What to do in a ferry line
(and where it may lead)
Standng in line at the Steamship Authority ferry terminal, I had a powerful urge to do what I normally do: put in my air pods and listen to an audiobook .
But I had promised myself to stay in the actual moment this day, rather than live in my head, where I mostly reside, so I left my smartphone in my pocket and just paid attention.
It was sunny—no surprise, because the weather Is always its most beautiful whenever you have to leave the island. I haven’t figured out why.
I noticed that the sea on this north side of the island was flat and calm, a contrast to the wind-whipped waves of South Beach the day before. The sky was a clear light blue and the clouds just wisps. Seagulls squawked in the distance. The air smelled clean and barely salty—no hint of sweat or sunblock lotion yet.
Influenced by one of my favorite paintings, by Vineyard artist, Bob Fitzgerald, I turned my attention to the people in line.
The expressions of those of us waiting to leave the island were serious and, in some cases, grim. Maybe because there is no option of sitting, like at an airport gate, we wait less patiently as all the passengers debark. Their mood, I noticed, was lively. Teenagers, in too-short shorts for the coolish weather; giggled their way by. Two women in their late twenties came to a dead stop in the otherwise moving line to snap a selfie—and no one stuck behind them even complained. A boy of about eleven proudly carried a large box with the Crumbl logo—cookies for their host, I guessed.
Once aboard the ferry, I commandeered a table, whipped out my laptop and typed up my observations. I could’ve spent the 45-minute trip to the mainland writing about the selfie ladies, or the difference of mood in the lines of people arriving and leaving the island. Or about the young fathers pushing umbrella strollers with young children, none of whom cried.
But because it really does strike me that the weather is at its most beautiful whenever I have to leave the island, I tried to figure out why it taunts me. This led to me listing everything I loved and missed upon departure.
Top of list: A three-mile walk I routinely take from my house to the Edgartown Great Pond. This prompted a poem not about the ferry, or its passenger line, but about the many Great Pond walks I’ve taken with my daughter on the other side of the island.
I found myself reiterating snippets of conversations from her innocent youth, through her troubled teens, to her happy life today. It became a poignant poem about the stress of that youth and her academic life, recovery from an eating disorder—and how the tides refill the cut made on the Great Pond barrier beach each year.
A far cry from the ferry line, but it’s the nature of the creative brain to wander from the original spark. The spark is as important as the new directions the embers take. So, while I am the last person in the world with the right to say this, say it I will: Try using your ferry—or bus ride or flight time—mindfully, You never know where it might lead.
How lucky we are to have the opportunity to return to the Vineyard, after a trip to America.
I often find myself looking around waiting in line, at an airport, or for an appointment and noticing that every single person around me had their nose in their phone or earbuds in, zombie-like. (I’m guilty too, of course, sometimes.) This reminded me of my (forgotten) New Year’s resolution to talk to strangers, especially when traveling- my friend Laura’s idea, who gets in the most fascinating conversations with people. Not in an obnoxious, nosy or talk-about-yourself way, but open, respectful, and curious. Another thought for those lines!