Fast fairy
A fast fairy is a poofter with premature ejaculation issues. In ordinary conversation, it’s difficult to tell the difference between fast fairy and fast ferry. This is about the latter.
Rochester’s fast ferry has been in town about a month now after arriving three weeks late. The thing is fucking huge. Five storys high, nearly 300 feet long and over 75 feet wide. It carries (ferries?) 750 passengers (and up to 20 some odd tractor trailers) in comfort and luxury at speeds up to 55mph, making the crossing to Toronto in 2 hours and 15 minutes.
This morning’s paper announced that the boat will spend three weeks in Toronto getting some engine work done and painting the scrapes suffered during a visit to Manhattan and while coming through the St. Lawrence Seaway.
It fit through the seaway locks with only one foot to spare on either side. My parents, by the way, drove to Massena to see it come through the lock there. They were interviewed by two Rochester television stations. Dad loved it, Mom fumed.
In any event, the ferry’s maiden voyage has been rescheduled to June 19—my birthday coincidentally. I was disappointed that I couldn’t afford my annual Memorial Day trip to Toronto this year, and I had planned travel on the fast ferry.
Since I signed a new client yesterday, and since the first passenger trips begin on my birthday, this morning I’ve booked a birthday weekend in Toronto, travelling aboard the fast ferry—business class.
I’ll report on how it goes, perhaps from onboard since they boast continuous high-speed Internet access.
