Flotsam & Jetsam: Experienced Ferry Commuters See It All

— a semi-regular humor column by Maurice Austin —

Among the joys afforded San Juan Islands ferry commuters in the dark months of July and August, those occurring among the Anacortes ferry terminal’s multiples holding lanes provide entertainment on par with island roads themselves.

That guy with the absurdly large diesel pickup, for example, who used to let his engine idle because it was too cold and running the heater beats donning a sweater, is now letting his engine idle because it’s too hot and running the AC beats sweating it out like the rest of us. One day I’m going to buy an absurdly large diesel pickup and turn it on and never turn it off, just to prove some sort of point, I’m not sure what, but something, because why not and reasons. I mean, it’s a diesel, so there.

On a good day in Anacortes, the terminal employee in charge of the microphone connected to the PA system is a veteran with at least a few years’ experience and so knows precisely when to announce that you—yes, you—need to get back to your vehicle and get ready to board, without droning on and repeating that you—yes, you—need to get back to your vehicle and get ready to board thirteen times, though it doesn’t matter how many times the announcement is made, because in the dark months of July and August, there will always be that one vehicle that isn’t ready, and here we are, waiting on you sir or ma’am, while somebody knocks on your window to wake you up, or you get your dogs loaded, or you’re on the other side of the terminal, or you thought what -— we were going to spend the night here?

And you know, usually it’s no big deal. So what if we’re a bit clunky down the lanes in our loading procedures? It all gets clunkier once we’re onboard, anyway, and the family spills out of the minivan all over the lanes that are still being loaded and the dogs are let out as if into active traffic and you—yes, you—wander down the aisle that a harried ferry employee is trying to load. Good times!

If the recent implementation of the ferry reservation system has done anything, it has certainly reduced wait-times at the Anacortes terminal—for those with reservations, of course. One time, before the reservation system was in place, and faced with hours in place, and a really crummy novel, I observed a young man walk past my bow, and pause at the right front quarter-panel of the vehicle in the next lane, and suddenly buckle over, and puke on the pavement, and then straighten a bit, and puke some more, and then straighten a bit more, and then heave over and out with it all onto the pavement there.

I mean, gross. Like a quesadilla with shrimp didn’t agree with him. He stumbled off toward the restrooms.

I looked back at the novel, but caught, out of the corner of my eye, the passenger window of the vehicle next to me, in the next lane, roll down, and out snaked a cellphone attached to a hand and an arm, which pointed said cellphone at said vomit and—finger-poke—clicked a shot. Two. And the arm and the hand retracted, and the window went up. And then a crow came, and three seagulls, and the shrimp quesadilla seemed fine to them, thanks much, and they set upon it greedily, and again the window came down, and out snaked the cellphone attached to a hand attached to an arm, which pointed and clicked, capturing the wildlife in their natural state, certainly—or if not, certainly recording a crow and some seagulls reclaiming a partially-digested shrimp quesadilla, a shot which belongs in some kind of memory book, after all, in an album upon a digital shelf entitled “Anacortes Ferry Terminal” next to shots of cormorants pooping on pilings, and, on the return trip in the album labeled “Orcas Ferry Terminal”, rabbits munching placidly despite the yapping of leashed lap-dogs, and yellow-jackets vying for a bite of a “$1.00 Off” turkey sandwich.

Once underway, two minutes out of port, the purser will come over the mic to say, Would the owner of the silver or white or blue BMW please return to the car deck and secure your car alarm, a message they could just make part of the recorded message, really. Please, would they just notify motorists at the toll booth or announce thirteen times that motion-activated car alarms are triggered by the movement of the boat, the motion of the ocean, already? Not like we’re not ready for it but please sheesh.

But such are the fairly ferry-untrained motorists availing themselves of our humble Horseshoe Highway during these dark months of July and August, so once you get offloaded and on the road, be ready. They will slow to a creep at the sight of sheep, and knowingly hold up traffic at the sight of a deer browsing in a ditch. A window will lower. A cellphone, attached to a hand, attached to an arm, will snake out. Clicks will be made. Take a deep breath. Smile. Wave. There are, after all, two sides to every shrimp quesadilla.

Your culinary mileage may vary…but please do post your terminal illness experiences in the comments below!