neko's thinkbox

As the title says. Omake… Rant. Rantomake, you might say.

Navigation Day 4: Monday, June 13th

Well… There isn’t really much to say of interest of this day, except that I departed from Venice with a deep feeling of regret: not preparing myself well enough for the trip (gathering info, planning, etc), not staying longer… And also, had I gone one week later, I would even have witnessed the Redentore.

The next couple of pictures and the video were desperately taken on my very last Vaporetto ride from the Lido straight to P.le Roma (short for Piazzale Roma). No matter how many pictures I took, I couldn’t stop time at that very moment.

My last video… My batteries didn’t recharge properly, and the camera threatened to turn itself off soon… so it was fairly short.

I kept humming several ARIA tunes on that ride, out of sheer nostalgia. It felt like a dream, that was just about to end. I’d have been happy to leave Venice with that feeling of bliss. But it should not be like that.

But, the reason why is not that important. It involves random blabbering, personal angst, and will waste your precious time. If you’re not into tl;dr drama, I’ll spare you the details.

Thank you for reading this post. You may stop reading now. :) Arrivederci, grazie mille!

To the others… brace for impact. Tl;dr rant mode ON.

So… here goes. It’s been two months since then, but I still remember it very clearly since it left me frustrated for an entire week. -_-

It was approximately 9 AM when I arrived at the P.le Roma, over one hour before the scheduled departure of the bus to Treviso airport. I did leave my hotel early to prevent getting late with any kind of delay that might occur underway, especially on the waterborne routes. So I was standing there, waiting patiently. I am fairly used to waiting, but that time felt like an eternity. Because I didn’t want to leave, of course! But I had to. In my luggage was my precious Hisui towel, my three ARIA artbooks and what-not, and all the other expensive stuff (ie. cheap clothes and shoes).

Around 10 AM, more people arrived, the bus stop got rather crowded. I was still standing there, with my Grado headphones trying to divert my nostalgia, gazing at the buses and cars. In Venice itself, I saw no cars and buses at all, so it was quite an eerie feeling to see those things again so soon… Perhaps even a comforting feeling of returning to your everyday routine, who knows.

The first bus arrived around 10:10 AM, and people already started pushing each other in order to be the first ones to place their luggage inside. However, it took ten minutes before the driver decided to face the crowd and open the luggage compartments. So, I let the panicking idiots place their luggage first. I didn’t want to be pushed around and have my good mood ruined already; and like that, I could also be one of the first to take it out after arrival at the airport. I entered the bus and got myself a window seat in the middle, just above the open luggage compartments. You still follow? Good.

At around 10:25, another bus arrived, which looked identical to the bus I was in. There were indeed two buses scheduled to depart at 10:40 AM: one to Treviso airport, and another to HELL (seriously, I don’t remember now). Since I asked the driver before entering, I knew where this bus was heading beforehand. But some ignorants did not. And once they noticed the other bus, they started panicking again.

It was 10:35 already. My bus was full, and the driver had already closed the luggage compartments. The ignorants rushed over to the driver, asking in some kind of broken English-Italian-Esperanto-whateverish if this was the right bus to go to hell. But no, it was the other bus. So…. Half a dozen fools return inside to frantically pack their things together, yelling random expletives and stuff, and rush outside; they open the luggage compartment, take out a couple of bags and suitcases to retrieve their own… and ran over to the other bus. Just like that, without putting anything in place.

So, a couple of bags were scattered around at the bus stop, the compartment still open, and noone seemed to care. Not even the bus driver. Well, he was certainly pissed that they didn’t close the compartment because he had to get his lazy arse up from his seat. But then, as he closed it, I noticed: there were still a few bags lying outside. He must have thought they did not belong to our bus, which I believed as well, but then…. I couldn’t believe my eyes. WHAT THE HELL IS MY BAG DOING OUTSIDE OF THE BUS????

I stood up, told my sitting neighbor to let me get out of the bus before it was too late. I rushed over to the driver, yelled at him “DON’T YOU SEE THERE ARE STILL SOME BAGS OUT THERE??” and he just went “Relax! Relax. What’s the problem?” He obviously did not understand me. I took my bag and almost shoved it in his face. “THIS IS MINE!!!” I said, bristling with anger. “Hey hey, calma, calma! Relax! No problem! No problem!” he kept repeating in a condescending demeanor. And then I realized how stupid and pointless this situation was.
It is no use trying to call upon someone’s common sense when they don’t even have one, especially when they don’t even understand your language. So I just open the compartment, stuff my bag in it, and slam it shut. The bus driver still did not understand the situation, kept muttering “Mamma mia! No problem, relax! Okay! No angry! Dio mio!”, but I just ignored him and returned to my seat, appalled as can be. One minute later, the bus drove off, with still two pieces of luggage lying there at the bus stop.

That’s, my friends, is how I really left Venice.

Usually, I am able to keep my cool pretty effectively, and play it down rationally. However, at that moment, I just couldn’t help it anymore. My good (emotional) mood was instantly overturned because of a stupid chain reaction of stupid events triggered by stupid people. Especially that bus driver, he was so nonchalantly stupid, it was as if he carried absolutely no responsibility for the luggage at all. He didn’t care at all, period.

I have to admit, I was slightly panicking as well because of the material and the emotional value of the contents. I can’t even imagine what would have happened if my bag had been left behind there, like the two others… What if, what if!! I swear I’d have killed the bus driver. And missed my plane too. Heck, that dream was so short of becoming a nightmare.

In retrospective, I guess I overreacted all right. But even so, back then, nobody paid great attention to it… as if they all had been through the same thing once or twice in their life. I started assuming that the uproar I caused would have drawn the passengers’ attention to the remaining bags lying out there. I figured, perhaps someone would show any concern about it, try to rush outside to replace their bag inside of the compartment, etc. No.
I agree, I could as well have placed the bags inside myself. But since noone seemed bothered about that event except my sitting neighbor, I took it for granted – those bags don’t belong to anyone this bus – and kept boiling in my corner. All the way until the airport, I kept thinking about the luggage that was left behind, and about what if mine had still been there…. Hisuuuuuiii T____T

Well, once I arrived at the Treviso airport, I took my bag and disappeared inside. What was that song called again…? Oh… I Don’t Like Mondays.

See, it wasn’t all that important. :)