OK, not exactly. More like just past the docks and beyond the harbor. Even so, it was nice to be on the water.
I won a 60-minute sightseeing tour at a work function recently, and since Saturday was unseasonably nice, we figured it would be a good time to make use of the freebie.
Also, Vicki and I got home at 1:15 that morning from a Police concert the night before, and with Samson up just a few hours after that, this was about the only thing we could rouse ourselves to do. As if going to a concert in a minivan wasn't enough of an indication that we'd gotten old.
The narration for the tour is canned, so it was funny to hear --- interspersed among the facts about the harbor and its history --- how many American cities have taken the "Baltimore model" for developing their own waterfronts and urban areas. Presumably this means pedestrian malls replete with shopping and mid-range chain restaurants and not a homicide rate that even the Homicide writers couldn't have dealt with. So it goes.
We got a little tour of the captain's wheelhouse(?). [Sidenote: I have no idea what it's called, or, for that matter, what people mean when they say something is in someone else's wheelhouse, but for the sake of argument, I'm assuming it's the small-ship version of a captain's bridge. At least, that's what I told Samson.]
Inside were the captain and ship's mate, one of whom seemed only to be able to converse in questions --- Are you from out of town? Is this your first tour? Do you like it? Can you believe this weather? --- and the other who was visibly disappointed that the two or three 20-something girls who were probably accompanying maiden aunts on some sort of Saturday forced-march around the harbor were infinitely less interested in touring the wheelhouse than Samson was.
As usual, Jane took the high road and slept.
We got a little tour of the captain's wheelhouse(?). [Sidenote: I have no idea what it's called, or, for that matter, what people mean when they say something is in someone else's wheelhouse, but for the sake of argument, I'm assuming it's the small-ship version of a captain's bridge. At least, that's what I told Samson.] Inside were the captain and ship's mate, one of whom seemed only to be able to converse in questions --- Are you from out of town? Is this your first tour? Do you like it? Can you believe this weather? --- and the other who was visibly disappointed that the two or three 20-something girls who were probably accompanying maiden aunts on some sort of Saturday forced-march around the harbor were infinitely less interested in touring the wheelhouse than Samson was.
As usual, Jane took the high road and slept.
No comments:
Post a Comment