We arrived in Venice at high tide, in the midst of torrential rain, and on a day when the city was experiencing the highest water levels since 1966. “Acqua Alta” (high water) is what the locals call it. And they probably use some profanity, too, because the disruption of the water levels, plus the confused and stressed out tourists, made for a really crappy day for all.

Our first indication of the mess in store for us was when we arrived at the Venice train station and noticed at least 40 percent of the people walking around the station in these weird, brightly colored knee-high galoshes.

Louise quickly figured out why: In order to board the water bus we would take from the train station to meet our AirBnB hosts, we would need to wade through calf-deep water. Luckily for us, the train station gift shop had the boots for sale (at 10 Euros a pop), and we were able to don them over our shoes before slogging through the water and boarding the #1 vaparetto toward the Lido.

As requested by Calliope, our AirBnB hostess, I sent her a text when we boarded the water bus to let her know we were on our way.

The vaparetto was crowded, hot and chaotic with tourists just arriving to the city, tourists trying to leave the city, tourists who had gotten stranded in St. Mark’s Square when the water rose to waist-deep levels.

Worst of all, the vaparetto pilots and crew were overwhelmed, exasperated and short-tempered. It wasn’t until we were actually traveling along the Grand Canal in the “packed to the gills” water bus that we realized we were speeding past stops that the #1 should be making.

When I asked the crew member managing the hordes trying to board at one of the stops that we DID make whether or not this was the correct vaparetto to our stop, Arsenale, he yelled at me, “Arsenale CLOSED!”

Well, shit.

When I asked what we should do, he then yelled, “You WALK!”

Double shit.

Mind you, I have not a clue where we are or how far we are from the Arsenale stop.

So we got off the vaparetto (along with at least 200 other frustrated, drenched travelers) at the stop before St. Mark’s Square, and I sent a text to Calliope to ask her what we should do. In the meantime, we huddled in the waiting room of the floating dock, sheltered from the driving rain, and watched other tourists go batshit crazy trying to figure out what the HECK was going on.

There was one guy in particular with a very strong Southern accent (I’m thinking Georgia), who was practically stamping his feet in frustration trying to get someone, anyone, to tell him how to get to the train station.

Another couple, who like us had just arrived in Venice for two nights, learned that their hotel was flooded and closed. They were trying to get back to the train station so they could just head back to Rome.

And then there was the nice British lady from Bath who had come to Venice for a friend’s 60th birthday celebration. Her friends were all waiting for her, but like us, her stop was closed and she had no idea how to get to where a nice, strong gin and tonic awaited her.

And in the midst of all this, I found that somewhere along the way, I lost the lens cap to my compact Nikon SLR.

I finally got a call from Massimo, Calliope’s husband, who called to confirm where we were waiting and told us to hang on, they were on their way. So we waited. And waited.

And we watched as dozens of drenched (and in some cases, barefooted) tourists boarded the incoming vaparettos, fleeing from the high waters of St. Mark’s Plaza.

And all the while, I mourned the loss of my lens cap.

Finally, after about an hour, a tall, well-dressed man entered the floating waiting room, scanned the crowd and approached me. “Susan? I am Massimo.”

It was a miracle! He and Calliope had to wade through water up to Calliope’s waist to get to us. But they found us. And in short order, they hustled us aboard the next vaparetto to head to an open stop.

And then the second miracle happened. As we climbed onto the water bus, I recognized the guy from the original vaparetto who yelled at me, and I laughingly remarked that I hoped he didn’t hold a grudge. The minute I stepped on board, I happened to glance to the right of the doorway into the seating area, and what did I see?

My lens cap! Battered, a bit scraped up, but it was there! I guess it got knocked off in the melee earlier in the day, and someone spotted it.

At that point I knew all would be well.

So after a 10-minute walk through ankle-deep water, with mom gamely hanging onto Calliope with one hand and leaning on her walking stick with the other, we reached the Arsenale stop, turned right to move away from the Grand Canal and back into the quiet alley where our AirBnB was located.

The rest of our stay in Venice was lovely. But really, not much of an anecdote. I’ll share photos and tell a bit about our stay there in the next post.

But as I remarked to the nice British lady, if we had arrived on a beautiful, sunny day, had made it to the Arsenale stop without any issues, and if I hadn’t had to sacrifice a perfectly good pair of shoes when my 10 Euro knee-high galoshes sprang a leak, we would not have much of a tale to tell about our arrival in Venice.

And let’s not forget the miracle of the lens cap.