Thanksgiving Would Come, But Would I Be There?

I rarely write stories. I don't consider myself a particularly good writer, but I had the time and the story on hand so I took a stab at it (so to speak). Here's what I wrote that cold night in New York:

"Today is Tuesday November 20, 2018.

I left school promptly after an early dismissal to make my way up to Vermont for Thanksgiving break with family. Travel was going well, the car was getting good gas mileage, and I was even self-controlled and avoided eating junk food for supper. About midway through New York, snow began coming down. The snow was on and off, mostly off, so I was able to go at a steady pace for most of the trip.

Things really started to get interesting once I got on the dark and solitary back roads. They were covered with a dusting of snow at best, so I drove slowly to be safe. There were hardly any other cars out driving and only a few houses sprinkled here and there. I could imagine myself sliding off the road and freezing to death, alone. Nonetheless, I saw that I only had about 25 miles to go and thought I recognized where I going in the dark. My hopes were up!

My hopes were up, that is, until I heard the GPS tell me to take a right turn onto Boat Dock drive. I looked at the GPS and saw my projected path going east across Lake Champlain. There were no cars around so I frantically looked on my phone (in the middle of an intersection) to see if my avoid-fairies-at-all-costs setting had been turned off. The only thing I could figure was that when I reset my network settings, my smartphone wasn’t smart enough to avoid ferries at all costs.

The most logical thing for me to do besides panic seemed to be checking to find out if a ferry was indeed running. To my surprise, there was someone in the booth!

“We’re in New York, right?” I asked the lady.

After asking me if I knew where I was (with slight condescension), I asked how far around the lake the drive would be, and if the ferry was still running.

It would be a 30-mile drive to the bridge crossing, 25 miles north to the ferry dock on the other side, and 12 more miles north to Burlington (my final destination) from there.

So, in other words, I would be driving for an hour and a half more.

"Is there a ferry running tonight by chance?" I asked, skeptically.

“Yes!" she said. "There is one more running tonight at 8:30."

So here I sit on snow-covered Lane Three waiting for a ferry to come out of the inky blackness. I had a good laugh about the whole thing on the phone with my wife (who hasn’t seen me in over a week), but she didn’t join in the merriment.

I’ve been praying to be a more positive person, so here is my opportunity, just in time for Thanksgiving.

I’m thankful for a warm car, a bathroom nearby (it’s heated so I will take longer than necessary), an actually-running ferry with one last journey tonight, and the relaxing sounds of cold, dark waves lapping on the western shores of Lake Champlain.

Happy Thanksgiving!"