Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Flirting: Ferry of love & exploding heads

Three times a month I take the 46 year old ferry, M. V. Coho from Victoria, BC to Port Angeles, WA (so many American temptations: manga, chocolate, shotgun weddings).

When Linda and I took the Saturday ferry we found not just any ferry; but the ferry of love. As soon as we cleared harbor people approached each other; a singles mingle at 12 knots. On our left lounged two playstation-loving, sports-trivia expert slackers complete with baseball caps: attraction potential zero. Yet within 10 minutes an Asian model with purple lipstick sat down across from them and tried to get them into polysyllabic conversation. To our right a sophisticated blonde was trapped by Mr. grey pony-tail guy whose soft tones indicated that he was “centered” and “sensitive” (Run, lady run!).

Within half an hour the Asian model has the boys eating out of her hand; she stands up and they follow her outside (what exactly can you do on an open deck? Never mind. That just shows my lack of imagination; erotic smoking?) Meanwhile Pony-tail has moved into the rhythmic soft cadence and meaningful hand gestures which indicate a life story with suffering and enlightenment; he may mist up soon. The golden haired beauty looks up and our eyes meet. I wonder what that means but turn back to my trashy thriller.

As we line up for offloading in Port Angeles Linda and I end up behind the blonde and Mr. Ponytail. I’m still carrying the thriller.

“Good book?” She asks, catching my eyes again.

“No. It’s boring.”

Pony-tail is offended at this. Is he friends with the author or maybe he is one of nature’s killjoys? The blonde just smiles and says, “I think I’ve seen you on here before.”

Later I realize that she is right, I have seen her before. This was the woman from three weeks ago who kept making eyes at me from across the lounge and positioned herself next to me while leaving the ferry, giving me a smile and a wink.

Usually, I am magnet for flirtation from creepy males. The less they bathe and the stranger they get, the more they want me. Linda finds this funny. I ask her, “Why can’t I ever get a girl interested in me?”

Now, the same woman who was making eyes at me has initiated conversation, she is giving me chances to show my interest. Chances of which I am totally oblivious.

She tries again, “If it’s boring, why read it?”

I shrug, “Long trip, either read this, or spend my time trying to blow up people’s heads.”

Linda is killing herself laughing and the woman is laughing too, though maybe having moved away a bit. Pony-tail’s kill-joy meter is off the charts, “I guess we each have our own way.” he says in calming tones. “I’m a healer and you, uh, blow up people.”

“Yeah. But less people in line ahead of me.”

Pissing off Pony-tail makes me happy. But, no, I don’t get the girl, I don’t get the tingle-tingle flirting, just the “what if I hadn’t talked about killing people?” reflection.

2 comments:

Kathleen said...

Hello- My computer isn't letting me e-mail you, so i figures I would just post. In Minnesota we don't have tax on yarn because it's used for clothing which in MN is deemed a neccessity that shouldn't be taxed. Food applies under this too. I wish books weren't taxed that would rock.

Kathleen said...

I mean "I figured I would just post." I'm really more articulate in real life.