It’s always either too hot or too cold in the ferry terminal. There is never a variance in the people here; there are always too many.
I try not to listen to their desultory travel talk. And I try not to wonder why it is that all tourists seem to never have ever been out of the house before.
I commute to work Tuesday through Saturday by ferry here to Seattle. Although Saturday is always my objective, it is also tourism day.
Why are these young tourist couples having so many children? They don’t manage the little bastards they have, why make more?
It took from the dawn of history on until my mother’s birth in 1959 for their to be three billion persons alive at the same time. In less than sixty years the population has increased 133 percent. Can’t blame Mom, she only had four. She likes to say one of us wasn’t planned. Never says which one. You’d think you’d get over that sort of thing…but she always looks at me when she says it.
Anyway, the ferry is pulling in, and the little shutheads are running amok.
I wonder if any of their mothers say the stuff mine says