I'll tell you about our full-day train trip from Prague to Munich, 2015. It was something like seven or nine hours.
First of all, the main train station in Prague is pretty small, very sensibly laid out, just a big rectangle hall with walkways all along one long side out to the platforms. Easy.
While we were waiting, we noticed this man, no uniform or anything, walking up and talking to each person (or group) in the terminal. I thought he was either with the train company and something was wrong, or that he was pan-handling.
When he finally got to us, he said hello in English (everybody we spoke with in Prague spoke English) and asked where we were going.
"Um...Munich, on the 08:48 service."
"Wonderful. You will find your train waiting for you on platform 6, just through that walkway, and you will have no trouble. Are you leaving or coming back?"
"We'll be going back home to the US after Munich."
"Ah, well then, thank you for visiting us! I trust you had a good time?!"
We assured him we did and he moved on to the next group. Now, I ask you, just how nice is that?!
We had first class tickets on the train, mainly for table service, since we were going to be on the train for so long. That's when disappointment set in.
First, I watch too much Victorian-era TV and movies, and I wanted a train car like Sherlock Holmes would have traveled in - lots of wood paneling and leather seats and four people in a cabin, and a little door I could slam shut, and I didn't get that. It was just a boring old plastic table and hard fabric-covered seats. It didn't even have a door I could close.
Then, there was one person working the food service and she was in the worst mood ever. Rude as could be. Complained when we tried to pay with a card, she wanted cash, then complained about having to make change, and we didn't pay with a big bill or anything, then slopped our teas down, threw our pastries like frisbees across the table, no plates, still wrapped up.
Went to use the restroom (and it was a sit-down visit), which I don't do unless I positively have to while out and about, and the toilet chamber was tiny, like smaller than on an airplane, and every time we hit any kind of slight bump, the door flew open the little window dropped down. Keep in mind, this was December, and it was freezing cold, and the restroom was on the backside of the car, between the cars, and it was so small that when the door would pop open, it felt like you really were just sitting right on the little platform between the cars.
So that put an end to my plops.
Finally, after several hours, we got into Munich. Unfortunately, the train jerked suddenly just as I was reaching for our bags, and did a horrible turn to my back. I was virtually immobile.
Thankfully, we were staying just two stops from the main train station, and the hotel is built right on top of our stop, so there's a little elevator for guests, if you know where to look. That made getting to the room easier.
Here's how bad it was. This is me in Prague, a day or two before leaving (pardon the filter, this was my work profile for a while, and they hate filters, so the rebel in me used a filter):
This is me after getting to the room that first night in Munich:
Bit of a difference, yeah? I've got some entry-level PTSD going on there.