A Long Game of Darts

-It has been a quiet week. After my last night in Venice, Ellia decided to take a short vacation. Mr. Dijon deserted Venice at the same time in favor of a climatic change in Escondido, CA. As for myself, I have spent the week watching rain fall from inside a Slovenian pub on the shores of Lake Bled. Not that I haven’t met some interesting characters.

The first night as I ordered a second pint, a Bishop, a policeman, and a bus load of tourist walked into the pub (have you heard this one before?). Now the Bishop was Slovenian as was the policeman, but the bus load of tourists were from Germany, Switzerland, and Austria, with one couple from Riga on vacation from their jobs in Munich where they worked for a Dutch engineering firm.

The Bishop had lodged a complaint to the policeman against a German-Austrian couple who had commandeered his boat and, an hour earlier, rowed themselves out to the island in the middle of the lake to have a closer look at the church which has stood their since the 9th century.The Bishop had rowed a second boat out to the island and returned with the stolen boat in tow. The German-Austrian couple were now stranded on the island, therefore holding the entire tour group in check until their return.

The Bishop wanted compensation (boats were usually rented by the hour), the tour group wanted to leave regardless, the policeman wanted to sit down to his rapidly cooling dinner of lamb chops and potatoes, and the pub owner simply wanted a peaceful evening in which to recite his favorite passages by Milhai Eminescu. I was content sipping my beer and keeping on the sidelines. Alas, it was not to be.

Before long the bus driver recognized me as an American pretending to be a Canadian.

"You have heard each side. What are your thoughts?" he asked me. Of course most of the argument had been in German, Austrian, and Slovenian but I sidestepped this small manner.

"The couple should donate 200 Tolars apiece to the church for their ‘rental’ of the church’s boat."

The Germans immediately thought this outrageous, the Austrians agreed hoping to settle the situation quickly, the Swiss nodded to no one and nothing in particular, the pub owner rolled his eyes, and the policeman quickly hinted, and not very subtly, that his time was valuable too.

The matter became more complicated when the German-Austrian couple walked through the front door dripping wet. Apparently they swam back and were now demanding an explanation and compensation for the woman’s obviously ruined silk and rayon outfit. At this point I moved to the back room for a quiet game of darts. Hours later the bus left, not because anything had been settled, but due to the fact that the driver had to meet his mistress by midnight and some things just could not wait.

I was watching the last of the tourist climb into the bus around midnight when I felt a small nudge on my shoulder. "I will play you a game of darts. 5 Tolars a point and a glass of brandy, no?"

I turned around to find myself face to face with a woman with striking orange hair. "Sure." I replied, wondering where why sunglasses were.

"Good"; she said with a tight smile, "My name is Layla. I hope you have many Tolar."

the mad innkeeper
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