Most of us bust our humps not to get ahead, but just to keep from being left behind. We enjoy life's little pleasures because, all too often, those are the only pleasures we get. We fight traffic, red tape, the system and The Man more hours than we should, more hours than we get paid for, all just to stay even. "Rat race" is no longer an adequate descriptor, because a race implies that there is a winner, which just plain ain't the case for the vast majority of us who kiss more ass than we kick.
And none of that matters when I step onto the Dock.
Especially during the week.
Dock Six is, like most docks here, primarily a weekender dock. Weekend skippers show up Friday night and leave Sunday night. That means the Dock is largely a ghost town from Monday to Thursday. Hell, the whole marina is pretty quiet for that matter. That makes the Dock a perfect oasis in the desert of the modern middle-class maelstrom. No people, no noise, no drama, no stress.
Look below, and just try to tell me I am wrong.
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