Dump & Load

She was mugged in Zanzibar once, you know. She's a fascinating person.
I am wearing my 'Fuck Lineups' shirt. I picked an apt day for it, so I would discover.
We pass through the booth area. I am directed (by 'hit me first') into a spot. Marie hits the bathroom.
I buy our ticket. I am charged for one adult and one car. I am confused. They had seen me pass by with a missus some moments before. We had caused the stir of having insufficient funds.
"What are d'ey at down d'ere?
"Friggin' hippies don't have enough money to get on da boat."
And yet I'm charged for myself. Nothing ever came of it, but at the time I am confident we will be detained while trying to board.
A man glances my shirt as I pay.
"I'd like to have that shirt. Diane? See his shirt?"
I turn to face Diane.
"Oh yes," Diane says, "We all could've used that shirt this morning."
Cause the boat had been broke down. For hours. And the other was used for a medical emergency. People were kept from their jobs and errands for the better part of the morning.
This is the day we choose to embark on Bell Island. For fun.
We park. It is the first time I have been directed onto a boat while I am the driver. I mention this to Marie.
I notice a sticker in the back windshield of a nearby vehicle. There is a crest. There is an anogram.
I say: "Now, what do you suppose S.P.E.B.S.Q.S.A. stands for?"
Marie does not know. I promise I will look it up for her.

Who would have thought there would be enough people in the 'Society for the Preservation and Encouragement of Barber Shop Quartet Singing in America' to warrant a sticker?

Marie and I go upstairs. We are instantly charmed by a Pepsi machine that easily pre-dates me.
I hug it. She takes a picture. Our camera is now out of batteries.
We hit the deck to get some air. We both discuss whether or not we are the family 'accident'.
It is far more likely that she is, though we come to no concrete conclusions.
I act as though the wind isn't bothering me.

It is dark by the time we actually, physically get on the surface of Bell Island. The last boat across is at 10:30.
I am certain we are going to miss it, we will be forced to spend the night in Bell Island, and we will discover our deep love for one another.
I am excited by the prospect.
No, seriously. I am very scared that we will miss it.
We go to Dick's to get fish and chips. They are renouned for their fish and chips. We have been advised to experience the fish and chips by friends and strangers alike.
On the boat Marie and I discuss Domino's pizza in her hometown (not the chain of Dominos...a different Dominos), and how they are renouned for their pizza simply because they are the only game in town. We discuss whether or not Dick's will be the Bell Island equivelant of Dominos.
I am unimpressed with the fish and chips. But it is the first thing that I have eaten for the greater part of the day.
Marie pays for it.

We prepare to play hangman while we wait. I have not played this game in years.
We cannot remember the setup for the scaffolding. Or the noose. Or the little doomed man.
Marie: "You've gotta draw the staff, then you get the beam, and then the rope. Do you see what I'm articulating? Oh! Our food's here!"
She is this charming the entire week.

We decide to explore.
Bell Island has no street lights.