Ice Cold ~ MAX HOWAT

Ice Cold

MAX HOWAT

When the summer rolled around, I left without hesitation. My parents and friends all got half hearted goodbyes as I shot out of my driveway towards the Block Island ferry. Somehow dockboys had become essential workers so the pandemic didn’t affect my plans for my first summer working on Block. When I got off the ferry I saw everything my mom dreaded. People without masks in big groups, people smoking cigarettes, beer everywhere, and loud music. This was gonna be awesome. I went straight for the only place I was familiar with, my grandpa’s boat. His boat had taken up the whole 125 foot slip on the end of Payne’s dock my whole life. I wasn’t allowed to stay on the boat for the summer, because he didn’t support anyone from the family working on Block after what my cousins did. I mean he wasn’t wrong, a boy that was caught stealing from work sharing a last name with the guy that owned the biggest boat on the Island wasn’t the best look. After reassuring my grandpa that I’d try and fix the family reputation, I decided I’d head down to the dorms I’d be staying in. The first thing I saw as I rolled down the scarcely paved road to the dorm was a tall lanky guy with brown hair, red athletic shorts, and a white sleeveless T-shirt standing outside. When I got closer his socks and flip flops became more than apparent and so did a nametag that read, “Hi, my name is James.” James didn’t seem eager to speak. When I said, “Hi, James” in the happiest of ways I received a grunt like response. He then shuffled through the door and brought me to what I could only assume was my room. While I was unpacking my things some dude with long hair, colorful patterned clothes, and a visor busted through the door like the kool-aid man and yelled, “Block Island Baby.” This was apparently Rob. Rob was 22, had been working at the dock for 4 years, and didn’t plan on stopping till the day he died. Rob was from Louissville, Kentucky and had chosen to not go to college because he believed he could make it in the docking business. He introduced me to all of the other guys that worked at the dock and showed me all the places on the island that “tourists’’ would never know about. Turned out he was my roommate, and by the time he had unpacked everything our room was filled with posters of brazilian models in bikinis and his favorite rappers. After not being able to sleep because of Rob’s music pouring out of his headphones all night I had my first shift tying up boats. I got dressed in my collared blue shirt, khaki shorts, and belt while simultaneously running down to the dock in fear of being late. The job was amazing. I understood why Rob might’ve thought he could make a living off this because the tips were divine. Midway through the summer I realized that something wasn’t adding up. How was Rob making money from tips? He just sold the ice. Who the hell would tip someone for selling them ice? Rob was making more money than the Dockmaster himself. When we were on break I ended up asking Rob how he did it. He wasn’t charming enough to persuade people into tipping him. Where was the money coming from? He ended up pulling me into the ice shack, looking around to make sure no one was looking, and we started to wait for a customer. I couldn’t wait to see this. A woman came up with her two kids and asked him for a pound of ice. As he motioned for me to go get the ice from the back of the building I heard him

say a price. A price that caught my attention. That wasn’t the right price, it was a dollar more. It all made sense now. One hundred people had to go in their daily to purchase AT LEAST a pound of ice, sometimes up to twenty. I didn’t know what came over me, but I needed to say something to my boss. I walked out of the shack and straight into the office. I knew what I had to do. The next day the posters and beer cans from my room had gotten on the ferry and left for Kentucky. No more unwelcomed sleepless nights due to music, no more screaming in the room while I tried to read, but most importantly, Rob could no longer steal from the innocent on Block Island. As word got around of my good deeds, my pay increased, and my grandfather’s smile grew by the day. The family that had doubted me revoked their claims when they came out and heard the good things from my boss and grandpa. I was partying and meeting girls from all over the country every weekend while also getting praise from my family. I was the king of the world. As the summer came to a close my whole extended family and I had a big dinner on my grandpa’s boat. My grandpa insisted that I show off my work uniform to the rest of the family. Smiles and laughs echoed around the table for the first time in what felt like forever and it made me feel amazing that it was because of what I was doing. At the end of the dinner my grandpa stood up from his chair and banged his glass with his spoon. “Harry, you have made me so proud. You’ve made it clear that we still have hard workers left in this family, and you’ve proved that to the whole island. I mean for god sakes you’re making more than the dockmaster himself just from selling ice.”