I could've been a stunt-double

This is where my train should have been It’s like I’m in a movie. A woman waits on the platform and wipes away a single tear from her face. Her hand moves in slow motion and I see it from a far. My own breaths are labored and rushed as I struggle to run faster than the slowly moving train. This can’t possibly be happening, I think to myself as the vertebrae in my back bend and strain against the weight of my heavy backpack. “Wait!” I cry, the sodden stench of train exhaust puffing in my face. “Stop the train!” I cry louder.
My fingertips can practically feel the corrugated metal of the side of the Trenitalia train that was supposed to bring me and my traveling partner to Cinque Terre Italy. We had gotten to the train station, only to find a line snaking through and ending much farther than we had anticipated. Our tickets were finally time stamped and handed to us at 8:59. The train was leaving at 9:05.
Train stations are difficult to navigate anyway but the whirring of the changing numbers and times, the people that lull around and the unhelpful conductors create an automatic atmosphere of panic. We ran around for three minutes, each second ticking past me, and landing with a heavy thud in the pit of my stomach. After realizing the train that we were trying to board was bound for Venice, it was with an acute horror that I have never before experienced that our train was three platforms away and slowly creeping out of the echo-y dome of the Milan train station.
In between fast forwarding and slow motion is where I am right now. My hands grip the metal handle and fling open the door of the train. My traveling partner shouts my name, but I know that I can make this! I have the surreal experience of imagining myself hoisting myself onto the train before a train worker shouts no in my face. My panic swells and rises and I shout futile “help us!” as the train picks up speed and disappears.
I can’t face my friend. I can’t decide if I should cry or laugh. I turn around and she looks pale and ashen. “You have got to be kidding me!” we both say at the same time. At once, a tiny jingle of laughter escapes from my mouth, and we walk away, my dreams of an Indiana Jones style train jump dashed much like the hopes of us getting to Cinque Terre before noon. I suppose it wouldn't have been interesting to actually have things go as planned...