Racing To The Ship

The worst day of my life appeared from out of nowhere and it isn’t getting any better. Skies, rumbling since daybreak, would any minute cast down torrents of rain. My name is Bitsy and all I need is a break, just a tiny break. I’ll be late for my own funeral but today I’m late to catch the cruise ship about to sail down the coast.

The day started with four slashed tires on my 1982 Fiat 2000 Spider. Out of nowhere! I keep thinking, who does something like that? The police officer arrived, surprisingly, within twenty minutes of my call to 311 and took down my complaint. Not much they could do for slashed tires but at least I would have the report for my insurance agent. I don’t have time to bother with this today. It will have to wait. I’m still racing against time. Police report completed, travel bag packed, no one available to give me lift so I pick up my bag while putting on my mask of cheer and goodwill.

It is a half-mile jaunt to the edge of the boardwalk. I neither feel cheerful or full of goodwill. Still steaming from the slashed tires, I spring into jogging to the pier in hope of catching the darn boat. Off to my right I glimpse at sensational sand castles built on the beach. Castle with mote and dragon made in life size form. Who finds time for such things? I push into a run, arriving at the pier just as the ships horn blares and the terminal gate is about to be closed. I cry out urging the keeper of the gate to let me still board. Thankfully I am not turned away and I join the meandering crowd making their way onto the ship.


###
300 Words