Tour Boat Comes On Hard, Several Drinks Spilled

FAIRPORT, NEW YORK — The touring vessel Colonial Belle ended it’s 22nd cruising season on Sunday with a severe mishap in Lock 32 in Pittsford, NY. The boat was returning to the lock chamber when it came on hard against the lock wall.

“It was horrifying!” said one passenger, “This little guy? With red hair? Dressed like a pirate? He sold me a Grey Goose and soda for $9. I almost spilled it!”

The boats Captain, the legendary Kaitlynn McHenry said “I blame the crew. You just can’t get good help these days.”

Senior Deckhand and First Mate Dre Elmore had this to say: “I don’t get enough sleep. I have a rash. I just can’t seem to focus anymore. The sun was in my eyes. Also, I’m all out of Red Bull.”

The boats owner, Mona, could not be reached for comment.

One and Done

photo by Kaitlynn McHenry

It’s only a dream. You’re in the middle of the harbor, the boat, all 60 foot of her, is turning on a dime. The top deck is full; folks from all around, just having fun on a warm day with a nice boat ride.

She lines up with the liftbridge, but why is she turning? It’s a dream. You don’t have to turn the boat for departure, she’s always pointed west, towards the bridge. It’s a dream.

You throw her into gear and jam on the throttle. The bow rises up in protest and then settles and she gets to moving fast.

There are people along the dock, and on boats, watching, something curious is happening, but they can’t place just what.

The liftbridge looms. No radio call, no request for a lift. The boat settles down into the water and gains speed. There is no stopping her now.

The clang of the bell and the forlorn bugle of the horn as the bridge operator hits too many buttons at once. But it’s too late. The bridge lurches upwards, too slow, far too slow. And the boat continues forward.

The bow impacts the bottom truss of the bridge and crumples in a tin-foil ball as sparks fly.

Sparks fly.

The people up front are throwing themselves to the floor. There are screams.

You kick the throttle forward. Your face is contorted into a rictus of joy. The noise, the shrieking of steel on steel, it’s something you imagined a long time ago.

That first time when a man asked you about being a woman captain.

Sparks fly.

It’s only a dream. You wake up.

Lunch cruise today. 11:30 crew call.

One and done.