Day Five

Day 5

Set the alarm for 625 this morning.  The ferry operators told us they would begin taking calls for standby passengers on the noon ferry at 630am.  I called and after a number of rings, the person on the other end asked me to hold and put the phone down.  I could hear that she was dealing with people who had not made the 630 ferry—presumably these would spill over into the standby list for the noon ferry.  When she came back on the line and we concluded our business, the crapmobile was number 8 on the standby list.  I had no statistically reliable sample with which to judge my probability of getting on the boat but I did not feel good about this.  They had only let on four standbys on the outbound trip.  There was nothing left to do.  The die was cast and we were in the hands of fate.

There was really no reason to be that concerned about the ferry.  There was plenty of lodging available on the island this time of year and we really had nowhere else to go except for the next stop on our road trip.  However, I knew that failure to get on the appointed ferry would have severe consequences.  It was our honeymoon, so everything that happened, good or bad, would be magnified in significance and viewed as a harbinger of the future.  Missing the ferry, which seemed very likely at that point, would permanently undermine the reputation for infallibility that I had carefully cultivated with Ann over the years.  Worse yet, it would give her a lifetime opportunity for ridicule.  It was very important to get on that ferry.

Perhaps you’ve heard of divine intervention?  A moment when God inserts himself into earthly events to tip things in your favor?  You be the judge. 

While sitting in the car waiting to hear if we would make the ferry I decided to get out my blackberry and see what sort of horror show was developing at the office for my return.  Saw some email banter from Ed Matuszak and Brent Luce (managers of CapitalWorks’ Lakefront Partners hedge fund) and sent them a note saying we were waiting for the ferry.  Ed volunteered that Brent was friends with a guy who owned half the ferries on the Cape.  Brent asked his friend for help but, sadly, our ferry was owned by another company.  However, he said he would call his competitor and see if they could bump us up the queue.  Brent’s friend said it would be a long shot and told us not to get our hopes up.

They called standbys at 1150—five of them (recall that we were number 8).  After a pause (to see how these cars fit) they called a sixth car.  We were definitely screwed.  But then, in a miracle worthy of a Charlton Heston bible movie, I heard my name called.  Somehow we had moved from 8 to 7 and were the last car on the boat.  It is hard to overestimate the significance to my future of of this one twist of fate—aura of infallibility preserved, humiliation avoided, redemption achieved.  On the other hand, I now have to deal with Brent when I get back to the office.

We had a very pleasant ferry ride to Hyannis then drove up to my aunt and uncle’s summer house in West Falmouth where we will spend the next few days.  Their house is in a private seaside community on an island connected to the mainland by a short causeway.  The house is in the classic Cape Cod style in some ways (silver cedar shake shingles, white trim) but has very interesting architecture, a passion of my aunt Donna (I suspect that my uncle Jim, by contrast, while he has many fine qualities, has the aesthetic sense of, well, an auto parts manufacturer).  We have a view of Nantucket sound, a beautiful deck, a big kitchen and room for a half dozen more people.

We took a bike ride around the community and I went for a swim in the sound.  We went to dinner at the local grill and met a golf pro who was regaling his friends with his memory of significant dates in his relationship with his wife—first date, first weekend together, etc.  It was very impressive and the women in the group were clearly captivated.  In a more private moment I mentioned to him that his memory was very impressive.  He responded, “Yeah, I figured out a long time ago that women love that crap so I bust it out all the time!”  He then gave me some tips on how I could learn this trick and manipulate women myself.  Oi vey.

We looked at the weather before we went to bed—again, the next day was supposed to be torrential rains all day (this has been the forecast every day since we got here).  Oddly, we have had beautiful weather the entire time and the rain has never appeared.