A TRIP TO NOWHERE
I spent a long evening (and a part of the night) bar hopping with friends. We have not seen each other in a long time. Our conversation would have been boring for anyone outside of the group: what happened to so and so; who married our class beauty Cindy and how is she coping with being an alcoholic; how many of our professors were still alive. Stuff like that, you know.
It was great. We ate shrimp, oysters and washed it down with beer and whiskey. No, no one was drunk; it wasn’t that kind of an evening.
And then, we had to part. Who knows for how long; maybe like last time, five, ten or more years. Who’ll be alive then? What will they be up to?
I drove back from the last place which was open late enough to have us. It was early morning by then, not many cars, wet streets. The downtown buildings were erect, silent and forlorn. Almost as if standing guard for something that didn’t exist anymore. More like that it wasn’t relevant. Sitting in my car, in an almost empty ferry terminal, enveloped in fog, my thoughts wondered on many issues.
A security guard in a neon vest informed me that the boat was late, and the run may even be cancelled. Something about not having enough passengers to justify a run. Or, maybe, it was that the ferry workers were striking. You know, the usual: we want more money to do less work. I was not invested in any of it. It didn’t matter to me.
I could hardly discern any lights in the harbor. The car radio was on, some really good blues. It described the mood and the reason, or the lack thereof, for our existence. To the effect of “I want to die but not right now.”
The fog was getting thicker.
At one point, I saw some faint lights come through, white and red, ever so slowly, crawling on the water and sneaking to the shore. Lazily, majestically came the ferry out of the fog like some sea monster which could overpower everything. But a good kind of monster. Something which meant well.
The ferry docked very cautiously. It finally stopped bobbing in the water a bit and disgorged a few cars. People who came from who knows where and going to who knows where. Their headlights were overpowered by the fog and uncertain. Dreamlike and sleepy.
After a few tenuous minutes the ferry, via its agents and messengers in neon vests, invited me to come on board. Take a trip, however short and be warm and safe, it seemed to imply.
I accepted its invitation and our journey to the other side, where our island is, started. Also cautiously and uncertainly. Away from the past lives of my university friends; away from Cindy and her problems; away from the grit and dirt of the city.
We made it across in the usual thirty-five minutes. Then, it was time to go home. It, as always, was pleasant, accepting and safe. It reminded me that I made it, that I am happy and needn’t worry about what tomorrow may bring. I mean, I can’t influence it anyway.
As I was falling asleep next to a warm body in my bed, I heard the ferry horn. It was leaving our island to return in an hour or so and bring another wayward soul home.
by Mike Djordjevich
Address :
321 High School Road #303
Bainbridge Island
WA 98110
USA
Telephone : +1 661 645 5572
Email : mike@mdj-cpa.com
Website : http://www.mdj-cpa.com