The Ferry Flirt...aka....I would rather have jumped off the boat than have a drink with you

Tonight was the first time I've ever been "hit on" while riding the ferry. I chose to sit in the galley area, where people tend to congregate over beer and chat about their day. I sat there reading my Kindle, and eating McDonalds french fries. One time, in the galley, a man asked about my Kindle, and I didn't mind one bit. He seemed genuinly curious.....and happily married, unlike the tool who talked to me tonight, who couldn't stop staring at me and slurring his words. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little just thinking about it. I often wonder why it's so difficult for some men to read signals that blare as bright as neon signs.

I noticed a tall, skinny man move two seats down from me and thought, "Oh, he must have felt sick riding backward." But,....NO. An awkward, annoying conversation was about to disrupt my peaceful ferry ride hom.

"What are you reading?" His eyes seemed to roll back in his scrawny head as he struggled to see straight through the boozy haze. He was dirty blond, skinny, with a protruding Adam's apple. It looked like he hadn't shaved in days.

"Baldacci." I muttered, and continued to read. I knew he didn't give a rip about my book, he just wanted to know if I would get a drink after the ferry ride. I made brief eye contact as I answered, cause I didn't want to be completely rude. Big mistake. The man probably saw my eyes and grabbed on like they were a passing lifeboat, bobbing in Puget Sound.

Silence passed. I saw him shift. I concentrated hard on the electronic ink in front of me.

"Is that a Kimble?"

"No, it's a Kindle." Tried desperately to ignore the man. More silence. I suddently felt jealous of the overweight woman in front of me, in I-pod bliss.

"What do you do?"

"Well, ohhhh..... uh....I'm a writer." Sometimes I hate admitting I'm a news reporter, because it opens up the conversation to a series of questions. What's that like? That must be fun? Are you actually ON AIR? Like, on the RADIO? Wow! So I could actually HEAR YOU if I tuned in? This time, an uncomfortable silence grew between us. This is the time you get up, and walk away, " I thought. I was sending all the appropriate signals, sending out ultra "go away" vibrations, while being as polite as I possibly could.

Nope.

"So...uh....what do you write for."

"A news station." His woozy eyes implored me. "KOMO, that is," I told him reluctantly.

"Do you write commercials?"

I rolled my eyes.

"No. News. Local." (now please, please go. away. now.)

"When I want to listen to news, I turn to KOMO!" It almost sounded like an ad, except for his slurred, drowsy speech. He downed his microbrew, and leaned over to stare some more. I imagined other commuters sitting near us, feeling my pain.

I had a hard time reading because he was there, brewing up his next question. My eyes scanned the same sentences over and over again, willing him to just leave. I'm hardly ever hit on anymore, and that's how I like it. I'm usually pretty good sending out the "I have a boyfriend vibe", but I guess this dude didn't pick up on it cause of the beer richocheting through his skinny veins, turning them brown and hoppy.

Finally, he rose on lanky stork legs and strode purposely away from me. For an instant, I thought I saw him sway.

I kept my eyes peeled for the man as I walked off the ferry and back to my car. I pictured him following me home, or saying how rude I was, or asking what I was doing later. I'm so glad I escaped, and I hope I never see him, or get hit on, ever again.