Finally posting something due to boredom thanks to broken arm. Broken arm means that this is also a very short post, as it takes too long to type with my left hand.
I’d always wanted to cross on the ferry.
I had travelled all over the land on either side of that particular stretch of water, but for some reason, my family seemed to have a thing against going over on the boat. My mother had been very seasick once on the ferry. So we always flew.
But now finally, I would be crossing on the ferry, as a friend had invited me to travel with her. A holiday, without my family and all of their neuroses. Bliss!
We drove to the ferry in the dark, me squashed in the back of the van with my friend and her younger siblings. I can’t wait for the ferry, I thought. I’ll have room to stretch my legs. Better than a car, better than a plane.
The overbridges loomed above the van when we arrived at the ferry terminal. Waiting to get on, the wind picked up and the waves were splashing over the side of the wharf.
An hour later, seated inside the ferry, with the wind howling, waves crashing, boat pitching and the distant thudding of cars moving about in the hold below us, I began to regret accepting my friend’s invitation.