Best Dinner-Date Cruise (2008)

Staten Island Ferry

She told me her name was Olivia. Olivia! What a fabulous name! Four syllables, six letters—defiantly more exotic than the names of the last two months: Stacey, Jill. (Feh!) We were at the party, it was a bore, and we decided to leave. Me and her. But where to go? The night was sticky, ideal for a boat ride, a cruise, anything to be on water, and we were broke. Then it hit me, the STATEN ISLAND FERRY. A free cruise, the view of the statue, a broken skyline, salty air. Twenty minutes there, 20 minutes back. If we'd had money, we'd have had Brie and wine like uptown folks. Instead, we took our shoes off and danced to the ragged-looking jazz band. Oh, Olivia! (I could marry a name like that.) We made out way down on the first deck, hid behind the empty parked cars. Nobody around. I could taste her lipstick. Minutes before docking, she made her way to my ear. "Geoff," she said, "I have a confession." No, I thought, here it comes, kids, another boyfriend, a disease, a husband, this date was too good. I fumbled. "Uh, what?" "My name's not Olivia." Take the 1 or 9 train to the South Ferry Station stop.


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