Didn’t think we would make the ferry.
Online, we couldn’t quite make sense of the schedule.
We rush to the ticket booth. Grab some of the last tickets.
Aboard, passengers are passed out in every nook. Under staircases. Under tables. All chairs are taken.
We will arrive by sunrise.
Inside reeks of smoke. We secure a spot on the top deck. I can’t keep my eyes open.
Crawling into my sleeping bag, I drift off. The hours that follow are dreamlike.
Restless sleep. Horns now. Wind rips across the deck. Islands are passed.
Sean meanders about. It all seems to go by in moments. Most have relegated below deck. Some patrons rent rooms. Some, private lounges.
The horizon glows. Party islands. Islands with airports. We breeze past. No stops are made.
Announcements in four languages are made. Repeated. Still misunderstood.
“We are pulling in soon”
“You think?”
“People inside are starting to get their stuff together”
I drift in and out. Light breaks through. Pink skies. Clouded horizon. Forest fires surround the city, apparently.
Dogs bark. Some still sleep on benches. I stammer around for a bathroom.
Men shave. Some dress well. Others wear pajamas.
This place confuses me. Some passengers are regulars. Some have never been on a boat. We haven’t learned the best way to do things yet.
The guy who hung his hammock across the top deck is gone. I wonder if he got any sleep.
We pack our bags tight. Roll out into the city.
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