And the Jews were gone. That’s what I read when I glanced over The Husband’s shoulder to see what could make his thumbs type so frantically on the blackberry as he sat on the Moroccan bed in our cush hotel in Venice. I just looked at him. He didn’t notice.
“And the Jews were gone…” I said as the thumbs continued to click away. There was no response. He didn’t even pick up his head. “I swear to god, if I hear you say that one more time I’m going to push you into the canal!” The one right outside our bedroom window.
He kind of smiled. Not at me. At what he was typing.
The Jews were two strangers on the bus we took to Palazzo Roma from the Treviso airport, an airport we had no idea we were flying into (We thought we were going to land at Marco Polo. Another long story). The Husband had spotted the couple as soon as they boarded the bus. Dressed head to toe in black, they were kind of hard to miss. And because the Husband had just read in Frommer’s Italy 2008 that a good way to save money on an expensive water taxi is to try to find people going to the same place, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I bet they’re going where we’re going.”
Even though I had thought the exact same thing the moment I spotted them sitting in the front row, I shushed him. Then I closed my eyes and went back to sleep. It had been a long day (and night) and the bus ride from the Treviso Airport to The Palazzo Roma was an hour long.
“Who?” I asked, even though I already knew who. I rolled my eyes and gathered my things.
The Husband approached them as the driver handed over their bags. “Excuse me, you going to the ghetto?”
“What?” they asked, looking confused.
Oh god, I remember thinking.
“Cannaregio. Are you going to Cannaregio?”
“Yes Yes!” they exclaimed in unison.
And together we walked towards the water to find a water taxi to take us to Cannaregio. Only there was just one problem. We didn’t have enough Euro. The only ATM at the airport was conveniently broken and The Husband refused to pay a $16 fee to get $20. I was on the search for an ATM machine.
“Where do you think I’m going? We need money! We can’t go anywhere without money!”
“But we’re going to lose them!”
We did, eventually, find an ATM, but, as my husband predicted, we lost them. He was livid. “There’s no way in hell I’m paying $100 for a water taxi to take us two city blocks!”
And he meant it.
Hotel Ai Mori D’Oriente (located in Cannaregio.)
Now for The Husband’s email that triggered this post:
We are here but a little worse off than we expected. Although still in love Heather and I realize that we can not be partners in a travel agency. First we arrived Stansted and the airline gave us a room at a nearby hotel for a shower and a little rest because we had a long wait between flights. It was very nice of them but I think they knew the rest of our journey was going to be hell. After a shower Heather and. I went to the security checkpoint where she somehow tested positive for explosives! That’s right EXPLOSIVES! Needless to say we were given special treatment and in the process I somehow lost ALL of our travel documents except our passports (thank God). I didn’t notice until we were already inflight on our second airline that made southwest look like Concorde. Heather told me not to panic because we could just recopy our tickets at the airport which seemed feasible until we LANDED AT THE WRONG AIRPORT!By this time you can just imagine what it was like being with me. Couldn’t get any worse you say? Fuck yes it could because we didn’t have Euros and the only ATM in what was the NY version of Islip was broken. I had to pay 50US for 20Euros and then we jumped on a bus that took us through Trevisi and past Marco Polo airport which was the one we were supposed land at. We were dropped off in some parking lot and figuring we were going to the Jewish Ghetto I looked for the one religious couple I saw out of thousands of people. Sure enough they were going there but they too were lost. I turn around and Heather is walking away like she knows where the hell she is. The last thing I needed was to lose her.I got her and the Jews were gone. Back to being the wandering Jew of Italy. I walked over to a water taxi and the guy wanted 90US to take us to hotel which was less than a mile away. I refused to be ripped for one more cent and I asked a fireman to show us the way. Heather and I walked what seemed like an eternity over bridges and pitted streets until we saw Hebrew writing and Rabbis speaking like Don freakin Corleone. We finally reached the hotel dropped our bags and started eating. During dinner Heather actually fell asleep at the table. We went to bed a 9 and got up at 9. Heather woke up with trench foot and is itchy. All in all we are about 1000US down in reticketing but we are laughing. Heather has taken about 1000 pictures and I haven’t pushed her trench foot ass into a canal yet.
Heather Poole 
Ah, the joys of love and marriage and traveling together… DoctorDude and I did the same thing in Paris. We took a cheap shuttle bus from CDG to L’Opera, and from there the apartment looked really close on the map. heh, not so close when your arm is getting shaken off by dragging the rollaboard over all the cobblestones. Every couple hundred yards DD would say, “We COULD take a taxi, you know.”
Ah, the joys of love and marriage and traveling together… DoctorDude and I did the same thing in Paris. We took a cheap shuttle bus from CDG to L’Opera, and from there the apartment looked really close on the map. heh, not so close when your arm is getting shaken off by dragging the rollaboard over all the cobblestones. Every couple hundred yards DD would say, “We COULD take a taxi, you know.”
BIGGIE-Z – sounds like we should switch spouses. 🙂
yes, but are you going to keep The Kid? Cuz DoctorDude doesn’t really deal well with kids.
Heather-just found your blog yesterday and am enjoying it. Your husbands email was hilarious. He needs a blog.
Keep up the good work.
Brother of a 40 year United FA.