I don’t take the ferry as much as I’d like. I’d obviously prefer to sail across the open water rather than flush myself through the subterranean bowels of the Port Authority Trans-Hudson. But the ferry is not particularly convenient to my office location, whereas the PATH puts me a block away. Nevertheless, I like to keep a ticket for the ferry in my wallet on the off chance the trains go down or some maniacal zealot decides to fly a plane into an office building, as it’s nice to have another way off the island.
On my way to work the other day, I noticed a lot of helicopter activity in the harbor and crowds gathered along the waterfront. In this day and age, that’s normally a cause for concern. However, on this occasion, the commotion was the arrival of the USS New York, a state-of-the-art San Antonio-class LPD (Landing Platform Dock) warship. Her keel contains 7.5 tons of steel recovered from the World Trade Center and she had stopped in the Hudson off lower Manhattan to pay respects to the buildings and lives that were lost on that astonishingly terrible day over eight years ago.
It was pretty impressive from my vantage point in Hoboken, but I imagined it would be even more so if I took the ferry over to Pier 11, zipping right alongside the USS New York. This would certainly put me out of my way, but it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. So I fished out my old ferry ticket, my lifeline in case of emergency, and went to board the boat.
It was rush hour, and the line was pretty long, both on the slip and at the ticket counter – but I didn’t have to worry because I already HAD my ticket. When the New York Waterway crew began to board passengers, the ship filled up in no time and I grew concerned that I wouldn’t make this trip. But luckily I got to the bow, handed my ticket over and went to board the vessel…
Suddenly a shoulder came in from my left, blocking my passage. “Hey buddy,” he said, as though I was trying to smuggle enriched uranium through customs. “Your ticket is expired.”
“Whaaaaat,” I muttered incredulously as I rolled my eyes. It seems the New York Waterway has some arbitrary expiration date on their tickets rendering them invalid, despite the fact that they were bought and paid for.
“So this is useless,” I asked with an obvious tone of annoyance.
“You can go ask them at the ticket counter,” he said, as he slammed the gate shut and hopped on the boat. Rather than wait in a line I had already waited in months ago to purchase that ticket, I just threw it on the ground and slunk back to the PATH train for my miserable ho-hum commute.
It seems even when planning for the extraordinary, you still run the risk of getting bogged down in everyday bureaucracy. At least I learned my lesson on a good day…
Christopher M. Halleron, freelance writer/retired bartender, writes a biweekly humor column for The Midweek Reporter. Like a well-made Manhattan, he’s stirred but never shaken. Feel free to drop him a line at chris@chrishalleron.com or follow him at http://twitter.com/HALLERON.