For one thing, the tolls on the bridge went away, and with them the funding for the ferry. Now the ferry limps along, one tiny pedestrian boat from 715am-645pm only, leaving those living on the West Bank without a car a prisoner by the time the evening news is over. No more quick jaunts across for red beans and rice on Mondays. At some point they are going to start charging $2 each way, and maybe increase the hours back to 6am-midnight, but who knows when that will happen. For another, I crashed my bike and broke my elbow and couldn't ride my bike to work for several months.
So, as with all things, alas, the shine wore off the penny a bit, though I kept collecting moments and never wrote them down. Perhaps this will be my final ferry blog-- I have a new job that doesn't allow for a riverboat morning commute and less and less people ride these days, which cramps my viewing pleasure.
But, New Orleans is New Orleans, and like everything else, the ferry finds a way to keep on, as do the people. A few favorite memories since last we spoke:
I rode for about 8 weeks with a labor crew from down south who were replacing rotten pilings on the river. On Fridays they were loud and boisterous, planning the weekend according to how much wiggle room they had with their bills that week. Come Monday morning they would be quiet, heads tilted back, mouths open, trying to catch a few more winks after what I can only assume were raucous weekends. The leader of the group was a loud skinny man who talked loud and clearly thought he was hilarious (and he was), entertaining all of the passengers with his stories. The one that sticks in my head:
(they were talking about living in the city vs. living in the country)
"The only woman I know who lives in the city and doesn't lock her door is my grandma. And she's got the Alzheimer's. You have to be careful with her, though, because if you sneak out to smoke, she'll hear a noise and get scared and come lock the door. Then I'm locked out. So I knock on the door and she comes to the door and yells 'Who you is?' and I say, 'it's me grandma, your grandson'. And then she says, 'My grandson's in jail' so I say 'No, your good grandson'."
Then there is the old man with a giant sousaphone.
And this fellow, who I only saw one day. I don't know if you can see it, but he is in a wheelchair, wearing a hat that says, "I'm walking with Jesus." I know it's a sin to laugh, but still.
Today I saw my pelican friends. And a man dancing and rocking out to "Rocking Around the Clock".
And I felt so happy to be right where I was. Maybe this will be my last ferry blog, but that's ok. It was so fun to sit back and watch the world slide by on that muddy water for a few minutes each day. And you friends responded to my silly stories with a poem, a pelican sculpture and a song, which all moved me. It's a big beautiful world out there, let's keep our eyes up so we can savor it.
