Friday, 26 June 2009

Well, Italy...

...although it possibly may happen anywhere. I hear that people don't go on strikes in Finland and that trains are always on time and at the right place in Japan but those may be legends.
At midday, I wanted to take a bus to Santa Maria Novella to leave my suitcase there, the buses stop across the street, so that I wouldn't have to drag all my bags at once. After half an hour of waiting for the buses which didn't go, some compassionate fellow citizen told us who waited there that there's a bus strike. I brought the suitcase back home and went to take books back to the library and for a lunch with Laura. (The stuffed rabbit at Lo Skipper was excellent.)
I thought about not being caught by a rainstorm out in the wild and walking back barefoot several times this spring, so... exactly this happened today. I was soaked wet, with half-dissolved shoes and adequately pissed.
I finished my packing, went to the Campo di Marte station, the train was announced to be some 15 minutes late. I had a reserve for unscheduled delays and disasters so I was okay, it was still doable.
Alas, I had no reserve for unplanned unscheduled delays. The train for SMN landed not at the first platform but at the second and I wasn't able to catch it with some 50 kilos of luggage. I went to try and catch a taxi. Meantime, some logistic woman from Student Agency called me where the hell I am. In a taxi to Piazza Adua, will be there in a while. She started explaining that the bus is due in a few minutes, when I migt arrive and that she'll call the driver whether they could wait for me. So far so good, excellent service, I thought to myself until the logistic gal called back, saying that they totally aren't able to wait for me for a single minute and that I might take a taxi to catch the bus in Venice, for example. I held back and didn't tell the gal to go kill herself for such ideas - I don't have an oil well at the backyard to go to Venice by taxi, that's it. I guess that neither the logistic gal has.
The bus was due at 1815, I was there 1818.
Three minutes, the hell.
We cursed the ATAF, Italian Railways, bus drivers and just the whole world in unison with the taxi driver, he dropped me off at the train station and I went to buy the ticket for midnight express to Vienna, quietly hoping that there might be a sleeper place available.
The queue was long and slow so meantime I tried to call parents, I needed to whine and to let them know that there'll be no need to pick me at 0730 in the morning. Dad wouldn't pick the phone but mom was there. I summed up the situation and she said You're so chaotic. As always. You should've gone earlier. She's unteachable. When I need to whine, I need to whine and be told that they are all arseholes, whoever I'm whining about. I even explicitly told her to let me whine, promise me a cake and I'd be fine. Nope, she needed to say that so she got a full dose of pointy sarcasm. Well, then she promised cakes. And no, they had only seats for the Vienna night train. So, I dragged my possessions to the waiting room and I'm waiting. I'm high on adrenaline so I'm afraid that the next smartass who will give me useful advice or something might get a bleeding wound or two.
I settled at the waiting room - there's just about time for one lappy battery and one sandwich... and meantime, I invented a revenge.
Student Agency offers free coffee on their buses. A cup of vending machine coffee worth 35 cents. My unused ticket was for 63 euros.... so, let's drink all their coffee. Serves them right because giving false hope is just too evil.

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