Three summers ago the traveling Señora Weinhaus and I took a 16 day road trip through Ohio and New York into the New England states coming back through West Virginia. We had several reasons for taking such a trip. Señora had never been to New England. I have a dream to visit every one of state capitol buildings before I make my journey to Vahalla. On this trip we managed to hit 9 capitols. We were also going to visit Robin’s niece who had married a Mainer.
I also wanted to see Niagara Falls. For reasons unclear I have always wanted to do this. The outside of the state park area is touristy and campy as would be expected. However, inside the park is wonderful and peaceful despite the crowds. The sheer size and power of the falls and the river are simply overwhelming. It is a sightseeing trip I would recommend to anyone who enjoys nature.
One of the activities to be done within the park is to take the Maid of the Mist excursion. On the Canadian side they have a similar boat. On the American side they give the tourists blue rain parkas as part of the price of the ticket. On the Canadian side they give them red parkas. Standing on the high cliffs beyond the falls it is easy to tell where the boat came from without even looking for the American or Canadian flag. There is a sea of blue or red clad tourists on the decks of each of the boats. The two sides alternate in taking their boat to the base of the falls.
Robin and I had purchased our tickets, boarded the Maid of the Mist and donned our blue parkas. As you can imagine the decks of the boat were crowded. We were on the lowest deck and decided to make our way to the bow of the boat. I wanted to be in the front of the boat as I was taking pictures. The boat was rocking, not in menacing, frightening way, but enough where you had to be careful about moving. The closer we got to the falls the more apparent it became why we needed the rain parkas. It became mistier and mistier. It was not like rain, falling or wind driven, as the water seemed to be coming at us from all angles. The closer we got to the falls the rockier the boat became, the thicker the mist was and the huge boulders at the base of the falls grew in size and peril.
Señora and I had become separated. It may have been because I was jockeying for position to take pictures despite my water befouled lens. Partly to steady myself and partly to avoid people moving, I had braced myself against the wall of a cabin on the boat. We continued to move forward, coming almost to the base of the falls. There the boat seemed to come to a standstill while still rocking noticeably. It was at this time a woman brushed past me. Well brush is not exactly the right word. She was squeezing past me her chest on my chest, and she did not seem to be in a hurry to do so. The contact was more than the casual impression of a woman’s breast accidentally touching you as she attempts to move in a crowded space. At least it felt that way to me. Or perhaps the rocking of the boat just made it hard for her to move for a few long, lingering seconds. If unintentional it still felt deliberate, sustained and provocative. However, due to the mist I would have been at a lost to identify the woman afterwards. She was neither young nor old and seemed to have a reasonable figure with a very adequate bosom. I do think, for some reason, her name might have been Isadora Zelda White Stollerman Wing.
I did not say anything to Señora afterwards for a couple reasons. Number one was that it felt vaguely adulterous. I had enjoyed it much more than I should have. The second reason was that I felt slightly violated. I had not given permission for such intimate contact. It was exciting to be below such an extraordinary display of Mother Nature’s force, but until that moment it had not felt sexual to me. Or perhaps I am just a dirty old man.
In hindsight, as the memory resurfaced, I thought what a wonderful way that would have been to pick someone’s pocket. Fortunately, I did not lose anything, but I did gain a memory with mixed emotional content.
Keep well.
Loved this story!
One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi……….
Isadora Zelda White Stollerman Wing, you wanton woman!