Tourist-snatched

So I'll break down the stories from our trip to the Cape. One of the main things we wanted to do was visit Martha's Vineyard, an island south of the cape, across a body of water called Nantucket Sound, close to Rhode Island and Long Island, NY. The part of MV we wanted to visit is called Edgartown, where years ago my mother bought me a beautiful batik dress. It's a beautiful, too-perfect town full of old school hardcore preppies and the tourists that follow them around, like us. There's a marina and it seems like everyone sails or yachts or otherwise spends time on the water, which is AWESOME. Wouldn't you love to spend a week like that?

So, back to my story. The only way to get to the Vineyard -if you don't want to go the air/sea route of John John and his bride Carolyn- is by ferry. There are ferries from Hyannis Port, Falsmouth, and Woods Hole, each of which is progressively further West along the bottom of the Cape. After some invetigation, my mom and I decided the best one was the one departing drom Falsmouth: the Pied Piper. Unlike the one at Woods Hole, it's a passenger-only ferry (no cars or trucks) and it's a shorter ride than the Hyannis one.

We took our measly maps and drove toward Falsmouth. When we reached the town we realized we had no idea where the dock was. An AM radio station emitted a loop of staticky information that we couldn't make out. We thought for sure there'd be a sign and eventually saw one that said "Vineyard Boat". At the end of its route was a far-away parking lot. Worse than that, you just got a stub there and were directed to *another* parking lot, somewhat closer to where we figured the water was. The other parking lot ("Sun Parking") was the worst -the WORST- I have ever seen, and I've lived in South America. The attendants told us where to park and when we got there, and saw it was impossible, other attendants gave us different directions. Repeat. Repeat. It's a big dirt lot with cars so tightly packed, only Michael Schumacher could pull in. Anyway, I finally parked. We got on one of the buses that we had been told would shuttle us to the ferry departure. My mother got a seat, but I didn't and had to withstand bumping from some elfish teenager's big butt ("tee hee! I don't want to hold on, mom! tee hee, I like falling"). Oh yeah, I pushed her back.

We rode and rode and rode until it became all too obvious we had been hijacked and were being taken to WOODS HOLE! Wrong ferry dock, so far away, I could've driven there myself. Woods Hole is a big operation, with tons of people, cars and trucks. We spent the ride next to some women who made friends on the journey and were complaining about Bush, the war, US national security... I don't know... kind of lame.

Anyway, that's that for now. Sorry it's not a "tighter" story. I'm looking at the time. Gotta go pick up the rental (again) to drive my mother to Ottawa for the day.