When we were making our way across Italy 3 years ago, Nick convinced me to take the night train from Venice to Rome. “Lodging and travel in one,” he said. “The train rocks you to sleep,” he said. What really happened was a cabin the size of a trunk packed with 4: Nick and I, a snoring Indian man and a fat Italian teenager violently shaking in unison on the darkest Italian night. When the train wasn’t screeching to a halt every hour, the Italian was hollering at the Indian to stop snoring. The “Treno Notte Comfort” (translated ‘night comfort’) really stands for NOT comfort. We awoke from the nightmare with bloodshot eyes and desperately tired.
I should’ve learned.
“Lodging and travel in one,” he said. “The ferry rocks you to sleep,” he said. What really happened on the night ferry to Croatia was a musty cabin on the lowest deck of a time warp ship to the 70s. In the event of an emergency, it was good to know that we had to travel from deck 2 to deck 8 for life jackets (which really means “have fun dying below suckas!”) We contemplated making out on the kissing booth, but it was too creepy so we quelled the tears with comedy. A walk into the yellow lounge where a lone man behind a keyboard played his songs while strange Italians bopped up and down to the music while smoking. Smoking. Yes, yes, there was a lot of smoking. And a lot of cigarettes.