The Mowdog On The Road...: DUBROVNIK: IMAGES OF THE CITY AND ALSO THE ILLS OF TRAVELLING...

Friday, 13 May 2016

DUBROVNIK: IMAGES OF THE CITY AND ALSO THE ILLS OF TRAVELLING...

TRAVELLING TO DUBROVNIK…

Tuesday morning 3am and in the darkness I drove to Birmingham airport, following the signs for Car Park 4. A left turn appeared, a barrier too, which opened for me as expected, for my registration plate was supposed to have been recognised, as I had pre-paid. I drove through but there didn’t appear to be a parking ticket dispenser anywhere nearby. I hesitated but simply assumed that the recognition had been enough. Wrong. Puzzled, I drove on but it seemed that most of the parking spaces were allocated to hire vehicles although I reversed into one which wasn’t, hesitated again, returned to the barrier just to make sure that I hadn’t missed a ticket machine and, satisfied that I hadn’t, I re-parked. I hauled a heavy suitcase out of the car-park, which was when a few more people were seen approaching from further along the road and then it clicked, for markings on that road to the correct car-park were then spotted and it was painfully clear that I had parked in the wrong place. The darkness and poor signing had trapped me.

There was a £50 fee for releasing vehicles from the pound, but I rushed back to my car anxiously and somehow edged two wheels onto a narrow pavement between the barrier and a hut, just about squeezing through, before speeding to the correct parking lot. My number plate was photographed, I collected a ticket and parked correctly.

Dumb? Me? Nah…

Inside the airport, I removed my jacket, my watch and my belt, asked about my neck chains, which were considered fine by an airport attendant and I shoved the aforementioned items, along with my iPhone into the tray provided. I even explained that there was a hair dryer in my back-pack, in case it was deemed an automatic firearm by the X-Ray machine and then strolled confidently through the frame. I was therefore horrified when the alarm sounded. I could not believe it. I had coolly done all the right things, others were being instructed to remove things from their torsos but I had done it all… However, I was told to remove my shoes and I sailed through this time, although I was then ushered to a booth, whereby I was told to stand with my hands up, as if I was going to be beamed up like Scotty and my torso was thus zapped by investigative electronics.

I belted my trousers, fastened my watch but was still confused as to how on earth I could have set off the arms but then I noticed the soles of my shoes, which I’d only worn once before and there was a row of metal studs on each. Unbelievably, I hadn’t known this…

Dumb? Me? Nah…

And so it came to pass that a Hotel Villa Argentina Mercedes drove me to Dubrovnik’s compact but currently being extended airport, determined not to set off any security alarms. My studded shoes, having been used as tap-shoes to accompany a pianist at Cafe Festival on the limestone street ‘stage’ of the Stradun earlier in the week, albeit from a seated position, were safely in my back-pack. My belt, watch and jacket were dropped confidently into my tray, I strode confidently into the frame and…I set off the alarms again… Aaaaarrrrrgggghhhh…

I was incredulous. My badger hand-puppet The Bodging had successfully negotiated the system but not me… It appeared however that I had been randomly chosen to be tested for explosives, so that my hands and my left hip were swabbed and electronically checked. No bullets, gunpowder, arrowheads, or even slingshot stones with hidden iron seams were found and I was allowed to return to my belt, watch, studded tap-shoes in my back-pack, trainers and jacket, to continue on my journey back to the UK, where of course when I inserted my parking ticket into the machine to exit Birmingham airport, it appeared that I owed more than £137…

Aaaaaarrrrgggghhhh…