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The ferry-ride across the sound is enjoyable. You just kind of list and float along with plenty of time to periodically return to the food counter. And consider it's chowder and hermetically sealed muffins. A side note, seagulls like blueberry muffins. Anyway, the counter was also home to a cauldron of suspicious looking sausage soup. While sausage is like an international guarantee (everything with sausage in it tastes good, right) this stuff was green and yellow like snot. - Daniel
"Waiting. I hate waiting." - Ira
“We were supposed to meet at Zeitgeist for coffee before getting on the ferry. The Portlanders were staying at Aaron’s, who apparently was only just-living after a nasty bout with food poisoning. The morning was slipping away and my wife managed to need me repeatedly for a number of things. Ferry’s don’t wait and now I’m stressed. I should ride to the ferry of course but my wife bribes me with the car if I help with one last thing. We hit every red light from Capitol hill to the water. I start doing math. 30-45 seconds per light X 6 lights = missed ferry. I think about whether it is faster to assemble the bike and ride from the middle of town. None of this is helping my marriage.
As we skid into the tollbooth I jump out and build my bike to the sound of the last call horn. Our car is still shuddering and I’ve already soloed, into a headwind, the four hundred yards of empty parking lots to the boat ramp and the boat. I feel disdain and hate radiating from the mirrored windows on the second deck. I made it.” - Hahn