Rab to Rijeka – Reversal of Fortune
There was a huge push to board the catamaran from Rab to Rijeka, unable to bear it I sat back and was last to board. The cabin reminded me of a wide airplane. Three aisles separating four colums of seats, each column three seats wide, thirty rows of seats. About a third of the way back from the bow in the middle was a nice center console bar with plasma tv. The whole cabin was sealed off for the trip , with no access outside due to the speed of the boat. Huge panes of glass on either side gave a great view outside, except all we could see was rain and wind pelting the glass harder and harder. There didn’t appear to be any open seats left, no problem I thought, I would stand at the rear by the lavatories until we got going, and then work my way to the bar once it opened and hang out there for the remainder of the quick one hour and forty five minute journey. Soon we were off.
“The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed” As soon as we hit open seas, it was a roller coaster. Huge waves, whitecaps spraying against the windows, and serious pitching in all directions. I felt reassured by the fact that the boat was so wide, so wasn’t too concerned. A girl in the last row sitting in front of me grabbed her sick bag and started breathing into it, her friend madly trying to fan air on her face to stop her from vomiting. Interesting, these boats have sick bags. Moments later she was heaving into her bag. It wasn’t long before hordes of people began descending on me, I realized I was positioned in the worst possible place – by the lavatories. I was forced to work my way through a growing crowd of people covered in cold sweat, hands over mouths, trying to hold back the inevitable, and proceeded forward to the bar. It was no easy task just moving, this boat was rocking like nothing I had ever experienced on the ocean, it was pretty amazing. It also reinforced my belief that I do not get sea sick, as I felt fine, taken aback but also amused by the spectacle.
The bartender insisted he could not serve drinks in the current conditions, however a few Kunas sent his way produced a nice Vodka OJ. Other people came to the bar pleading for vomit bags, and shortly they were all gone. The barman was handing out plastic grocery bags, or any type of empty receptacle he could find for somebody to vomit in. Soon there was nothing left, and people were forced to navigate to the rear, flopping around the aisle as the boat violently shifted directions. Thankfully the cabin had a fantastic ventilation system, I could hear it buzzing the entire time, and I hardly smelled the stomach contents of the ill passengers. I started thinking about the July 4th Coney Island hot dog eating contest and the classicly worded rule: “Immediate disqualification for reversal of fortune.” I have never seen so much reversal of fortune in my life.
Looking up at the tv, an episode of Columbo came on with Ricardo Montalbon guest starring as a murdering matador. English with Croatian subtitles, perfect. I settled in with a few more screwdrivers, along with a couple of other guys that were unbothered by the conditions, and tried not to stare at the morbid scene around us. Pretty soon Ricardo had been outwitted and arrested by the bumbling Peter Falk, and we were in Rijeka. There was a mad push to exit the boat, in no hurry I was last off.
Down the street from the ferry port I hopped a train, and two and a half hours later I was in Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia.