The New York Ferry
by Gail Balentine
As we sat in the New London, Connecticut parking lot and waited to board the ferry to New York, what came to mind was Jonah and the whale. Docked in front of us was a boat with a huge, gaping black hole into which we were to drive our cars. The sounds of the pier - car doors slamming; engines revving; boat horns blaring, train whistles moaning from down the tracks and people moving between cars - distracted me as I tried to recall whether or not Jonah got out of that whale.
Soon it was boarding time and men in orange jackets spread out over the lot to guide us deep into the bottom of the ship at a slow but orderly pace. Once inside, cars were parked so close that people in the outside lane, where we were, could not open their driver’s side door. Drivers had to cross over front seats to exit by way of the passenger door. Knowing the soreness I would have felt from all that bending and twisting, I was very grateful that my daughter was driving. As we ascended the stairs to the upper deck, the loudspeaker clicked on and a disembodied voice explained that passengers were not allowed to stay in their cars during the voyage. I wondered about those unable to get out.
The stairs led us to a large room with benches in the middle, tables and benches on the sides near windows and a coffee shop in the back. All the furniture was bolted to the floor. Sinking had not come to mind until I looked up and saw a prominent sign stating that there were 115 adult life jackets under the seats.
We chose a table beside a window, port side (that’s left in sailor-speak). The ship groaned, creaked and snapped us away from the dock and we were on our way. While the boat gently swayed and the engine propelled us towards Long Island, my daughter read her book, the coffee shop cook flipped burgers, and I engaged in a favorite hobby, people watching.
Passengers ranged in age from infants to Medicare eligible. Adults with children called to or chased after them; adults without children wandered inside and out or sat down to chat, read or eat. One brave teenaged soul lay down across several seats to sleep. I kept one eye on him throughout the crossing, prepared to try to catch him if the boat should rock too much.
After a short while I settled down to write but soon became aware of the conversation going on at the table beside us. Though it started unintentionally, I quickly became engrossed in what the lady with very bright red lipstick, whom I christened Hot Lips, was telling her companion. I succeeded in not staring at her but have to admit to eavesdropping.
She and her husband had spent the past Saturday watching three versions of “Anna Karenina.” They and four couples had met at her house and the schedule went like this: first, a hearty country breakfast, including Bloody Marys. Next, they viewed two versions of the movie followed by a light lunch of homemade soup, crunchy bread and desserts, during which time they could talk about any subject but the movie. A brisk walk prepared them for the third, and final viewing, and then a lively discussion of the merits of each movie and its stars ensued with the winner awarded their “Best Version” title.
To cap the day, a supper consisting of dishes brought by the guests was served. Since each dish had to be related to the movie, Saturday’s supper consisted of Russian food. When the lady listening to this tale, who thankfully was as fascinated as I, asked what the guests had brought, Hot Lips replied: Salted Herring, Borscht …. I missed the next two items because of several shouting children running past … Russian Vinaigrette Salad, Chicken Kiev, and Russian Honey Cakes.
Hot Lips was just starting to talk about the special clothing she wore for the event when the overhead voice interrupted to say we were approaching Orient Point, Long Island, and asked us to return to our cars and prepare to disembark when the boat stopped.
As I descended the stairs, I noticed her in front of me and thought about striking up a conversation but she quickly disappeared into the crowd and a minute later I saw her and her friend entering their car. My chance was gone.
I sighed but, after we settled into our car, I remembered that one of my favorite movies, The Thomas Crown Affair, had been made at least twice and apples were featured prominently in the latest version. I explained to my daughter about Hot Lips and, as she drove out of the ferry’s dark hold into the light, we laughed and made each other hungry talking about dishes like roast pork with applesauce, Waldorf Salad, potato-apple pancakes, apple muffins, and apple crisp. It was a fun way to end what had turned out to be a most enjoyable trip.
I love Hot Lips and this story!
ReplyDeleteI love ferry rides as long as they are not on rough open water. Your terrific story made me want to book a ferry soon to a new destination with interesting people aboard!
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