Ferries on Strike!

And so concludes another tourist season on Shelter Island. Things are slowing down and getting back to normal. The ferry lines have shrunk, the ferry crews are more relaxed and have time to talk to the passengers for a minute. When I see the aggravation they endure through the summer, it amazes me that no homicides occur. I’ve seen off islanders cut to the front of the lines on both the North and South Ferries, coming and going. I’ve seen drivers get out of their cars and argue with the staff. I’ve heard people cursing at them. I’ve seen angry drivers deliberately drive too close to the staff to scare them as they exit the ferry. Overall, people are nice, generally cooperative and patient on the ferry. But there’s always that percentage of impatient, entitled people, who fail to realize the power of the ferry crews. I mean, what if they got sick of it all?

“Bob, did you hear? I was just at Fedi’s. The ferry crews have taken the boats hostage. They nailed a list of demands on the Town Hall door.”
“Holy moley, Joe! What do they want?”
“They want a pay raise, plus combat pay during tourist season.”
“Everybody wants a pay raise...that’s not so extreme.”
“They want toilets on the boats.”
“They don’t have toilets on the boats?”
“Not all of them. Only the newer ones. You never noticed how the staff sometimes run to the offices?”
“I just never knew, Joe. I think that’s a reasonable demand though.”
“They want staff booths that are heated in the winter and air conditioned in the summer.”
”Again, what’s wrong with that?”
“I know, not too bad so far, but then they start walking the edge. The North Ferry wants a jacuzi and the South Ferry wants a wet bar.”
“Why a jacuzi?”
“It takes longer to cross on the North Ferry than the South, so they figure at least one crew member could take a break to relax in the jacuzi on the crossing.”
“Why do the South Ferry guys want a wet bar?”
“Cause they don’t have time to get relaxed in a jacuzi, they have to relax faster, and liquer is quicker. And maybe they’d sell the passenger in the car a beer.”
“Well, that’s a stretch. I don’t know if they’ll get that stuff through.”
“Both crews want microwave ovens on the boats.”
“What? They can’t have a nuker?”
“No, Bob, it interferes with the navigation system.”
“What’s to navigate? You can see the Sag Harbor and Greenport docks from Shelter Island.”
“Hey, don’t hit the messenger. But there’s one demand I do like. They want to have a mini casino in the walk-on passenger areas. Wouldn’t that be great? Play a few hands of poker on the way home. Your wife would never know.”
“Well, all in all, these demands aren’t completely unreasonable, Joe.....”
“Sound better everytime I hear them...”

Greenport Gertie, World Famous Mermaid...

"Long Island Press; By Timothy Bolger on August 22nd, 2011
A 23-year-old man was arrested for drunken boating after he crashed his vessel into a jetty in Greenport Harbor over the weekend, Southold Town Police said.
Herbert Israel was navigating his boat eastbound when the crash occurred with three passengers aboard at 2:41 a.m. Saturday, police said."

Greenport Gertie Strikes Again!
It’s all in the story.....

“Now, Joe, we just gotta get our story right and really sell it to the authorities when they get here.”
“I dunno, Pete. Maybe we should just confess and say we’re tanked.”
“What ? And deny the cops the pleasure of hearing creative excuses and the challenge of punching holes in our story? They live for those challenges. And we’re taxpayers, we gotta make them work for their money.”
“Well, hell, Captain Morgan and I agree. You logic is unpacable, I mean deflatable, ineffible, well, we’ll just say it’s clear.”
“We need a big story, Joe. Man, we are way up on this friggin’ jetty. How about we were swerving to avoid the ferry?”
“Nope, Captain Morgan sez the ferry moves too slow, besides, they don’t run after 1:30 a.m.”
“What about the Greenport mermaid, Joe? They got a little mermaid tied to the dock at the Greenport ferry, maybe we could say that we saw her glow and come to life and flop off the dock....you know....X-Files stuff. And we were trying to catch her so that....so that...”
“So that she’d grant us three wishes. You get wishes with a mermaid right?”
“No, Joe, I think you get wishes with a genie. But hey, it’s our mermaid.....she could be Greenport Gertie, the Wishing Mermaid of ancient fishing lore...get it, fishing lore, fishing lure...it’s one of them double nintndo’s.”
“Captain Morgan says, Yes! He loves him a mermaid. Greenport Gertie it is. But what does she do?”
“She’s a siren. From the story of Ulysseus, or Ossissfuss, you know, that Greek story, the Illiyak and the Odessaurus....you know....and the sirens are beautiful women who scream at sailors so loud they can’t stand it and crash their boats on the reef jus to get away from them screaming banshees.”
“Banshees is Irish, Pete. But the Captain says, she can be a screaming Irish mermaid. You know how all mermaids wear shell for a bra? Gertie has big shamrocks, giant shamrocks.”
”Holy Moly - the police boat is here. Remember, Joe, it was Greenport Gertie.”

“....... and that’s the whole story, Occifer. We’ll swear to it on your mother’s grave.”

“Damn, handcuffs are tight, eh, Joe?”
“We almost had it, Pete. They were buying the story until you blew it.”
“What? What did I say?”
“Everybody knows giant shamrocks don’t grow underwater, Pete. You should’ve stuck with regular shamrocks.”

Greenport Maritime Festival

“I’m exhausted, John, but every piece of brass on the boat is shining. The new boat cushions look terrific and the new canvas will be here in time for the Maritime Celebration on the 25th. I love having a classic boat, but geez, the work....what are you wearing? I threw that out in Spring.”
“No, you TRIED to throw it out in Spring, Louise.”
“You pulled that out of the burn barrel! John, please.... you’ve had that shirt since you were 22. You’re 47 now, it pulls everywhere and it’s too short. Your hairy stomach shows.”
“It fits fine! It’s my lucky shirt. I caught my prize bass in this shirt. Remember that competition?”
“No, John, don’t start the bass competition story, please, I have to have time to organize Thanksgiving next month.”
“You had no right to throw out my lucky shirt, or my lucky shorts.”
“No - John- you didn’t fish out those shorts too! You can’t wear those OP short shorts hunny, I mean you really can’t.”
“I can still button them. I just skip the top button and hide it with my shirt.”
“No, my love, you can not wear those short shorts in public anymore, ever.”
“Worried about me? I’m a happily married man, I wouldn’t flirt. You don’t have to worry about somebody making a play for me in these shorts.”
“That’s truer than you know, but not for the reasons you think. John, have you ever seen the pictures of the ballroom in St. Patricks’s Cathedral in New York?”
“Can’t say I have - wait a minute.... there’s no ballroom in St Patrick’s Cathedral!”
“No dear, there isn’t. And that’s what your short shorts have in common with the Cathedral.”
“That’s low, Louise.”
“Many things are these days, John.”
“That bad? Really?”
“Remember when your Uncle George visited? Remember those green polyester shorts he loved because they were comfortable? Aunt Betty couldn’t get rid of them no matter what she did.”
“I remember, he looked like somebody put pants on a goat. Please don’t tell me I look that bad in my shorts.”
“Well, Uncle George’s shorts were at least Bermuda length, so there was no chance of anything escaping. The OP shorts are way too short. I get scarred every time you put them on.”
“I love these shorts. I’ve had them so long. It’s like giving up a friend.”
“We can frame them.”
“No, that’s stupid. We’ll bury them at sea during the festival. It’s the only proper way to dispose of boat shorts that have served so long.”
“And the shirt.”
“Shirt stays. Be happy I’m letting go of my lucky competition shorts.”
“Alright, one out of two ain’t bad. Give them to me, I’ll throw them in the duffel. John, let go of the shorts, c’mon, give them to me now. You look silly clutching them to your chest like I’m taking away a toy.”
“Please, Louise, we just need a moment.”
“Okay. Well, when you’re ready, here’s some new dockers. You’ll look nice in these for the festival.”
“They’re the wrong size. Louise. The waist says 42, I’m 36 waist. My OP’s are 36.”
“They’re made in Malaysia. The waist is 42 centimeters, it’s 36 inches in American sizes.”
“I thought so. I mean, 42 is just five points below my age.”
“And five points above your I.Q..”
“Huh?”
“I said Hy Que. They were made in Hy Que, Malaysia.”
“Yeah, well, they better get their sizes right if they want to sell over here.”