It doesn't seem like a year ago that I was writing a post here, about how I was going to work on boats for a year. My last day at work on the ferry was yesterday, and that part of my life is now officially over. Together with my previous time in the Coastguard, I have enough sea time to get my license, but have no immediate plans to sit the exams. The time doesn't expire for several years, so I can do it when I want to.

It seems that my last few weeks at work were expressly designed to remind me what was good about the job, and what was bad about it. First I had the Good Week, with beautiful weather, and the orca I wrote about earlier. My last week was the Bad Week, presumably so I wouldn't feel sad about leaving. I was on the long late shift for my last three days -- and on the routes which are particularly noted for their spectacular number of drunks, creeps, and weirdos.

Second to last day at work: we are just about to leave the dock when a guy comes running for the boat as if pursued by orcs. This happens often enough that it isn't unusual. (People being late for the boat, I mean, not being pursued by orcs.) He gets on. We are, again, just about to leave the dock when four policemen turn up and tell us not to. We help them Secure The Area, which isn't difficult as the only alternate exit involves a cold swim, and watch as they drag the guy off to help them with their enquiries. We later hear he had beaten a man half to death in the inner city.

Later the same day: Five or six drunks become abusive, roughly two minutes into a 35-minute trip. It seems to last much, much longer by the time we finally get to the other end and decant them onto the wharf.

Even later the same day: Fifteen or sixteen drunks become -- well, not abusive as such. It's easier with your basic lowlife drunks who just get violent and can then be dealt with summarily and handed over to the police at the other end. Your upper-middle-class drunks, on the other hand, afflict the spirit more than the body, with their utter contempt for those they consider beneath their station. I'm not sure what I hate worse from this type -- when they purposely talk demeaningly to you for the amusement of their friends, or when they ignore you completely because they see you as basically an item of furniture.

Even even later the same day: A drunk male passenger becomes extremely abusive and physically threatening towards his wife, who insists that nothing is wrong and we do not need to take action on her behalf. I spend the whole trip hanging around pretending to be cleaning things just behind his seat, itching for him to make a move which will give us the legal right to thump him and remove him from the vicinity, while also considering the distinct possibility that his victim will join the fray on *his* side.

So much later the same day I don't even know when it was: We finally get rid of Mr Chivalry. He leaves the boat still yelling to his beloved that he is going to smack her *%%#ing head in when they get home. We feel extremely depressed and unhappy.

My last day: There is a BBQ and drinkies in the evening as a fond farewell for one of the honchos from the main office, who is also leaving that day. Since I am working through to 1.30 a.m, this isn't a whole lot of use to me. I am asked by my boss, who is totally unaware that it's my last day, if I will be going "to [honcho's] goodbye party". I say no. Towards evening, one of the other crew on my boat puts in a radio call reminding all stations that it is my last day, too, if any of the forty or so people currently listening from the eight boats and four office sections want to say goodbye. One person responds.

Later it's time for all the drunks again, only drunker than the previous night because now it's a Friday.

If I ever start complaining about how boring my new office job is, you all have my permission to laugh at me. And Grishny, you now have my total support for that whole I Don't Believe In Beer thing.

Brunnen-"but the other two people on my crew gave me a card and a book about the ferries as a souvenir, and said they'll miss me, and that's what counts"G