour late.” After hanging up, he turned to the old man: “Come on, Igor, let’s go to the main train station. I’ll buy you a ticket to Liberec there.”
The walk to the main train station usually took just under ten minutes. Now they needed well over half an hour to cover this short distance. Slupetzky took Igor’s arm under his and walked to his left. Igor staggered, each step a struggle, and twice he nearly fell into the street. Once, a young woman helped Igor to his feet; the second time, Slupetzky had to manage it with difficulty on his own. Along the way, they spoke in Czech, with Slupetzky repeatedly contributing his four basic phrases: “Good day, please, thank you, my God!” “My God!” Igor replied, smiling, still in tears. “You’re good!” he added, looking at Slupetzky affectionately.
Arriving at the main train station, he carried Igor to the waiting area on the ground floor. There, Slupetzky found two free seats and laboriously helped Igor onto the first one. On the way, he had called the homeless aides and learned that they wouldn’t start their work until the evening. So Slupetzky looked around for security personnel. “Igor, please wait here!” Slupetzky said, indicating that he was going to speak to the security briefly. Igor nodded, relieved.
The employee in charge was exceptionally friendly. He explained to Slupetzky that Igor could remain in the waiting area if he kept quiet. However, he pointed out that the conductor of the train to Liberec might refuse Igor passage due to his condition. Slupetzky told, he would pick Igor up again in two hours, after his appointment, and gave the employee his phone number in case of emergency. As Slupetzky explained the situation to Igor, the latter’s face lit up. Slupetzky pointed to his watch, held up three fingers, and said, “I’ll be back at three!” As they said goodbye, Igor hugged him warmly and kissed him on the forehead. Then, considerably late, Slupetzky set off for his meeting.
When he returned to the main train station after the appointment, Igor was not there anymore. Slupetzky called the security guard to inquire. The guard explained that Igor was already gone at 2:00 and he knew nothing more about him. Now Slupetzky stood there, in the middle of the main train station, in the middle of the waiting area, all alone, and felt a bar of chocolate in his jacket. Igor had slipped it into his pocket when they said goodbye. It was his present, the first for Christmas this year.
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Vienna Calling 