“Please Lord, let me catch this boat.”
Speeding down to the ferry, I pray everyone ahead of me has ferry passes.
The Oldsmobile in front of me stops just past the booth, then backs up three feet. Its window cranks down.
“How much?” she asks.
“My purse is in the trunk. I’ll get it.”
“Oh, God no,” I wail.
She hands the attendant money. A quarter rolls under the car.
“Sorry. I’ve got another under the seat.” She exits again.
“No, no!” I howl, and tearfully bang my head on the steering column.
Then my airbag inflates.