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Port Jefferson: No Reservations

As I drive up to the Bridgeport-Port Jefferson Ferry, a guard stops me and asks if I have a reservation. No reservations. He barks at me to enter Lane 2. I'm the first car in line because the morning commute from Bridgeport to Port Jefferson, NY, is over and it's a bit too early for tourists.

This morning I don't have time to stop in the station to use the restroom or vending machines since the crew ushers me onto the ferry almost immediately. Blocks secure my front tires and I clank-clank up the metal stairs in an echo chamber and into the ship.  After shelling out $50 for a car and driver, I join the line at the food kiosk to inspect the salted pretzels, mysterious sandwiches wrapped in shiny silver paper, and lukewarm coffee.

I've taken this ferry on many occasions and today is just like all the others: a smooth, uneventful ride of just over an hour which lands the vessel in a quaint village on Long Island Sound. I need to travel inland today, but the lively hamlet is a perfect day-tripping spot, no car needed.

I finish work early and head back to explore Port Jeff. Finding a parking spot is not difficult, but essential, as ticketing seems to be a hobby here. The port bursts with boutiques supplying visitors with unique and unusual gifts, games, and gourmet items. Bougainvillea spills over fences and snippets of conversation penetrate the beach roses which nearly hide the outdoor cafes.

I stop for a snack, soaking in a very blue harbor shot through with magenta blooms, brilliant sunshine streaming across my table, and a cool breeze easing the heat. I fantasize about missing the ferry, having dinner at Danfords on the Sound, staying at the Fox and Owl Inn, breakfasting on scrambled eggs and toast, listening to the lap-lap of the waves, while watching the hustle and bustle of the port.

An alarm wrests me from my reverie, and, reversing my route, I'm in Lane 2 again with no reservations. On the ferry, I join regulars in the bar to gaze at the diminishing harbor.  A crowd congregates in the middle of the room eyeing tins of catered lasagna, garlic bread, and salad. In a fitting memorial, the party toasts a loved one who passed away at sea.

I don't know their beloved, but I offer my own toast to the Bridgeport-Port Jeff Ferry and the opportunity for a quick and inexpensive get-away with no reservations.