When I was 22 and backpacking with a Eurail pass in the mid 1980s, I got on the wrong train from Italy. I was supposed to end up in Nice, but somewhere before the French border , we turned NORTH! There were no more stops until we got to where ever our destination was. After about 2 more hours, we arrived somewhere in a valley between the major and minor alpine mountains in Italy.
The train would be going back to my starting point in a couple of hours. I had a heavy back pack and NO money (as I'd been pick pocketed by some American girls the night before). So, with my backpack, I wandered around the uninteresting modern village until my train left again.
After the trip all the way back, I got on the CORRECT train and headed toward Nice. By this time, I'd been travelling for a long time and hadn't been able to afford the shower the previous night. So I was not at my best.
As I sat, grumpy, just waiting to finally get to Nice, I remarked at some incredibly cute Italian guys seated near me. They kept laughing at me and pointing at me. This did NOT help my grumpiness!
Suddenly, the guys jumped up at and ran over to me, trying to see the sign at the small train station we'd just stopped at. They looked at me and asked in their broken English, "I this such and such town?" I looked up at them and smiled, "yes," thinking it was.
They ran off with all their duffle bags and soccer balls, barely getting off in time.
And as we pulled out of the station, I looked at the train station sign and saw, much to my satisfaction, it actually was NOT the town they were looking for. I thought, "Ya, Kharma's a bitch, isn't it!"