Message #297099

[franksolich]

The next day, I then boarded the bus to Stranraer, where I arrived in mid-evening.

Remember, I usually traveled during "off-hours" because the fares were cheaper; the boat from Stranraer to Larne was a night ferry.

Not being intimately acquainted with shippage, I was impressed by the ferry, which (I later learned) had a capacity of 1,000, and a reputation for being widely-used.

The North Channel of the Irish Sea was violent that winter night, but I had already been asea before on rough waters, and as with many Nebraskans, for some peculiar reason (given that Nebraska is far from any major body of water), the tumbling and swerving and curling and twisting bothered me not at all.

It's possible I was the only one not bothered; the other 42 passengers aboard stayed inside, while I roamed the vast expanses of the boat outside.

As the lights of Northern Ireland began penetrating the darkness, an official approached me.  I offered my passport, which startled him.  He reminded me of the various travel advisories, and that all the other passengers on board were British or Irish, that I was not only the only American on board, but the only foreigner, period, on board.

But, I was on board and nothing could be done about it.

He shifted through a large envelope, and gave me three forms to fill out, including a little green card, about the size of an index card, titled PREVENTION OF TERRORISM ACT.  I carefully itemized all of my personal data, my whole autobiography, and gave the reasons for visiting Northern Ireland.

The official scanned them quickly, and saying "Good luck," went on to other business.

that big animal from yesterday--whether deer or moose or elk, I have no idea--is standing down by the river again, and the cats don't like it; the rule here is that if the cats don't like something, it has to go, and so back later