The tiny ship was tossed

I’m watching people walk on the ferry we’re taking to Nantucket. The sea is rough and rainy, pitching the boat about in the waves. The walkers fit quite distinctly into two groups. The crew members walk deliberately to their destinations in mostly straight lines, months and years of practice walking on boats evident. One fellow has his hands in his pockets and no zig in his zag at all.

And then there’s the rest of us. The landlubbers. We have vague ideas of where we want to walk to, but little idea of how we’re going to get there with the boat shifting under us. We just set off in a general direction and let our stumbling determine our path; it’s easier than fighting the ocean. The ocean is clearly winning. This one poor woman has been to the bathroom three times in the past 30 minutes.