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My armpits were drenched in sweat. It was that messy combination of 74 degree humidity of a Mykonos summer combined with sheer anxiety after glancing at my ticket for the umpteenth time. Four of us were traveling together: twin sisters Meredith and Rene, and their mom Carla, and I. We were in the midst of a Greek adventure, and today planned to ferry from Mykonos to Santorini. We were scheduled to be on a boat departing at 1:55 pm. Evidently, it was not. “Guys,” I shouted. "Panic! Departure ticket times were changed, for an hour early!” In true Greek island fashion, we had been drinking on Greek freddos in a quaint local café. feasting on crepes and enjoying serenity. We had believed time was on our side. Without question, it was not. Needing to rush to the dock, we hurried back to our rental to pick up our luggage, calling a taxi as we got there. When there was no available taxi to pick us up from our specific location, an unsettling feeling began forming inside of me. Walking up and down the neighborhood to meet our driver, anxiety was overwhelming. Finally, prayers were answered. I waved my hand and the taxi driver waved back. “Good, I sighed. "We’re right on time.” We'll be reaching the dock on time one hour early. Or so I thought. As we stepped out of the taxi, we were startled by Rene. “Stop!” she yelled, seemingly out of right field. “I left my bag of pastries on that bench we were sitting on!” I glanced at the hoard of tourists, caught up in their own languages, surrounding the ship’s entryway. My heart started pounding at an increasingly rapid rate when Rene screamed to the driver, “Take me back to get my stuff." I said, "NO WAY! We’re not taking a chance! I get out the taxi with my stuff!" Her twin sister followed. Checking my watch, minute by minute passed and that sweat festered ever more pungently as I glanced at my dying iPhone for the sixtieth time. “Rene, get back here! (srsly!!)" my clammy fingers typed. “The ferry is going to leave us!” My heart was thumping so loud, sure everyone around me could hear it. In front of me, I could see a man’s mouth moving, “TICKET! ticket line to your left!" Gazing at the rough waves tumbling angrily, pounding the shores. Rene was on her way, but in the meanwhile Meredith and I being the only two people left to get in, stalling the worker by not moving away from the deck. While yesterday I was quite literally floating on air while flyboarding in the sea, feet planted on the vibrating deck, yet we were rising. In a moment of pure shock, cornered and trapped I realized I was floating on air once again. The deck was indeed being raised while we were on it. My moment of disbelief was just as quickly brought down to reality (quite literally) with nowhere to go. Deck raising too high, scared we would get injured we jump off the deck into the safe ground. The second we got off the platform, the ferry immediately left. Before we could do so much as blink, Meredith finally exploded. It was an explosion of dramatic levels – one that had been boiling since the start of the trip. “It’s all your fault, you’re paying my ticket!!!” she scoffed in a moment of twin drama. Heat pouring off of Meredith’s words, her fingers dug into her fleshy palms, forcefully taking Rene’s missing bag “the reason why we didn’t get on our ferry” and quickly ran, to throw it out into the ocean. Rene, with failed efforts to reach her stuff out of the water, yelled in a moment of hysteria: "You are such a bitch!” Exasperated and anchored in Mykonos, we were forced to buy the next available tickets in hopes to board the less troubled waters to Santorini. We were able to successfully board without issues and we all had let our emotions go with hopes of getting reimbursed. Without a doubt, this was an experience that will forever be a story worth retelling.