You don't plan for things to go wrong; they just do. I woke up on March 19th and felt great: the sun was shining, one of only six or seven such days in the past five weeks; my flight back to Toronto was booked four days earlier, and I had a plan.
The cheapest flight I could get was one leaving at 0700 on the 20th with connections in Paris and Minneapolis. I could catch a bus from Dubrovnik to travel over-night, then catch another bus from Zagreb to the Zagreb airport. According to my plan, the 2100 bus took nine hours to arrive in Zagreb - too late - so I could take the 1800 bus and arrive at 0300 with time to spare. So I thought.
I spent the day of departure leisurely packing and closing up the boat, had a coffee with a few friends (finally enjoying the rare burst of sunshine), and I caught the bus to the station in Dubrovnik with a smile on my face, arriving at 1600.
Feeling somewhat chatty after being cooped-up like a mushroom in the dark, damp boat for the past month, I informed the ticket lady that I would like to purchase a ticket for the 1800 bus in order to make my 0700 flight the next morning. The first clouds of the day broke over her brow as she informed me that the bus wouldn't arrive until 0530 and that there would always be a possibility it could be late since it takes the old coast road, parts of which are being repaired. "But the scenery would be beautiful if you were traveling by day!", she cheerfully added.
The flight ticket was as immutable as the Rock of Gibraltar; if I miss my flight, I lose my money, which is the risk with discount air travel. I had two hours to find an alternate way to get to Zagreb before I had to take the bus gamble. I scrambled to find a wifi connection to try to book a train, plane or automobile (Hey! That's no pillow.) and after an hour my prepaid cell time ran out, so then I had to purchase more time before I could continue. After two hours of frantic thumb typing in my 2.5" screen and calling car rental agencies, I had to give up. It was the bus or nothing.
We set off, and I silently fretted about every delay as we proceeded, silently urging the driver to pass slow vehicles and cursing the delays in the construction zones, the traffic in the towns and the passengers getting on and off the bus. There was no way I was getting any sleep. However, after six hours traveling, we had negotiated construction zones, were north of Split, and were on schedule. I could sense the beautiful scenery outside in the darkness and my frown was beginning to turn upside down. Just then at 0002 a loud bang put back the frown: we had blown a tire and my $1,000! I grimly watched the driver and the co-driver hustle out, change into some coveralls and change the tire. It only took twenty five minutes, and I know because I watched every second tick off on the overhead clock. But the crew was confident that they could make up the time and arrive on schedule at 0530. To make sure that I didn't miss my flight, they transferred me onto another bus at their scheduled rest stop that was scheduled to arrive at 0500.
And so it did. I made my flight and eighteen hours later I was in Toronto. By the time I got to Terri and Drew's I had been awake for forty eight hours. Not exactly how I planned it all, but it worked out anyway.
Branko
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