So I was going out to Governor's Island today for the Figment Festival, and from there I was going to go to Sally and Daniel McKleinfeld's for a party. I figured I'd buy a nice bottle of booze to bring them, and for some ridiculous reason, I decided to buy it in MY neighborhood, at the beginning of the many bicycle miles I'd have to ride. This was a bad idea on several levels. Most immediately, it was a hot, humid day. Like the inside of a dog's mouth. Having any extra weight in my backpack, plastering it more firmly to my back, was contra-indicated. But I didn't think of that until after I bought it, and I was too lazy to return the unopened bottle to the store to get my money back.
I rode all the way down to the bottom of Manhattan, stood on the line to get on the Gov Island ferry, and then some random person said people with bikes had to go to a different line. At first I didn't know whether to trust him or not, but the line I was on was so bloody long that it wouldn't matter if I got out of it and returned later. I had nothing to lose by leaving to investigate the possible existence of a special bicycle line.
And lo! There was such a line! And it was much much much shorter, and in the shade! Bikes RULE!
BUT... upon being let into the shade and onto the line, a security guy said I'd need to open my bag to let them search it. I don't think they searched anyone else. But I was looking particularly terroristic so I didn't mind. Better safe than sorry. I could've blown up Governor's Island, for all they knew. Of course, that meant they'd find my brand new, unopened bottle of top shelf liquor. I didn't want them to think I was trying to smuggle it over to the Figment Festical, so I freely offered the information that I had it, and was giving it as a gift to a friend at a birthday party later, and they confiscated it.
I told them at least to drink it themselves, or give it to somebody, anybody, a homeless guy.
They threw it in the garbage.
I kind of feel like the Figman Festibule people didn't sufficiently warn me that my obvious booze would be confiscated, after all, Governor's Island has no commerce or provisions to speak of and if there was anything we'd need throughout the day, we were instructed to bring it ourselves. What if I needed booze? The event organizers should've recommended concealing our booze in non-booze containers (classy to give as a gift that way). And it's not like a drunken disorderly person could really do any harm. What was I gonna do, try to break Fort Jay?
What a waste. But still... rules are rules and I probably should've anticipated that.
Oh well. It still turned out to be a fun-ish day out there. Things certainly improved once I got to Sally and Daniel's. They threw a great backyard bbq party. And when they took the second bottle of booze I bought that day away from me, thankfully they didn't throw it in the garbage. Therefore, I like Sally and Daniel better than Governor's Island Ferry Security guards.
"Oh Jon," you say, "But that's like comparing apples and oranges!"
Oh yeah?! Compare my foot up your ass!
"Oh Jon, that doesn't even make sense."
Oh yeah?! Make sense of my foot up your ass!"
Some years ago, I found myself peering out the wraparound windows of a corner office on the 42nd floor of a midtown skyscraper after hours (never mind what I was doing there) on a beautiful clear night. The view to the south, of the Empire State Building and all the way down to lower Manhattan was glorious. But I had a vision, clear as day, of the far distant future when all of it would be gone. The vision wasn't frightening, and it didn't make me sad. It was just stating a fact. Don't get attached. It's all temporary. And our way of life will probably turn out to be a lot "more temporary" even than the stuff we worked so hard to build on this tiny sliver of bedrock.
I bet those security guards will feel stupid for blindly following the rules then!