Before you can enter the Staten Island Ferry’s terminal, one needs to be vetted by two Labradors who look as official as rodeo clowns…their partners as stern as they seem surprised.
Why are we working again when we could be lolling on someone’s bed?
Everyone, except me, is annoyed they have to stop to submit their bags for inspection. I, on the other hand, can’t wait to bound over to see them, who to their boss’s chagrin, are just as happy to see me.
“Don’t pet the dog!” one cranky guard said, “can’t you see it’s working?”
Did you say it?
Despite the early hour, I dig out my charm I’ll admit is still sleeping and say, “Oh come on, he’s still a puppy after all, who needs a good scratch.”
No, it didn’t work, as I moseyed onto the boat.
Next day I tried again with another guard who looked around before saying, “Go ahead, Charlie loves attention, especially from the ladies.”
Charlie, after he stuck his nose in my bag, sat in my lap like a happy guy at a strip club.
As for me, I may have smiled all the way to Staten Island.