Saved

I don't know how we would have survived the day without Zagreb Bob.

What a mensch.

To understand why we needed saving, we need to go back two days prior, when our travel agent rang. 

At 1am. Apparently travel agents don't understand complex concepts like "time zones".

I declined to answer, figuring whatever it was could wait until the next day. Just as well, because the news that our flight had been pushed back ten hours would have kept me from sleeping.

Since we figured Zagreb Airport is about as exciting as public toilet in Dubbo (which we later found out waas pretty well spot on), we decided to cancel the Zagreb-Split leg and drive instead. After all Google Maps reckons it's only a three hour drive.

So we're up at 6.00am and say goodbye to our little dog-box of a room at the abba Hotel.*

While waiting for our flight London to Zagreb we find out our second leg wasn't shifted, we were bumped by the lying, two-faced low-life scumbuckets who are Croatian Airways, may they be forever condemned to the holding patterns of hell. 

The in-flight service reinforced our poor perceptions of the airline, from the angry little dog-man who barked at Emma to put her handbag in the overhead lockers, to the tasteless olive fragments in a jar served with equally tasteless breadsticks.

Tip: dont fly Croatian Air. If the only available airline is Croatian Air, drive. Or stay home.You'll thank me.

At least they had the decency not to crash and burn, and we picked up our car for the three-hour drive, got onto the road, and saw the sign saying "Split 399 km".

So we can make it in three hours if we maintain an average speed of 133 kph/83 mph, without breaks. Oh-kayyyyy...

I've been up nine and a half hours, and I'm driving on the wrong side of the road at over 130 kph on unfamiliar roads. Gack.

This is when we spot Zagreb Bob. Some random dude with Zagreb licence plates heading our way. So we plant ourselves a few car lengths behind and use him as a pace car. He probably had no idea we were following him (just as well, as the alternative is wondering why he was being tailed the length of Croatia, which is kind of creepy). He finally turned off about 80 km north of Split, and we made the rest of the way on our own.

By the time we doubled back to the airport we dropped the car off five hours after leaving Zagreb. 

A taxi-ride into Split later and we're outside our apartments, ringing to be let in. For reasons that aren't entirely clear this takes about 15 minutes, but we're eventually let into our room, which looks like a converted prison cell, but is clean and has a bed. 

We're exhausted, but alive.

Thanks, Bob.

* I wasn't a huge fan, but Emma hated it. Detested it. Despised it. Was so wrought with fury and disgust at the overall poor amenities, space deprivation, and general disinterest from the staff. In revenge when we left she stole the soaps. And sponges. And toilet paper.