I woke up sickly early my last morning in Venice and caught a water-bus to the outskirts of town where roads exist and lead to the outside world. I stayed silent amongst the workers and proper Venetians on the water-bus hoping to pass myself off as one of them. I even followed them on their post-waterbus morning ritual of 3-minute espressos at the counter. Then with my practiced Italian asked where the bus to the airport was, found said bus, double checked with the driver that this bus was indeed headed to the airport, and sat in my chair feeling a sense of accomplishment and self-reliance. For the first time in my travels I had given myself plenty of time to make all the bus/train/flight connections.

Those who have traveled with me before would have been impressed with my progress. Or perhaps they would have been frustrated that I chose THIS opportunity to be organized and on time rather than the occasions when my “fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants-ness” prevented us from being where we were supposed to be. (Sorry again everyone).

Regardless, I was sitting tall on my bus bench saying goodbye to the beautiful city and preparing for the hour bus ride. About 20 minutes later however the bus stopped. At the airport. Instantly I was struck with confusion. I had taken the bus from the airport into Venice after all, and on that occasion, only 5 days prior, it took an hour. Or was I wrong, did it just seem longer? Perhaps this was an express bus or the driver knew a short cut. I did my best to alleviate my fears with these reasonings but ultimately something just didn’t seem right.

Also the airport itself looked different. Then I saw the sign, the ever radiant, modern font sign, proudly declaring the name of the airport I was currently at and NOT the airport name printed on my air-ticket.

Turns out Venice has more than one airport…. Turns out I’m not so good at conversations in Italian….Turns out I’m not so organized…

But the key to remember is I (for the first time in my travel history) had given myself plenty of time so if I could only just get a bus to the other airport I’d still be fine. Problem is that the other airport was in the opposite direction and it’d take me a few connections, one of which only runs every hour. So I thought I’d take a cab and pay through the nose, since I would have to pay just as much to re-book a flight anyway, besides I had a separate connecting flight in Dublin to catch so if  missed this one I’d surely miss the next. However, keen as my plan was, it wasn’t easy to translate, and neither of the two drivers at the small airport would take me. I don’t think they really understood what I was asking since they just kept replying in Italian and pointing to the bus despite how many euro I was waving in their face. So, defeated, I got back on the bus I came on and headed to some random Italian towns to make my connections to get to the other airport.

I ended up being about 3 hours late for my flight. No refund, no connecting flight, more money down the drain. As if that wasn’t bad enough I was informed that the flight I missed was the only flight to Dublin for the next 3 days.

And at this point in the story I feel the need to explain my love/hate relationship with Ryanair. Ryanair has been my friend, it has flown me all over Europe for stupidly low fares. I seriously spent a grand total of $6.00 for a flight from Portugal to England once. That’s $6 bucks for taxes, fees, ticket, EVERYTHING. The most expensive bit of it was the credit card charge of $5 otherwise it would have only been a buck. Point is, when I tell people things like this they say: “How is that possible?”. Well basically it’s only possible by reeling you in. If you don’t play by their strict rules they’ll sock it to you.

“Your carry-on bag is 1 kilo over their excessively low limit is it? That’ll be an extra $20 per kilo then sir.”

“You want to check a bag now do you? $40 please.”

“Didn’t check in online? Another $40.”

“Missed your flight did you? I’ll book you on the next one no problem. Your original flight you got for £10… the cheapest we have now is £135.”

Now, due to my cheap craftiness, I found some loopholes in their systems that I could exploit and keep my fares low, but in instances like this you just have to grit your teeth and pay.

So the skinny:

My day was supposed to be: early rise, coffee, a flight to Dublin, coffee in Dublin airport with a friend, and two hours later fly to Scotland to meet up with T&T, Josh, and his mate. Simple. Easy. All paid for.

My day ended up being: early rise, coffee, 3 hours on Italian public transit, 6 hours in an Italian airport, an blasphemously expensive flight to London, and hour of walking, and a 12 hour night bus to Edinburgh.

I was sleepy but knew sleep wouldn’t come so I took a bunch of night-quill. I woke up giggling at one point. I guess in retrospect it all was kinda funny…