(continued from earlier)
The journey should be at least as interesting as the arrival, and Portside‘s old Mary Whalen does not get out much these days anyhow, so clear destination notwithstanding, she has to turn a bit, do a molinete, glance southward; wistfully looking back toward the Kills, she feels a frisson of seafaring from a glimpse, ever so faint, of the curve of the Bayonne Bridge starboard just off the tip of Governor’s Island. Time for a calecita?
Oops, time to coil the dockline, too.
When she’s satisfied, Whalen and partner spin back in the direction toward her appointment. From left to right: South Street Seaport, the Empire State Building in the distance, the Chrysler Building, and then the Brooklyn Bridge and the Manhattan Bridge . . .
and the Statue off the stern of the tug
and the band marches in place
til the Whalen finds her new berth and makes fast. From here, what marvels lie ahead? See the tour boats lined up already! Mary A. Whalen,
you move me. And your potential . . . the best lies ahead.