Volker cursed the day when he had decided to change his life completely. That was the worst idea he had ever had! After all, his time as Paolo, the Italian waiter, hadn't been that bad…

It all began when his customers started getting letters from Ireland and pestered him with stories about the dignified life of Anglo-Saxon aristocracy. Suddenly, Volker could see himself as the ageing butler in "Dinner for One", right hand of a widowed mistress with a not too small fortune. So he had changed his name from Paolo to Paul, and his sun tan, golden necklace and Italian accent for aristocratic paleness, a typically British bow tie and would-be Oxford English. Enthusiastically, he had given up his job at the Italian restaurant and stared writing applications. But there didn't seem to be that many rich British widows in need of new butlers. In fact, the only international employer willing to take him on was the Thalys catering team, "Railgourmet".

Volker looked into one of the mirrors that served the honourable function of making the buffet car look a bit more spacious. This was his first day on the Thalys, and there had already been some major catastrophes. As he wasn't used to a moving working environment, he had sustained several bruises. Then he thought he had seen Katharina, a former friend of his. Turning to get a better look, he had spilled a drink over a passenger. And on top of it, now a tall blond man was causing a major row, pestering female customers with some kind of letter.

This was too much! No more letters! Volker mumbled something about the loo and rushed out of the buffet car, nearly bumping into a man coming his way. Entering the next carriage, his eyes caught a glimpse of an elderly man sitting towards the end of the open plan carriage. Was this a bad dream? As the old man started to choke on his sandwich, Volker had the strong feeling of déjà vu. This couldn't possibly be one of his former customers, or could he?

Volker was just recovering from the shock when he heard a giggle behind him.

"You couldn't possibly know that waiter, Helen! We've never travelled on this train before."

But Volker knew the female voice very well. The two sisters! This was a nightmare, his former customers following him! He rushed through the carriage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw two more vaguely familiar shapes sneaking around the luggage area. They were too unobtrusive not to be noticed. He didn't know the woman, but the guy was the one who always spent his winters in Italy.

Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He had to get out of this train. He was reliving that horrible evening all over again - all those people with their Irish letters! Only two parties were missing: That unfortunate teacher with his feminist colleague and Alexandra, the girl supporting his Italian waiter act. Suddenly, the buffet car seemed to be the only safe place on the train. He turned and entered the car the moment a tall blonde shrieked on the top of her voice:

"You sad little pervert!"

...

What Volker couldn't know was that at that very moment, Alexandra and the teacher were making their way towards the buffet car, talking about the strange coincidence that they were both going to Achill Island. Looking out for a spare table, they saw someone collapsing behind the counter.

"Maybe we shouldn't have lunch in here, after all", Andreas, the teacher, said.