Subject:

stories

I stepped off the plane in Venice's airport and I instantly felt "at home." I've been through this airport countless times, the first as a student and I remember sitting on a bench in baggage claim waiting to rejoin Austin as we took separate flights. We fumbled our way through the airport to find the bus counter, for tickets to get to Piazzale Roma via a short $3 bus ride. (To this day, I have yet to take an overpriced taxi or boat ride. If you're a romantic with extra cash to spend, by all means do so. If you're cheap, unromantic or too pragmatic to take a boat, then find yourself the blue ATVO bus. It's what an Italian would do, anyways)

As I arrived this time in Venezia, it seemed remarkably smaller than I remembered it. I found my checked baggage in record time, headed straight to the bus ticket window to see a "Be Back Soon" sign and decided instead to head straight to the bus and pay a few extra euros for a ticket. I was in and out of the airport in less than twenty minutes, and found myself wandering the sidewalk, running only on adrenaline. I paced back and forth until I found the queue for the SITA bus to Padova and settled in to begin my slow Italian commute. The crisp, fall air made me acutely aware of the fact that I was still wearing flip flops from the plane, but before I can dig through my bags for proper shoe, I'm approached by an African man who's Italian was like I'd ever heard before. Was it the lack of sleep? Typically, I love interactions with other non-native speakers in Italian, because we're at the same disadvantage. But his Italian was so strange and I began to wonder was it even Italian, or perhaps Spanish? I smiled and helped him decipher the bus schedule. Quickly joining us was a young Italian couple with luggage plastered with Berlin Marathon stickers and New Balance sneakers. I wondered if they'd spent the weekend running a marathon or were returning home from a short weekend jaunt? A middle-aged woman dressed in her best clothes and designer sunglasses joined us and onto the bus we went when it arrived...ten minutes late. I paused for a moment as the bus driver ran from the bus, probably his only break for the next hour. I began to worry about not having a ticket, but forced myself to get on and not worry about it. Ten agonizing minutes of wondering if I did the right thing as others with their pre-purchased tickets validated them on the bus machine. The driver hops back on about to pull out and I quickly stop him and say "ho bisogno un biglietto" timidly. He looks at me strangely, snaps something at me I can't understand and I even more timidly ask "ma dov'e comprare?" He ignores me and I can't tell if he's leaving or helping me out. He re-emerges with a pack of tickets, a "I don't have time to deal with you, stupid tourist" face and says loudly "ONE TICKET?" I mumble si, hand over my money and try not to be ashamed of my poor attempt at interaction. I settle back in my seat and prepare myself for an un-eventful hour long ride.