Poignant Boat Thoughts

Posted by Manda(rific) on August 17, 2010 in Island Life, Ramble | 5 comments

I have sat down several times today to write out a perfect blog post that is both insightful and poignant with just the right dose of sarcastic wit, but there are no words for how the past few days have gone, poignant or otherwise, that could be used to describe my life at this point in time. I can, however, spout novels on my absolute adoration for the North Carolina Ferry System and it’s positively marvelous impact on my daily life.

Yesterday was a sort of test drive for the trip I’ll be taking next week – and I have to say, I  am not going to miss boat travel. No sir-ee, I will miss boat travel like I miss having to be a perky barista when someone rolled through the drive-thru at Starbucks at Early O’Clock and I was unfortunate enough to be stuck on the headset. Being: Not at all.

The problem with boat travel is that by simply agreeing to boat travel you are setting yourself back a hundred years.  Maybe more than that. A few weeks ago I found myself crammed up on an observation deck with a handful of tourists and thought to myself this is what the pilgrims felt like. If someone wanted to torture information out of me, heads up – this is the way to go. Let’s just shove Manda in an enclosed area with two dozen sweaty strangers that smell intensely of SPF 75  and force her to listen to them chatter away about the science of seagulls and other useless “Beach Trivia.¹”

At this point I should probably describe what the situation is like if you are fortunate enough to have never had an encounter with the ferry system. A typical ferry ride goes something like this:

1. Wake up at the crack of dawn. Argue with those nearest you. Arrive at ferry dock entirely too early so tourists don’t fill it up.

2. Enjoy the pleasant scenery while the person in front of you, who has mysteriously vacated their vehicle mere minutes before boarding, rushes back from the bathroom/gift shop/narnia when they finally notice oh-wait-the-other-cars-are-moving-and-I’m-not.

3. Stare at water for several hours. Watch tourists OOH and AHH at the WATER. If this is a departing trip (which it usually is) you begin to consider how they got to the island in the first place because this is CLEARLY THE FIRST TIME THEY HAVE BEEN ON THE WATER. IN A BOAT. EXCITING. OH MAN. and pray to god they don’t start feeding the seagulls.

3b. Start swearing as some idiot’s kid starts feeding the seagulls.

3c. Hastily close the sunroof in your Celica before one of the sky rats can aim a wad of disgusting at your skull (becuase, of course, it wouldn’t be on a tourist, that would be too convienient.)

5. Enjoy the nearby scenery while the person in front of you, who has mysteriously abandoned their vehicle mere minutes from docking, hastily rushes back from the bathroom/observation deck/mordor after noticing oh-look-we’re-here-i-didn’t-see-that-massive-land-mass-approaching-for-the-past-45-minutes.

6.  Escape with your life. Possibly.

And as if this entire adventure was not enough at five AM yesterday morning, I got to return by one of the smaller boats out of Hatteras instead of the larger boat. Which meant that instead of being there way early, I got to fight traffic for four hours before I made it there. At the time of day I was arriving, those boats only left every-hour-on-the-hour and so you had to be extremely quick and agile and commit every possible moving violation in the NCDOT Driver’s Handbook to actually make it on time, despite you leaving the gas station with precisely the right amount of time to be early.

I will spare you the terrible, horrible details, but let’s just say I sent this text to someone at some point:

I swear to God if this blue car is parked next to me when I get to the dock I WILL SLASH TIRES. AND THROATS.

Fortunately for them, they turned somewhere. I really was afraid of how that would have turned out. I may have gone over the speed limit a few times. And cut some people off. And maybe run a red light. But I really had to make that boat.

I’m sure the north will have it’s own travel woes, but if I never have to have this Warcraft-like molasses-slow boat experience ever again after my departing voyage on Tuesday, I will probably live a better, longer, less violent life.

I hate boats.

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1. Including, but not limited to, completely non-factual pirate facts, the various names of different fish from around the world that are not found remotely close to our nearby bodies of water, “Back In My Day…” stories, and explanations of how the wind makes the sand grow and other useless complete lies that they read on the internet or in a children’s book back in West-Virginia-Or-Wherever-They-Are-From.