I said goodbye to my pocket pal Jullion and he was on his way to the airport at 5:30 am. I followed a little later, and was at the airport to pick up my new clients for their arrival at 9:30 am. It's six people from the New Orleans; three couples. One of them had requested in their dossier to have a car drive them from the airport stating she was afraid of a taxi boat through the lagoon. I definitely need to feel this person out on their comfort level. A boat of some kind will need to be taken at some point, unless they planned on walking 100% of the time, and considering they had requested a day of touring the outlaying islands of Murano, Burano and Torcello I have to figure out what the issue is. I will presume for the time-being that they didn't want to get off a plane and head straight into a small boat for the 30 minute jaunt across the waters. Who knows? As for now, we're taking two land-cabs to get us to Piazzale Roma. I asked which one them had the aversion to water and got into their taxi so we could discuss a gameplan.
It turns out she is a bad flyer and knew she would be taking anti-anxiety and anti-nausea meds for the flight, and didn't want to get into a boat directly after. So I was kind of correct in my assumption. They had obviously been drinking on the plane as long as possible, you could still smell it. That or they were dousing themselves with it as a cologne. I was getting morning breath & booze fumes. Yay.
We arrived at Piazzale Roma and I presented them all with vaporetto passes, as they were all okay with the public transit idea. The bad flyer had taken a look at the large vap boats and declared she would be okay, which was a relief to me. I had arranged for a “trasbaggagli” company to meet us and transport their baggage at the apartment they had rented, so they wouldn't be lugging it on the vap and taking up space like all the tourists usually do – eight bags makes a big footprint on the deck of an already crowded waterbus. They are renting a luxury penthouse palazzo apartment near Ca'Rezzonico, which is the same stop I walk from when taking the Grand Canal line. They are about five minutes away from my house and only one bridge between us. I measure walking distances in terms of how many bridges over here.
The agent for the rental service met us at their place, which is oh-my-goodness-gorgeous. I have always wanted to see one of these palazzo apartments from the inside. It's in the Palazzo Loredan dell' Ambasciatore, one of the very decorative 15th century buildings facing onto the Grand Canal. This too can be yours for the low price of 4,400 Euros a week and a 1,000 Euro damage/security deposit. Whew.
Here's some history on the palazzo and some photos:
http://viewsonvenice.blogspot.com/
After being shown the amenities of the place, the agent departed and I suggested I would come back for them in an hour so they could unpack and freshen up a bit. It was agreed upon and as I left they were opening the welcome bottles of prosecco and wine, at 10:30 am.
We were scheduled to take a walk through the west side of town and have lunch, then a few hours of break and the late afternoon tour of Piazza San Marco with the Campanile, the Basilica and the Secret Itinerary tour of the Doge's Palace.
Arriving at 11:30, it was plain to see they had clearly been enjoying the wine. And had moved onto the liquor in the bar of the apartment. I decided it was more important to get some food in their stomachs, so while we did walk through the streets in the Dorsoduro and San Polo sestieres, we did not stop off for tours of the Frari church or the Scuola San Rocco since they were already a little too sauced and not capable of using their “inside voices.” We had lunch at Alla Zucca and they polished of the “allotted amount” of two bottles of wine before the main course came, and moved on to stiffer well drinks. I had explained the expectation that the tour included two bottles at meals for the table, and they were fine with creating a separate check for the bar bill they would pay directly. I however wasn't so quick to be happy with the arrangement; just because you agree to pay doesn't mean you're going to be so much fun to deal with the rest of the day and I have a schedule to maintain as part of the contracted itinerary. At this rate of drinking, it was obvious we weren't going to be taking in the sights after lunch that I passed over on the way to fill their stomachs and dry them out a bit.
I got them back to their apartment for an afternoon break. Perhaps a nap would sober them up and get them in gear for actual sightseeing. We had a reservation for 5:00 for the Doge's Palace that we really needed to keep. I would return for them at 3:30. When I did, I was met with groggy, bleary-eyed people, those of them that were not passed out. The drinking had continued after they returned to the flat.
I scrapped the afternoon touring plans and told them I would return at 7pm to take them to dinner. We had a reservation at 8pm at Da Fiore, and I was concerned that to screw it up would be detrimental to the relationship of the restaurant and the tour company.
I'm all for having a good time on vacation, but what is the point of drinking to the point of oblivion that you can't go on the scheduled outings with the private guide you are paying for? I was already tired of these antics, but wanted to give the benefit of the doubt that it was “first day settling in” kinks that would work themselves out.
I called the ticket office line for the Doge's Palace and pushed the reservation for the next day. This is why I have to be able to think on my feet and have contingencies. Instead of going to the mainland tomorrow to visit Padova and Verona, we would do everything we should have done on the first day.
At 7pm I was there to pick them up, but they weren't ready. I decided not to leave and return again, and thought it would be more advantageous to be present and keep an eye on the clock with them. At least they were awake. However some took a longer amount of time than others and we didn't actually get out of the apartment until after 8pm, dashing the reservation. I called and found they had given our table to someone else, apologized and told the owner that we had people who weren't feeling well. He didn't sound angry or miffed, so I think I;'m okay for making reservations in the future, and although inside I was seething I was outwardly pleasant. How would they have noticed anyway? They were all still (or again) crocked.
Ugh
I explained that we had lost our reservation and they said they were okay with going somewhere more casual, for me to pick a place I like to go to – more of a locals' favorite flavor. I took them to the Dona Onesta, which immediately turned into a mistake.
These folks were starting to try my patience in a major way. The drinking comes with loud voices, and poor choices in the topics of conversation in public places and mixed company. They were a group of loud, boorish, ill-behaved people, and I was quite embarrassed to be with them. I just kept apologizing with my eyes to the staff and the owner, and stepped into the kitchen to talk with Safwat at one point. He told me not to worry about it one bit, everything will be fine. No problems, no problems Kristina. When dessert had been served, the check came immediately. Usually there's the push for coffee, after dinner drinks, invitations to linger as long as you'd like – not this time. Here's the check people. We gotta go...
As I bent under the tablecloth to reach my purse under the table, there was a hand cupping my left breast. One of the “gentlemen” had his hand upturned and I guess my chest just fell into it. Yeah, we'll go with that explanation, considering his wife was sitting right next to him and didn't see it happening. I didn't freak out, but I did look him straight in the face so that he knew I wasn't absolutely cool with it. I didn't feel I needed to shriek or start a fuss. He was the most blitzed in the group anyway, who knows if he knew what he was doing? Another thing to note, and discuss later on consultation call to Frank when I got back to my house.
What a horrible day. Frustrating.
And still they wanted to whoop it up. We parted at Campo Santa Margherita, where they wanted to hit a couple of the bars and have more cocktails. I told them I would be back at their place at 9AM – please all be dressed and ready to go because we have a full day to make up. They nodded and said they'd be ready and have a great night, blah blah blah. I'm sure they think I'm a stick in the mud and a dour tight-ass, but I'm just trying to remain professional. I wasn't unpleasant at all, but I'm not being as effusively engaging as I usually am with groups. I disengaged emotionally earlier in the afternoon when they were all too hungover and passed out to go touring.
Take some responsibility for yourselves, you bunch of drunks.
I got home and called Frank, who advised me to document everything in an email to the travel consultant who had set up the tour for them and created their dossier. There is definitely verbiage in the contract about behaving within normal limits while on tour, along with expectations of being able to provide services and itineraries they have agreed to, and barring emergency situations of illness or accident, it is expected that the tour leader should be able to provide the tour agreed to without hindrance.
So I'm going to need to have a “come to Jesus” talk with them on arrival, reiterating what they have already agreed to and letting them know that I will not be deviating from plans for them any longer. Smiles, everyone, smiles, but be firm...
Oh goody.
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