Sometimes I wonder if riding the ferry is like standing in an elevator or peeing at a urinal (I'm using this particular example based on heresay, mind you) -- maybe people just don't like to talk on the ferry. Oh, if you say hi and strike up a conversation, most people are happy to chat, but for the most part, the regular biking crowd that I see every morning and afternoon mostly passes their ferry time tapping away on their phones. Now, I am a smart phone geek myself, but I don't allow the phone to come out on the ferry. I suppose I can't fault people for not using the ride as an experiment in observation. (Or maybe one day I will come across a blog with a post about a really annoying talkative chick on the ferry. )
It's their loss. I wonder if anyone saw the pigeon that flew on at Algiers this morning and hitched a ride all the way across the river, walking on the deck and pecking at crumbs. I wonder if anyone noticed how the waves on the water this evening consisted of perfect undulating ripples as if the Mississippi was made of twilight silk. I wonder if anyone else was elated to realize upon seeing the man with a long coat, big black glasses and a pointed red knit cap that they had, in fact, finally found Waldo.
The universal vows of urinal silence may be suspended in San Francisco.
ReplyDeleteThis blog always makes me feel like I too am riding the ferry in New Orleans; great visual imagery.
ReplyDeleteToo bad the other cyclists are not as impressed with the scene; I suppose they have just gotten jaded to the beauty of the commute. Or maybe they have turned inward like a lot of big city dwellers because of too much sensory input.
Thanks for inviting us along on the ride!