View from the boat. Not today.But, today’s an exception.The other day, when

View from the boat. Not today.But, today’s an exception.The other day, when I was running to the ferry from our exceptionally-placed offices on Western (there is no better building for a ferry-depending employee to work downtown), I realized that I was plenty early to catch the ferry, and had no reason to hustle. That didn’t slow me down. And it was then that I realized: If I ever have a son, I’m gonna pass along some knowledge “Always hustle to the ferry. You’ll never regret it.”I picked this up from Pop, who’s worked downtown for decades. You can set a clock by his route down First Avenue. And for the last year, my neighbors in West Bremerton have been able to set their microwaves by the blur of my red jacket through their street-side windows. I leave at (almost) the same time every day, walk the 25 minutes to the boat, and am usually the last person aboard, or pretty close to it. I have no time to stop for anything. No coffee. No paper. I even happened upon a litter of newborn black kittens on my route this spring. They were obviously out of place, but I couldn’t gather them up (they’re slippery little suckers), so I continued on to the ferry. (I’m not heartless. I did try to find them that evening. No luck. I’m sure they were all adopted.) I know, halfway through my route, if I’m going to have to sprint for the last quarter mile. What I’m trying to say is that I have a route, a schedule, and a ferry to catch. Not time for small talk. Until this morning.Ferry in sight, I’m right on schedule when I walk past an old friend, a guy I roomed with for a summer during college when we were both intens at The Gazette in Colorado Springs. Look, I’m not a fan of the MySpace sensation of catching up with every acquaintance from high school and beyond (except for the ones reading this). But, this morning, I was really interested in chatting-up this old friend who challenged me with conversation many an evening in our sometimes-flooded (Colorado weather is crazy) apartment in Colorado Springs. So, there you go, that’s why I’m not at my desk. That’s why I’m sitting at a coffee shop. I was too fascinated by the fact that a friend I knew in Colorado Springs was for some reason milling around downtown Bremerton. It doesn’t happen often. I don’t miss ferries often.But, that doesn’t mean it didn’t sting when — in full sprint down the “tunnel” — I saw the walkway raise off the ferry deck.