I’m on the ferry heading to work this morning.

As the boat is nubbing into port, I go to pull open the glass sliding door so we can all get off. and the guy standing next to me smiles and says “Charley – ”

Huh? My name’s not Charley and I don’t know this guy.

And then I realize, he’s talking about the guy on the other side of the glass door, one of the intrepid ones waiting on the outside deck for docking. He might be leaning lightly against the door from the other side.

Okay, no problem. I pull the door just a little bit, just enough for him to feel it and stand up straight, off the door. He does and I pull the thing the rest of the way.

Five seconds later, they drop the rope and the whole crowd heads off the boat. That’s when I note that Charley is listing, first in one direction and then the other.  Heading generally in the direction of home (off the boat, at least) but tacking this way and that like a sailboat into the wind. Walking oh so lightly, as though the ground might be moving just enough to trick him if he’s not careful.

He’s clearly had a long night, Charley has, and now he’s on his way home to sleep it off. Apparently this is not the first time either, so the ferry regulars know Charley and the careful treatment he requires.

New Yorkers love their characters and generally know how to take care of them. City of Characters, indeed.