Red sticker stories

I have had, in my head, a musing about one of the unique aspects of living on Ocracoke - the stickers we all have on our cars, which indicate our permanent resident status and allow us to board the Hatteras Inlet ferry from the priority traffic lane (a very helpful thing when you have a car full of groceries, the refrigerated items in a cooler, hopefully staying cold enough, it's July, and the line is long).

It seems I waited a bit too long for my "red sticker stories", because now we have white stickers. (They expire every three years, so we had to get new ones in January). "White sticker stories" somehow doesn't have the same ring, but I've decided to tell a few of my stories anyway.

I'm in the habit of waving at any car with a red sticker. Since I'm still relatively new here, many of the people I wave at don't know me (and I don't know them either, but I still wave!) As a result, I inevitably get one of three reactions: some people automatically wave back (these are the ones like me, who wave at anyone with a red sticker and/or anyone who waves first), some don't wave (it's quite possible they didn't even notice my wave), and some get this "who the heck are you and why are you waving at me?" look on their faces, staring as they drive by. I actually enjoy that reaction the most. Of the three, it's the least automatic and indicates the other driver is thinking about who might be waving at him or her.

Speaking of the "automatic" waving, I knew I might have become a little mindless with my friendliness when I caught myself waving at the red sticker on an empty truck PARKED next to the road! Suddenly I realized I was having a Pavlov's dog reaction: see red sticker, raise fingers. I had to laugh out loud at myself.

My favorite red sticker story is about the first time I used my sticker. John had gotten the sticker a few days earlier, but we hadn't had any reason to go to Hatteras. Then my father came to visit, and we decided to take a drive to see the Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum and the Hatteras Lighthouse. We headed up the island and came around the curve at the docks shortly after the ferry staff had started the loading process. The guy directing the traffic waved me forward, holding up a hand to stop the next person in the non-priority lane from boarding so he could slot me in to the line of cars. Well, that poor non-priority person was not pleased about the situation, and kept driving even though the ferry man was clearly signaling she should stop. She rolled up until she was pretty close to the poor guy before finally giving up and stopping to wait for me. The funny part of the story is this: the angry lady ended up on the ferry behind us, and she stared daggers at me during the entire 40 minute ride to Hatteras. If looks could kill, I wouldn't be here writing this today! She was not at all happy. I found it hysterical, since there really wasn't anything to be upset about - she was on the darn ferry! I would have completely understood if she had thrown those looks at me from the ferry dock, as I pulled out in my car on the ferry she should have been on, if not for me. (Heck, I would've understood if she had thrown THINGS at me in that situation!) But there she was, on the ferry she would have been on regardless of whether I had suddenly arrived on the scene or not, but still angry nonetheless.

Or maybe she was just in a bad mood at having to LEAVE the island. (It's not my favorite thing to do either...I much prefer riding the ferry in the other direction, coming home).