This is the last GPS story you'll get out of me

The 12:22 to Venice (Mestre)

   According to GPS, when my train pulled into Mestre, the mainland suburb north of Venice, my hotel was only about five hundred meters (or five football fields, as Americans are required to convert from metric) from the train station. In other words, taking a taxi wasn't an option. It was too short a distance for a cabbie to make any money, and how would it look to even ask for a taxi for that distance. Wassamatta fuh you? You a too lazy to walk a five a football fields?

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