I’m on the ferry again. Heading to the mainland. Cripes, what a hellscape this place is. I think what makes the ferry so particularly awful is that I am confronted — nay, overwhelmed — by a tidal wave of humanity that I usually avoid. I mean, I try to grocery shop early in the morning or later in the evening just to avoid the throngs of mouth breathers. I rarely go to concerts anymore. I (generally) avoid shopping malls. Ok I guess that’s the best comparison I have for taking the ferry, it’s like going to the mall in that there are tons and tons of people, and a good portion of them are despicable. Today there was a tall lumbering idiot carrying his approximately two-year old spawn. He was walking at a snail’s pace, impeding the progress of everyone behind him but he was totally unaware, he was too busy cooing like an imbecile at his progeny. Said progeny had dual snot-clogged nostrils, running and dripping down into her mouth. She coughed into the crowd of people around her several times, dad didn’t care. She was having a fit, crying about whatever happened to be in her line of sight at any given moment. She repeatedly hit him in the face with her hands, her blanket, whatever, and he kept acting like it was cute, the god damned dimwit. “Oh wow! Oh my! Blublublublublub [or some other dumb ‘fun game sound’ he made up].” I wanted to scream, “YOU ARE RAISING HER TO BE A MONSTER, YOU FOOL.” The people behind me were a pair of rough-looking middle aged men who kept swearing loudly and making smart ass scum comments like “where is a guy supposed to smoke dope and drink booze on this fucking boat,” over and over. Euurrrrgghhhhh, loathing. Then a human seated near me watched some worthless videos on their phone at full volume. I’ve been thinking lately that that is a red flag to me, a sign that a person is not conscientious or considerate of anyone around them. They are self-absorbed, entitled. Prob deserve to be tossed on the pyre to burn alive.
And that pretty much sums up my feelings on traveling with BC Ferries. It’s a flaming bastard of a hell ride. Not a good place for a misanthrope.
A child seated in front of me has turned around and made eye contact with me twice. He is maybe five, six. Young enough to still be cute, endearing. I’ve smiled politely each time but am acutely aware of the fact that he will grow into some kind of monster very soon.
crimson highway 