Heading south on the tollway, we do what many travelers do. We stop at McDonald’s and grab a cheeseburger—a small one. We just want a  bite to get us through the afternoon till our 6:15 p.m. reservation at the Culinary Institute’s American Bounty Restaurant. Our interim destination is Newburgh Harbor, where we will board the Pride of the Hudson for a trip downriver.

An hour early, we are met on the dock by one of the crew. He looks at me and says, “You must be Charlotte.”

Taken by surprise, because they knew who we were, Michael immediately responds, “We aren’t the only couple on this cruise—are we?”

On Board

Because it is cold, cloudy, and windy, and because we have a choice, and because we are the only ones here, we get the prime spot in the stern of the boat at a table surrounded by windows.  Michael walks forward and then returns with wine, beer, and CHEETOS®. He leaves once again to buy another small bag. CHEETOS® are like heaven, a childhood addiction that followed me into adulthood, and I haven’t had any in an age.

Soon the boat is full—two busloads of tour groups have arrived—and at 2:26 pm, we leave the dock. I know Michael won’t sit with me long; the lure of the upper deck with wind in his hair and the possibility of river spray in his face and eagles soaring overhead is too strong for him to ignore.  Many passengers have the same problem. The salon is virtually deserted.  Me?  I’m happy with my corner view.

Finally, when we have passed all of the high points, seen West Point from the water, and head back upstream. We cruise with the wind, so Michael comes down and urges me to try the upper deck. It is nice up here, and I am dressed warmly enough to begin to settle-in. Then we pass a wind tunnel that chases me below to a sheltered spot at the bottom of the stairs. I sit and contemplate and look and am content in my aloneness.