Tales from an Unknown Corner

CHAPTER – 55: The Ferry Trip

Next morning, at half past five, we woke up to the sound of the alarm. Rolling away from Dana, I reached for the alarm clock, my fingers stumbling around, before they located it, and turned it off. I rolled back to Dana, spooning behind her, and ran my hand over her side to her hips, then to her belly, and finally up to her breasts, while kissing her back and shoulder, smelling the fragrance of her hair. She came awake and moaned her pleasure at my wandering hand. We lazed in bed for a while, and she turned to face me. We shared a short kiss, with morning breath and all, before she pushed me on my back and nestled to my side. We did a bit of mutual molesting, but kept it low key, which got our blood running. Eventually we were awake enough to get out of the bed. We took turns to attend to our morning ablutions, before we showered together.

I left her in the bathroom, heading for the living room to put the heater on, and then visited the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine. I ran back to the bathroom, shivering from my short excursion in the cold apartment, seeking the warmth of the bathroom. Noticing I had some stubble, I shaved and dabbed on a bit of aftershave. The alcohol burn finally woke me completely.

Back in the bedroom, I dressed with the clothes I had laid out last night: jeans, and a wool shirt. Dana was still in panties and a bra, putting on her make-up in front of her vanity. Before leaving the room, I leaned in to kiss her neck. She reached behind her, and clutched my neck, pulling me for a proper kiss—now that morning breath wasn’t a consideration—and nuzzled my neck, inhaling my aftershave, before she released me.

The apartment was still cold, but warming up. The coffee was ready. I filled a cup and took it to Dana. While sipping my own coffee, I started on breakfast: sausages, scrambled eggs, honey, and buttered toast. As I was filling the plates Dana came in dressed in tight fitting jeans and a wool turtleneck sweater, and we sat down for a hearty breakfast. After the breakfast I got our cups filled with the last of the coffee and started a fresh batch, telling her I would pick up my thermos from the car and fill it for the ferry trip. I never liked the coffee they served on trains, boats, or airplanes, finding them tasteless and weak.

I took our suitcases down to the car, put them in the trunk, and picked up the thermos. It was still dark outside, cloudy, with a cold breeze. It almost looked like it would rain. For a moment, my mind went to...

For heaven’s sake! Give me a break, will you? What’s this shit every time I arrive at this city or leave? I don’t wanna see any drop of rain!

Even though I felt ridiculous about the whole thing, and knew it was nothing but just some weird coincidence, I couldn’t help but think if there was something else going on. It wasn’t raining yet, and I hoped it wouldn’t. On a whim, I opened the trunk again, took out the umbrella, and threw it in the back seat, before locking the car. I was hoping someone or something would take a hint, seeing me prepared for the eventuality.

Just like Murphy... when you’re prepared, shit doesn’t happen, and when you’re not prepared, it happens!

I grinned internally at the thought, and it helped take my mind off other thoughts.

Back in the kitchen, I helped Dana with washing the dishes. By then, the coffee was ready and I filled the thermos. She did a round in the apartment; watering the plants, checking the windows, lights, and water taps, making sure everything was OK, and scribbled a short note, leaving it on the kitchen table.

Seeing my curious look, she said, “For Mom. She’ll be dropping by during my absence; water the plants, check my mail, and such.”

I checked my papers, and tickets, and grabbed my windbreaker, and she grabbed her small carry-on, her handbag, and her coat.

“I guess you’ll need that,” I commented nodding at the carry-on.

“A necessary accessory to our uniform,” she replied.

Finally, we were ready to leave, and I felt my heart go a little bit faster, as it usually did just before a trip.

* * * * *

I managed to avoid traffic jams on the way to the harbor with Dana’s invaluable help, and arrived about 45 minutes before the departure time. Despite the early hour, there was a queue; some twenty or so cars in front of us being directed to the lower deck (car-deck) of the ferry by the deckhands. I was a bit worried that we might not have a place for the car, since the ferry didn’t look big enough for all the cars, and I didn’t even know how many were already onboard. Seeing me nervous, Dana asked what the problem was, and I told her my concerns. She told me she would check it out, and stepped out of the car to talk to one of the deckhands. When she was back, she informed me that the car-deck wasn’t even half-full. That news eased my apprehension considerably. I was still a bit antsy, a result of my growing impatience with the slow progress.

Outside, I could see the sky was heavily overcast, but no rain yet. Wanting to get the latest weather forecast, I turned on the radio, skipping the channels looking for a news broadcast. It was going to be overcast, windy, with choppy waters and spot showers. I groaned at the news of possible rain. I just hoped that we would miss the rain, but more important than that I was hoping the ferry ride would be smooth, despite the wind conditions and choppy water. It had been a long while since I took a ferry ride, and Dana mentioned it would be her first. I didn’t want her to get seasick.

I noticed a deckhand signaling me to approach and he checked our tickets, before he asked me turn on my lights, and directed me to the car-deck. I followed his instructions, and followed the car in front of me. Inside the car-deck, another deckhand took over, signaling me. Finally, he signed me to stop. I turned off the engine and the lights, while he put wheel blocks on the front and back tires. Carefully, Dana and I got out of the car. The deckhand asked us to take our valuables with us before locking the car. Dana took her coat and handbag, while I took my windbreaker and the thermos, before locking the car. I noticed that the floor was covered with a green colored special coating, some kind of anti-slip, which helped answer my questions about how they could prevent the cars from slipping in case of rough weather. There were also rings welded on the floor to secure the cars via the tires, but probably they used them only when the weather was rough. Still, I asked the deckhand about it, but he just waved me away, pointing to the stairs to the main deck, before he hurried back to guide the next car. To tell the truth, I was irritated, and his offhand dismissal didn’t do anything to alleviate my concerns, especially in case the weather changed. Despite the fact that I’ve come across ‘it’s OK, nothing will happen’ attitude more often than not in most places, I never got used to it. Perhaps it was a direct result of working with strict procedures, and regular drills at the rig site. I knew I wouldn’t get any proper response from the deckhand, and decided to look for an officer.

I steered us to the stairs. Climbing the stairs to the next deck, we entered the passenger saloon. Part of the saloon had rows of seats with aisles in between every three seats, forming several columns, arranged similar to the seating in an airplane. The next half consisted of a bar with stools in front of it, bolted to the floor, and small tables and chairs bolted to the floor to serve as a cafeteria/bar. Seeing no officers, I went to the bar and asked the bartender where I could locate one of the officers. He pointed me to the door that led to the deck, and when I turned to look, I saw an officer standing next to the railing, watching the activity on the lower deck. Thanking him, I seated Dana at a small table next to the panoramic window, but before I could leave, she grabbed my arm.

“Something the matter?” she asked.

“It’s nothing. I want to talk to the officer,” I said pointing at him standing right outside window.

“About?”

“Nothing important. Just curious,” I replied.

“Mitch, you look tense. What’s bothering you?” she insisted.

“I’m not tense. I’m just a bit irritated.”

“With what?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t mind me.”

“Don’t mind you?” she asked pointedly, and I realized I couldn’t evade the issue.

I sat down. “It’s kind of a pet peeve of mine, OK?”

“O-K,” she replied, and waited expectantly for me to explain.

“I want to check out something and put my mind at ease. There’s this attitude that I have a little bit of a problem with. That of taking short cuts, risks, because doing something properly, following the correct procedure will take more time or effort.”

“Are they doing something wrong?”

“Umm... not really... maybe... That’s what I wanted to check out. May I?”

She nodded in understanding and patted my hand. “Go, talk with him,” she said with a soft smile.

I stood up, and after giving her a peck on her cheek, I left for the passenger saloon.

The officer was watching the activity on the deck and the loading ramp where the cars were moving slowly in a queue. He was a young man, mid-30s, dressed in a neatly pressed, dark blue uniform. His face had the rugged look that was so common to people who spent their time on ships, tanned, deeply lined, especially around the eyes, from squinting against the blaring sun. After a polite greeting, I told him my concerns, emphasizing the weather forecast I heard on the radio, and the lack of response from the deckhand. He gave me a sympathetic smile, and told me they expected mild weather. Then, he used the walkie-talkie he had in his hand to contact the bridge, asking for weather information. I got the feeling that he was asking for the information for my benefit to assuage any fears I might have. I could hear the warbled conversation, but could hardly catch anything except a few words. When the report ended, he told me that today’s weather conditions were going to be very mild.

“It’s going to be a very smooth ride. We’ve hardly ever needed to secure the cars with tie-downs in the past,” he added for good measure.

Feeling a bit self-conscious, and rather uncomfortable, I asked him about sudden changes in weather, which startled him.

“Actually, that’s not a big concern, Mr.—I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” he said, giving me a measured look.

“Tanner. Mitchell Tanner.”

“Well, Mr. Tanner, this is shallow water, and we don’t really see rough weather in these waters. Is this your first time on a ferry?”

“No. Well, I took the Ro-Ro a few times in the past, but they operate over short distances, you know. So, I didn’t give it much thought. But this isn’t a Ro-Ro.”

“I understand. Don’t worry, Mr. Tanner. These waters are quite tame. Now, if we were talking about Aegean or Mediterranean, that would be another matter, especially in winter. The weather can turn very quickly. We have other vessels that go to various ports in Europe; Spain, France, Italy, and so on, but they still follow the shallow water routes. I personally recall only a handful occasions that we had to use the tie-downs for the vehicles in the car deck. Mostly, we change course to avoid the front. You’re in safe hands, Mr. Tanner. We’ll have smooth sailing today.”

Satisfied, I thanked him. I stayed on the deck for a few minutes, watching the activity below the deck, and onshore, then walked around the deck looking at the evacuation boats, before my eyes caught sight of the boat layout diagram and evacuation plans on the wall. I took a few minutes inspecting the diagrams, mostly to get familiar with the layout of the boat, but also checked out the emergency exits, and compared them to the visual layout of the passenger saloon, and the deck. I spent some time reading the evacuation instructions carefully. When I finished reading, I turned the leave, and found the officer watching me. With a smile, he approached me.

“You’re the first passenger I’ve seen paying attention to those,” he said.

Feeling a bit self-conscious at being caught investigating the emergency evacuation plans, I said, “I wanted to familiarize myself with the layout. It’s not that you didn’t convince me. It’s... well, it’s something of a habit. Am I the first one to look at them or ask about the cars?”

He laughed. “Oh, no. Some people look at them, especially if they are curious or they get lost, but we hardly see anybody checking out the emergency procedures and instructions.”

“I understand. As I said, it’s mostly habit. I like to be ready for any eventuality.”

“All our personnel are trained for emergencies,” he offered.

“It’s good to know,” I replied. From the curious and puzzled look in his eyes, I knew he was trying to assuage any fears I might have. I decided to explain myself, and told him about the kind of work I do, mentioning the strict training and drills regularly we all went through at the rig-site.

I guess I must have answered the questions he had, because he nodded in understanding and with a small smile, he joked, “Since you’re familiar with emergency situations, we might recruit you.”

“I knew I missed my calling! I love the sea and the idea of a girl at each port is...” I joked which earned me a short laugh. “But I think I’d be more of a hindrance. I’d rather make sure I can follow the instructions from the trained professionals,” I added and he nodded in appreciation of the compliment. “Besides, I think my girlfriend might fare better at it; she’s a flight attendant,” I said and turned in her direction where she sat behind the window watching us. Seeing us looking, she flashed a small smile and waved.

“Ahh, yes, of course. In an emergency keeping calm is very important, but I’m not telling you something you don’t know already,” he said. “We’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that. Please, enjoy the trip, Mr. Tanner.”

“Thank you. Looking forward to it,” I replied, before taking my leave.

I returned to the passenger saloon and took a seat next to Dana. I gave her a brief explanation of my conversation. I pointed the exits, and summarized the evacuation procedures, receiving an indulgent smile.

When I finished, she asked, “Do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Check out things like safety and emergency procedures?”

“I thought it would be a change for you, since you’ve been doing it for so long,” I joked, trying to hide how self-conscious I felt at her question.

She chuckled, but she wasn’t fooled by my efforts. “You know what I mean,” she said.

“Well... It’s kind of become second nature you know. I mean I don’t always listen to the instructions when the flight attendants go through their demonstrations, because I’m familiar with the stuff anyway, since I fly frequently in same type of aircraft. I just... I don’t know... I want to be in control when a situation arises, and I’d rather be prepared. I rely on my own...” I trailed off, suddenly realizing what I was saying.

“On your own resources, because you don’t trust others,” she finished my sentence for me, after several seconds.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I retorted defensively. “I mean... yeah, I do have a problem with some people. I told you how I felt about certain attitudes. Some people are just plain lazy or ignorant. You point out possible problems, and they shrug and tell you ‘it’s in God’s hands!’ Right! And when the tragedy strikes, they chant, ‘God’s will!’ I really do have a problem with that kind of mentality and attitude. Especially among the educated, trained professionals. God helps those who help themselves. Taking risks or cutting corners without any thought to possible consequences is nothing other than being stupid and asking for trouble. And I rather not let my loved ones and their lives in the hands of those idiots.” Seeing the look on her face, I hastily added, “I thought you’d understand it. You’re a trained professional. Would you let a drunken pilot at the controls or if he skips the preflight check?”

“Oh, I understand, Mitch. I wasn’t criticizing. I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about it or were so sensitive on the subject. I’m rather flattered that you’re concerned about my well-being and safety. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

She held my gaze until she was convinced I understood her. Her words went a long way to put me at ease, and I tried to smile, although I wasn’t sure how successful I was.

“Shall we go out on the deck and look around?” I asked. When she nodded, I put on my windbreaker, and helped her put on her coat after telling her it was chilly outside.

We walked the deck, circling the boat from one end to the other, and stopped at the back, watching the last few cars being guided over the ramp to the car-deck, and the rest of the ship crew preparing for getting the ferry to get underway. Finally, all the cars were in. The loading ramp was raised and locked in place. Then they released the ropes from the moorings, and coiled them on the lower deck. We could feel the vibration of the engines picking up speed, and saw the water start to churn. The horn blasted a few times, announcing the departure, and I checked my watch. It was 8:08 am. Slowly the ferry moved away from the pier. Once it cleared the breaks, it picked up speed.

The wind was cold on my back as the ferry moved further and further away. I moved behind Dana to block the wind, and we continued to watch the scenery. A few minutes later, we walked toward the front of the boat. Along the side, there were bulkheads with wooden benches for sitting and watching the view. The partitions reached all the way to the ceiling and sported large Plexiglas panes, offering shelter from most of the wind without cutting off the view. We walked past several bulkheads before we sat down. Dana snuggled to my side, and I put my arm around her shoulder, trying to keep her warm.

The harbor was located at the tip of a peninsula with an estuary to the northwest and it faced the mouth of the straight to the north. The ferry made its way out of the harbor on a northerly course heading towards the mouth of the strait for a short while, before it turned east and then to the south in a gentle arc until it was heading out to open sea.

During that short interval, in the distance, we caught a brief view of the anchor towers of the bridge rising up like sentinels on both sides of the straight. With the slight haze and against the backdrop of overcast sky, the main deck and the steel pylons were difficult to see; they looked like ghostly apparitions. The bridge misleadingly looked like a Lego construct. However, at the time it was completed some fifteen or more years ago, it was actually ranked as the fourth or fifth longest suspension bridge in the world. The deck hanging on steel cables was more than 1500 meters long, and the main span (the section between the gravity anchor towers) was just over 1000 meters. At night, with all the traffic and special lighting, it was a beautiful sight to behold.

Pity we won’t pass beneath it. I would have liked to get a close view of it.

There was a lot of traffic in the straight. Some were headed north into the strait, and some were headed south, in our direction fanning out of the straight into open sea. Then there were the fishing boats, other ferries threading along or across the strait, but the majority of vessels were cargo ships and tankers. Close by we saw two cargo ships, one with Japanese markings, and the other bearing the Romanian flag. Both were in the process of disengaging from tugboats.

To their east, there was a huge tanker, looking stationary. Perhaps, it was holding position, awaiting permission to enter the strait, or waiting for a tugboat. Surprisingly, not all captains made use of the tugboats to navigate the strait, despite its busy traffic and treacherous undercurrents. And because of that, there had been quite a few incidents in the past. A few ships had come close to collision. Some got stranded in shallow waters under foggy conditions, pulled by the currents and variations in low and high tides that further complicated the situation, necessitating costly rescue operations. The most recent incident had been an empty tanker that hit the shore, causing extensive damage to the jetty of an old wooden villa; they had ended up paying a substantial sum of money for damages besides the penalties and the rescue costs.

As the ferry headed south, I returned to watching the estuary before it slipped from view behind the peninsula. Rich in history and colorful in its mix of people, it was perhaps my favorite part of the town. The peninsula and its immediate surroundings were where the city was first founded, and the estuary had been its heart and soul. Well known and named after its incredible color during sunset, it also held a very distinguished place in the pages of history.

My eyes took in the walls along the shoreline. Built centuries ago to protect the city against naval attacks and repaired countless times since then, they looked almost in pristine condition. Beyond visual range, to the west, stood another series of fortified walls and ditches. At one time upgraded to withstand cannon fire, they had served the city well and protected it against countless sieges over the centuries, but today, only parts of it remained; some of it in very good condition, some under restoration, and the rest either damaged or dismantled as the city outgrew its medieval boundaries. Another piece missing from view was the boom across the entrance to the estuary that had been used to prevent incursions by unwanted ships. For all purposes, the city had been impregnable.

Yeah, right! Talk about false sense of security!

Perhaps, I was being uncharacteristically unfair or subjective. After all, it had seen many sieges during its 1000 years of existence, only to be captured twice and retaken back each time. It was an impressive record. However, that record was finally broken. After a long siege from land and sea, and numerous attacks, the city had finally succumbed to the brilliant tactics of one man that surprised not only his enemies, but also the then-known part of the whole world.

Whoever heard of transporting ships over land?

As I recalled the history of the city, I looked at the estuary and tried to visualize how they managed to tow the ships across the land and into the estuary over greased logs.

Although the idea was copied from an earlier period, it was nevertheless a very ambitious and unconventional tactic. The sheer size and number of ships, and labor requirements should have made it a logistic nightmare, if not an impossibility. And yet, it was executed flawlessly. With ships in the estuary to attack the inner walls and weaken the overall defenses, the tactic would eventually prove fatal to the defenders. When the city finally fell, it hadn’t just signaled the end of an old, declining empire; it had marked the ushering of a new era!

And what a crown jewel this city made for the new empire!

The magnificent beauty was all there to see, despite the encroachment of modern world laying siege to the old. It was widely visited, full of tourists from all over the world at any given time... people searching for the exotic, the mysterious, or the splendor of the past. Even today, it surprised me to no end to see the visitors go suddenly slack jawed with surprise or awe as they tried to absorb the grandeur of the riches displayed in the museums, or when they looked at the intricate, ornate architecture offering a taste of opulence seen only in a few select places around the world. To tell the truth, sometimes I felt awed just because I was breathing history by taking a stroll on a cobblestone street that changed very little for more than millennia.

As if to remind me to stop wandering in the dusty pages of history, the object of my musings—the estuary—slipped past from view, blocked by the eastern shore of the peninsula. To the south, it was open sea, and the ferry picked up more speed as it settled in its final course.

I took out my cigarette and lit one, offering and lighting another one for Dana as well. She asked if I wanted some coffee, but I declined; she looked like she needed it more than I did and we had only one cup—the screw-on cap of the thermos. It was quite cold outside, even though we were sheltered from much of the wind, both from the early morning wind as well as the speed at which the ferry was traveling. On this side of the boat—I have no clue about the real terms like starboard or port side, so I can’t tell you which one is which—there were no passengers. Probably no one wanted to brave the cold wind, opting for the comfortable warmth of the passenger saloon.

I saw the same officer descending the stairs from the upper deck where the bridge was located. He took refuge in one of the bulkheads. I was wondering why he was outside, when I saw the smoke, and realized he just lit a cigarette.

I guess they aren’t allowed to smoke on the bridge.

For a while, he watched the receding shoreline, before he scanned the deck and noticed us in the corner. He gave a quick nod in recognition, and returned to watching the scenery. Taking a final drag from his cigarette, he flicked it out to the sea. I watched him walk to us.

He briefly touched the brim of his hat. “Good morning, folks. Enjoying the scenery?”

“Yes,” Dana answered. “Even though it’s cold, it’s nice. I think Mitch missed it more than I did.”

“How long will it take?” I asked.

He checked his watch, and said, “We have about forty minutes to go. The passenger saloon is warm and quite comfortable.”

“It didn’t look crowded when we were inside. What’s the capacity?” I asked.

“50 cars, and 200 passengers, but we could safely take on another 50 passengers. We have about 133 passengers right now. It’s normal for a weekday,” he replied. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better report to the bridge. Enjoy the trip.” Then he was on his way to the bridge.

We sat there while I finished my cigarette and had a cup of coffee. It was cold, and I didn’t want Dana to catch cold, so we went inside. I steered Dana to a quiet corner, telling her I would catch a catnap. She smiled and followed my example. We reclined our seats, and she snuggled, resting her head on my shoulder, after she put her handbag and the thermos between us. I didn’t really sleep, but just closed my eyes and filtered out the hum of people around. The gentle rolling motion of the ferry helped along to rest my body. I was aware of Dana’s presence, and I could sense she was more awake than I was.

It was probably half an hour later, when I started to pick up the slight increase in the general hubbub around us. When Dana started to move trying to avoid disturbing me, I realized we were probably close to our destination. I pulled myself out of my rest gradually, opened my eyes, and found Dana watching me.

“Did you really sleep?” she asked softly.

“I wasn’t sleeping. A different kind of resting.”

“Ah! I thought you were asleep.”

“Nope. Now, I need some fresh air, and perhaps a cup of coffee, if we have time.”

She nodded and grabbed her handbag. I pulled her to her feet, taking the thermos, and we went out to the deck. The cold wind helped wake me up immediately, as we walked to the front. The harbor was visible, not too far away, and the ferry was slowing down. I directed us to one of the bulkheads, out of the wind. Filling the cup, I shared it with Dana. We watched the ferry make its maneuvers into harbor, then to its designated pier. Then, the PA came on, announcing our approach to the harbor, and instructing the drivers of each vehicle to make their way to the car-deck. Quickly scanning the layout of the pier, I pointed at an out of the way spot, and told Dana to wait for me there.

“No need to go into the hassle of trying to get into the car, or waiting inside the car-deck. You can leave on foot, and I’ll pick you up at that spot,” I said, and she nodded her agreement.

I finished the last of my cup, and screwed the cap on the thermos, then we made our way into the passenger saloon. Dana moved to the exit point, while I made my way to the stairs. It was crowded on the stairs, and worse in the car-deck, people trying move between the cars, while drivers were trying to open the doors and get in their cars. So, I stayed by the stairs, until the herd settled down. The ferry had to be secured to the moorings first, then the front loading ramp would be lowered onto the pier, and finally the deckhands would begin removing the wheel blocks from the cars, and direct the traffic out of the ferry onto the pier. A lot of things needed to be done before a single car could leave the ferry, which would take some time, so I wasn’t worried or in a hurry. I looked around and saw Dana sitting in one of the seats near the edge of the room, close to the bar, while most of the passengers were grouped around the exit door, and out on the deck.

I felt the throb of the engines, and I knew the ferry was maneuvering to dock at the pier, so I made my way down the stairs. It was still chaotic on the car deck, and I saw the deckhands running from vehicle to vehicle, removing the wheel blocks, while drivers were either standing next to their car, or sitting inside. I walked around my car to see if some idiot hit it with something (like opening their car door carelessly), and checked for any signs of damage to the bodywork, as well as the lights and the tires. Satisfied, I unlocked the car, and stood on the side, out of the way of the deckhands, other passengers, or drivers.

About ten minutes later, I heard a big clang, indicating the front loading ramp was lowered, and a bit later, the car engines could be heard starting. I got in, and waited patiently until I saw that the cars in front of me were beginning to move. I started the engine, turned on my lights, and followed behind them, paying attention to the signals from the deckhands.

Out on the pier, I moved out of the line to the spot where Dana was waiting for me, and stopped. Once she got in, I signaled to get back into the line. As usual, no one had heard of courtesy, so I had to cut in front of some asshole when he wasn’t quick enough and received a blaring horn for my trouble.

“Hi yourself!” I said to the asshole to get it out of my chest. If Dana wasn’t around, I would probably have used some select words, but in mixed company, I always tried to keep my tongue in check. I turned to her and said, “Now, where were we?” with a wry grin.

She laughed at my antics, shaking her head. “He bugged you, didn’t he?”

“Well, yeah. He was annoying. It’s the same all around. If you’re a second late to move when the lights turn green, BEEEP! If you brake hard, and he was following too close, but manages to brake in time, BEEEP! For every imagined and real fault they perceive, their answer is BEEEP! I think that’s the only time they feel like they are in control of something; unfortunately, they aren’t in control of anything! Not with that attitude. Apart from getting frustrated, they frustrate others, which in turn cause more frustration; it’s a vicious circle. It is going to take some time to get out of here onto the road, so one car or ten cars aren’t going to make any difference. But, they are just too stupid to think about it. Why should he, when he could blame it on someone else. So, yeah. That bugs the hell out of me.”

I found her giving me an appraising look as she listened to my short discourse. Concerned that she might think I was still venting out, I put on a wry grin and tried to joke. “And that ends our introduction to ‘Herd Behavior 101.’ Tomorrow, we’ll have a quiz, so be ready.”

That took her out of the trance-like state she was in, and she laughed. When she caught her breath, she said, “You don’t much care for most people, do you?”

“That depends on people. I try to treat people politely, and give them the benefit of the doubt when they don’t return it, but if they indicate they aren’t worth it, I certainly will try to avoid them or not show them any respect. Respect isn’t given freely; it is earned. That’s what I believe, and what I try to live by.”

“Yes, some people don’t deserve respect, but don’t you think that you’ll be falling to their level, by acting the way you do? If you keep on doing what you do, don’t you think you’ll be starting to behave more and more like them?”

“I don’t think so. I mean... there’s a difference between basic civility and going the distance and according something more... like being considerate. For some people, I don’t feel charitable enough to give anything more than what basic civility requires when they demonstrate they don’t deserve it. For others, I would go the distance. And this has nothing to do with their position or education or who they are. A guy who isn’t very well educated or isn’t polished enough will have his limitations in how he shows his respect, but I can sense he’s doing something to show his respect... something in his eyes or in the way he talks... and I will return it. I’m just making a deliberate choice in how I treat people based on how they treat me.” I took a pause, considering something else that made its way to the surface from the dark corners of my mind. “There are times, however, when people really bother me... every little thing they do just bugs me... when I’m feeling stressed, or irritated, or tired... you know. I was trying to rein in my own impatience, and he just bugged me.”

She thought about it, mulling it over, and nodded.

“I could have done what most of them would do,” I was saying when I had to brake. I pointed at the third car in front of us, which stopped so that two people could get in, while the cars in front of it kept moving on. “Look! That’s an example of what I could have done. Stop for you to get in while in the queue, and force every other car behind me to stop and wait. For them that’s an offense and—” I got cut off with impatient horns coming from cars behind me. I laughed at the irony. “There you go; BEEEP! But it’s so common, it’s accepted, and the reaction is automatic. Whereas, when I move aside to stop, not to hold up the other cars, they don’t care. When I try to get back into the line, they try to block me off. That idiot behind us was slow to move, and I had my signal on. When I was moving into the line, he tried to catch up and block me. He’s breaking the rules in the first place, but that’s beside the point. And then, beep! Yeah, it’s a small thing; I could just shrug my shoulders and move on. Still, it bugs me because it’s just the tip of the iceberg, if you think about it. And it’s getting worse and worse. You should know it better than I do; you’re face to face with people from all walks of life every day when you’re working.”

“Yes. You’re right about that. I guess I’ve seen it so many times, I don’t even think about it. I kind of filter it out, not let it bother me. Otherwise, it will cause undue stress and the job is stressful enough as it is.”

While we were talking we kept on moving in starts and stops, and finally we were out of the harbor, on the main street. When we stopped at a traffic light, I checked the direction signs, and figured out where I had to go. While waiting for the lights I tried to lighten up our talk.

“You’ve been to Cairo?”

“Yes, why?”

“One of the drillers I work with told me a joke about the way the people drive there. He was taking a vacation there with his family couple of years ago, and he was complaining about it. The story goes something like this. The taxi driver is running all the red lights, his passenger scared to death expecting a crash at any moment. Suddenly, he brakes, hard, at a green light! After catching his breath, the passenger asks the driver why he stopped at a green light. The driver tells him that the other drivers are taking their turn to run the red light.”

She must have heard it before because I got a polite smile.

“You’ve heard it before?”

She nodded. “It’s not exactly like that but not too far off either. Paris is the same, and quite many parts of Italy. I think it might be the Mediterranean blood or the warm climate. People are... more emotional, active, impatient... compared to northern parts of Europe.”

“Yeah. That kinda makes sense. I haven’t been too far north, only north of Holland, and there’s already a bit of difference between north and south of it. And much bigger difference between the Dutch and the Italians or Belgians. It’s funny. The more north you go, it looks better organized, but somewhat lacking in excitement or not very lively. The more south you go, it’s more disorganized, almost chaotic at times, but it’s more exciting and lively.”

“So, which one do you prefer?” she asked.

“I’m a middle-of-the-road kind of guy. I like lively, and exciting, but also organized,” I answered without giving it a second thought.

“They are mutually exclusive, you know,” she retorted teasing me.

“I don’t think so. It’s more like roses and thorns, with too many thorns and less of rose petals,” I countered.

After a short pause, she pointedly said, “Yin and yang.”

I was so surprised by her response I turned to her to read her expression. The blaring horn behind me reminded that the lights turned green, and I put the car in gear and drove. However, I wasn’t over my shock yet.

“Why do you say that?” I asked after a long drawn silence.

“I don’t know. It struck me more appropriate than the rose and thorns example. They complement each other. At least, that’s what I heard.”

“And?” I prompted, feeling there was more to it that she wasn’t saying.

“You want roses without thorns, even though you know that’s not as it should be. We all want roses. Yin and Yang, on the other hand... there’s a reminder there about striking the proper balance between the two, that the example of roses and thorns do not have. Am I wrong?” she responded. While I was mulling it over, she added, “I’m not so familiar with the concept. It’s just something I remember from my trips to the Far East.”

“You are telling me—strike that!—you’re reminding me I don’t have that balance,” I replied. “In fact, you told me that before, when we were discussing inviting Sarah into our relationship.” I wasn’t accusing her, but trying to get a feel for why she had said what she did.

“Don’t take it as a criticism, or an accusation, Mitch. For someone who’s into Eastern philosophy, and martial arts, I thought it was a good frame of reference to keep in mind,” she responded with a carefully modulated tone.

I didn’t have to glance at her to know that her eyes were on me, observing my reaction with an intense scrutiny. To put her at ease, I said, “You’re right. I seem to lose perspective more often than not. To tell the truth, I’m... I’m avoiding... things... I’ve avoided things for a long time.” I took a quick look at her to see how she was taking my response. “I’m not hurt, Dana. I don’t think it was easy for you to say something like that to me. It’s not fair to you... or to anybody else for that matter... to expect them to shoulder most of the responsibility in a relationship... dealing with issues, such as communication, solving problems... I’ll try to do better.”

Another long silence followed, before she responded. “I’m your friend, Mitch, and I’m your lover. The most important thing is being friends. I’m not saying I will cease to love you. No one knows what the future holds. Feelings change, affections change, but friendship, a solid friendship lasts through all the trials. So, don’t concern yourself about what I might think, about giving me the wrong impression. OK? I just want to get to know you better... the person behind... you know what I mean.”

A pregnant silence followed, and after reflecting on her words, I nodded.

“I do care a lot about you, and I know you do care for me. That’s a good beginning. Being lovers is secondary,” she continued. I felt her hand on my thigh. “And this is not ‘I’d like to be friends with you’ talk... if you’re wondering about that. I think you know me and my feelings.”

I could almost hear the amusement in her tone, and grinned at her sense of humor. She never ceased to amaze me with the way she could change from a serious talk to something humorous, especially to make her point, while easing any tension that might arise during the course of a serious discussion.

“That’s good to know. For a while I was worried I passed through a time-warp and was back in high school,” I retorted.

She patted my thigh in answer. “Now, I have another serious question. Do you want to change our travel itinerary?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really want to visit the summer flat, and stay at the town, or would you rather stop at another place for the night?” she asked.

“I thought you wanted me to show you the place, visit the interesting spots?” I replied quickly, before I realized I was avoiding answering her question. “I think it’s a good plan. I’d like to do that,” I added feeling a bit sheepish.

“I’d like that, too, but I wasn’t sure if you really wanted it,” she replied.

“Why would you think—” I stopped, realizing how defensive my question sounded like.

Jeezz! Why am I acting like that? Why can’t I just relax and be myself? Shit! I sound like a teenage kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“You’re right... partially,” I said. I collected my thoughts to try to explain my feelings. “It’s not that I don’t want to go there. I want to. I’d like to show you around, too, and share the experience with you, but...” I glanced at her to see what she was making of what I was trying to tell her. “It’s not about Reina. I have many good memories of the place, and she had been a part of some good and bad memories for a very short time, but they are a drop in the bucket compared to all the other memories, so it’s not about her.”

I glanced at her to see how she took my words, and found only an expectant look as if she was waiting for me to elaborate.

“That place had been special. I don’t know how I could explain it. Of all the places I’ve been to, it’s the one I had enjoyed the most and felt comfortable. It’s like... it was like my own north star, an anchor. I’m not sure if it is home or would ever be home. Home is something else. But that place... it’s special. Well, it was special, but I don’t know if it is still special. The thing is I haven’t visited it in a long while. I’ve been there for a couple of days a few years ago because it was on my way, and I felt like seeing it. But since then... I’ve avoided it. I’m just not sure what I will find there, if anything... or how I feel about visiting it. Elated, scared, anxious? I just don’t know. I don’t even understand the significance. Or why I assign any significance to that place. It’s like... it’s something I have to do, and do soon.” I looked at her, and asked, “Do I make any sense?”

“Mitch, it doesn’t have to make sense to me. Some things would and some don’t. It has to make sense for you, and only you would know what kind of sense it makes. But yes, I understand where you’re coming from. You’re probably searching for answers; hope to find them there. Perhaps, the good memories are really a big part of it. You’ve built a thick wall around yourself. You’ve said so, and maybe that place and the good memories are your links to the outside world from which you’ve withdrawn. Or maybe it’s because you’re comfortable in that place... in your own safe haven where you can stand and look around without needing your walls. I’m not sure.” She took a dramatic pause, and I glanced at her. “But I know one thing. I’m glad that you’ve decided to go there and take me with you,” she concluded with a very emotional timber to her voice.

She squeezed my thigh, telling me she empathized with me, and I could sense the truth or validity of some of her conjectures. I took her hand and kissed her palm in answer to her sentiment—I was glad she was with me, she would be with me, there—before placing it back on my thigh again.

As I thought about what we talked about, I drove on, finally, getting out of town on to the highway. The sky was still overcast, but no rain yet, and I was quite happy for the break. I wanted to make good time while on the highway, before leaving it for the coastal road that was a secondary, with single lane, and lower speed limit.

“Umm... why did you ask me if I wanted to take you there? Did I look like I didn’t want to go there?” I asked.

“No, it’s... Well... Do you remember when we were all around the table, looking at the map?”

“Yeah.”

“When Sarah commented about her visit to your parent’s flat, and kept on offering advice? You looked a bit... I don’t know. I got the feeling that you weren’t enthusiastic about it. You almost looked like you were irritated with Sarah.”

“I see... you didn’t say anything, then.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were reluctant. I thought it might be because of Reina, but... I was also trying to figure out why Sarah kept on raving about the place. To tell the truth I really wanted to see it, especially after what you said about that movie. I still want to see those places.”

I was thinking about why Sarah kept on going the way she did. If she had noticed I was reluctant at the time, she hadn’t given me any indication. “Do you think Sarah did it on purpose?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe she really thought we would have a good time, what with all the talk about the movie, the actor, and the place. Maybe she thought it would give us a chance to be in a setting where we would have a lot to talk about and get to know each other. I thought about asking her in private, but... I wasn’t sure if she was doing it on purpose. She seemed genuinely excited, enthusiastic with the idea, and it looked like she thought we would have a great time there. Maybe she wanted to share the experience with me, or wanted me to get a taste of it. She is... she’s difficult to read at times.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. She’s energetic and lively, apart from being kind and generous, but there’s also something subtle below the surface... something deeper that she doesn’t show so much. Kathy and her, they are kind of wild at times. Sarah seems to be the wildest, while Kathy is the tamer of the two, but I found myself wondering if that’s really the case.”

“Are you talking about her empathy... after that night?” I asked with a whisper like tone, feeling uncomfortable to remind her...

“Umm...Yes... sort of! She’s a caring person, so I understand the empathy, but she’s also a doctor, and they learn about distancing themselves. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. I’m not one of her patients, so she might not try to distance herself, but... I thought I sensed something more than the genuine care, and concern she showed, something a bit deeper but subtle. Maybe it’s me, my own feelings that are confusing me. I don’t know. I’m very much taken by her. It’s so strange... to love another woman. I... umm... I’m talking in the sense of a lover-friend rather than a friend only. I’m attracted to her. It’s easy to be attracted to her, or love her, but this is something entirely different. You know what I mean?”

I nodded.

“You’re not bothered by that, are you?” she asked.

“I’m not, because I don’t know what I should be bothered about. It’s all so strange and new to me as well. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but I also have enough on my plate to worry about. I don’t know much about that kind of relationship. It’s not my place to say anything. I’m reluctant to get into that subject, when not everyone is present.” I turned to look at her to see how she would take it, but she returned my gaze neutrally.

I turned my attention to the road. “Anyway. I know that you both touch something inside me. I just don’t know the depth of my feelings for each of you. I mean... Sarah is an old friend, so we have something of a history, even though we were not romantically involved, but it seems we had lusted after each other. We realize that now, but what else is there, apart from our friendship, and caring for each other? I don’t know. With you, I felt a different connection, and it wasn’t lust. Oh, it wasn’t gratitude, and yet there was—there is—that, to some degree, but I know it’s not just gratitude only. And the first time we made love, I felt like coming home. And every so often when we kiss... you know that, don’t you?”

I felt her nod, and glanced at her, receiving a loving look, her eyes smiling at me. I checked my watch. It was 9:50. Trying to change the subject, I said, “We’re on the highway, now, and we have about 150 km to go, before I take the secondary highway. Maybe you should try to rest a bit, while the ride is still smooth, because the next section will be a slow drive, on a long and coarse stretch. If we arrive early, we can do some sightseeing.”

“I’m not tired or sleepy,” Dana replied. “Can you put on some music?”

So, I put a tape in the stereo, and we listened to it. The scenery was bland, as we were driving more inland, away from the shore, the asphalt stretching in front of us. The scenery was changing from low-lying farmlands and forests to hilly country, to gray and brown of rocks. There were some small villages far away in the distance, secluded between hills or mountains, small farming communities. The traffic was light, and I was expecting to make good time, until... until the rain started; first, as intermittent, small drops and then, turned into a continuous sheet of water that reduced the visibility, slowing us down.

After a while, Dana reclined her seat and dozed off. I turned off the stereo, listening to the rhythmic twank-twank of the wipers, and the raindrops on the glass rooftop. The sky was dark gray; the clouds were so low, it felt like I could touch them if I tried to reach up, as the road steadily climbed up, gaining in altitude. The highway would continue inland for a while before it swung gradually west, towards the Aegean coastline, where I would take a secondary highway, a single lane road that would take us further towards the coast before it ran parallel to the shore. There was already some snow at the highest peaks, the further we drove inland. At times, I had to reduce my speed more, at the mountain passes. The wind-carried pine needles from nearby forests of pine trees—combined with the rain—made the road slippery. In spring and summer, these passes were beautiful, the smell of pines all around me, as I drove with the rooftop open, enjoying the cool air of high altitude, before it gave way to the more humid and hot air of the lower altitudes, near the shoreline. But now, with the clouds so low, threatening, and the continuous rain, it had an ominous appearance; as if the sky and the land were moving towards each other, trying to crush anything caught in between them, despite the two-lane spread of the highway.

This was the kind of weather you’d want to curl up under a blanket in front of a fireplace in a wooden cabin instead of driving. I just hoped and prayed that it would clear up as we turned and drove towards the coast. But then again, this was the time of the rainy season, before winter announced its arrival, at least in this part of the country. Along the Aegean coast it would also be rainy, misty, and cold, but milder compared to inland or the mountains, and snow was a rarity, unless we were having an extremely cold and long winter season. I remembered spending some time in a small town further south along the Aegean in February, a few years ago. It had felt like an early spring. Later though, it was followed by a vicious March and a relatively cold April all the way through mid-May. It had been quite an unusual seasonal change then.

The road slowly turned westward, and we started to descend, leaving the mountains and the hills behind us. The rain seemed to ease off as well, giving way to localized and intermittent showers. The dark rain-clouds were replaced by a lighter shade of clouds. The sun was discernible as a white circular disc behind an overcast sky, as an early morning full moon would look on a clear blue sky. In about two and half hours time, we covered the 200-kilometer stretch of the highway, and took the secondary highway—a single lane coarse road made of compacted-gravel on a layer of asphalt and tar. This was the road that more or less paralleled the zigzag pattern of the western coast, connecting the various towns and cities dotting the shore. It turned east, and ran along the southern coast, the Mediterranean.

As soon as I hit the road, Dana woke up. Due to the low quality of the road, the heavy trucks would leave grooves on the road, when the asphalt and tar would soften in the summer heat, and numerous repairs and patches over the years had left the road with a distinct camber. Thus, the ride wasn’t smooth compared to the main highway, and the suspension system of my car was quite stiff, letting us feel all the irregularities of the road.

“We just left the highway, and are on the coastal road,” I said, as Dana yawned and rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up. “I’m going to stop at a diner in a short while. It’s almost noon.”

Without a word, she straightened her seat, and after settling back on her seat, she reached for the thermos.

“I think the coffee is old and cold. If you can wait a bit, we’ll have fresh coffee as well as lunch,” I said.

“I’m not that hungry, but I would like to have some coffee,” she answered. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. Were you bored?”

I laughed. “Nope. It was sleepy weather. I’m used to driving by myself, and I’m glad you rested a bit. I think we’ll be there early enough and have a chance to take in the sights. Are you comfortable?”

“I am. The seat is a bit stiff, but it reclines more than an airplane seat, so I slept well,” she replied.

“Yeah. I’ve slept a lot in the car when while traveling. It’s not bad, but then I’m quite used to sleeping in the car. I wasn’t sure if you’d be comfortable.”

“Don’t worry, Mitch. I’m quite comfortable. I had a good rest, better than I expected.”

“OK. Umm... Will you be all right if I drove us at night in a day or two? I don’t want to waste the daytime on the road, unless you don’t want to travel at night.”

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

“Well... I can show you around this afternoon and perhaps tomorrow, and then travel tomorrow night or very early next morning. It’s about 5-600 kilometers drive. If we start around 3 am, we should make it by 10 or 11 am. That gives us time to find a hotel, and catch the afternoon sun by the beach.”

“Sounds good. I think I will be able to sleep. What about you? Won’t you be tired driving at night?”

“I’m used to that. Most of the time, I drive at night. I’ll probably stop for an hour or two and catch a nap at a resting place, but I’ll catch up with my rest later, by the beach. We should also have an early night tomorrow, since we’ll be waking up very early.”

“OK. Is there a gas station coming up?”

“Yeah. Are you dying to have some coffee?”

“No, I... I need to use the facilities.”

I grinned.

“It’s not funny,” she retorted, seeing me grin.

“I was just remembering the trips with the family. We had to stop frequently for Kathy and Mom. That’s all.” Before she could respond, I added, “Check out the glove compartment. There’s something you might need.”

Feeling her eyes on me, I glanced at her. She had a quizzical expression on her face, wondering, and I grinned. Giving in to her curiosity, she opened the glove compartment, and I was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as soon as she saw what was in there. I tried to keep a straight face, but I wasn’t very successful, knowing I had surprised her.

“Aren’t you a smug son of a—” she retorted, looking at a roll of toilet paper. When I nodded, she smacked me on the head playfully.

“Aren’t you the lucky one with a well prepared boyfriend?” I quipped. That earned me a small laugh.

“Am I?” she responded.

“I don’t know. You tell me,” I returned.

Laughing, she gave me a loving caress on my neck instead of an answer. “You really are a piece of work. I need to be more careful,” she said.

“I travel a lot, so I’m well prepared. That’s all.”

Suddenly, she had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Let’s see how well prepared you are. Do you have any panty-liners?”

“Oh, come on. That’s not fair! I said I’m well prepared. I didn’t say I have a mobile shop,” I retorted. “Besides, those things are personal. I wouldn’t know what brand to carry.” I turned to look at her, and with a grin I asked, “What brand should I buy?”

“You’re so baaad!” she said, smacking me on my head. “You would, though, wouldn’t you?”

“If you’re nice to me, I would,” I replied. With a wink at her, I said, “Anything to hold up my end!”

Instead of an answer she chuckled, amused at my antics. Leaning in she kissed my neck. “You’re full of surprises, Mitch. I like that. I like that very much.”

I caught sight of a road-sign, and said, “There’s a rest place coming up.” It was a gas station with a diner where some of the coach services stopped for a break—a lunch or dinner break depending on the time of day.

We stopped at the diner for a light lunch. I had a bowl of soup, and a slice of chocolate cake with a cup of strong, bitter tea, while she had a hamburger and coffee. I also bought a plastic bottle of water and Coke, and a couple bars of chocolate at a small store next to the diner. While we were shopping, Dana pulled me to the aisle with the toiletries, and giving me a teasing look, she pointed at the panty liners and tampons, telling me which brands she used, daring me. Without any hesitation, I picked a pack of each item she pointed at. If she was surprised, she didn’t show it, but I suspected she expected me to rise to her challenge. At the cash counter, I was nonchalant and carefully ignored the look I was getting from the cashier girl, while Dana kept a poker face.

Back at the car, I tried to get a rise out of Dana. “Mitch’s Deluxe Travel is at your service Ma’am.”

“It sure is my darling,” she replied with a loving smile.

After filling the tank at the gas station, we drove off.

The rest of the trip was uneventful and a little under two and half-hours of driving—and just before three o’clock—we were at our destination.

* * * * *