Last year I was under a lot of pressure, but I was on my way to register for school. I go to John Jay College of Criminal Justice on Fifty-ninth Street and Tenth Avenue. My usual way of getting to school from my house is to park my car by the ferry terminal on Staten Island, take the ferry to Manhattan, and then take the subway uptown.

Well, on that day there was a lot of construction going on around the ferry terminal and I couldn't find a parking space, so I pulled my car onto the boat. I got the first position in the middle slot and they filled up behind me. I got out of the car, locked it up, went upstairs, and had a cup of coffee.

I was looking at what I was going to register for. I was very satisfied with myself. I was early and I would be at the front of the line for registration.

Next thing I knew, time flew by, and we were at the Manhattan side. I feel the ferry bump the slip and I jump off with the crowd. As usual I take the train up to school. I even stop in the cafeteria and have a cup of coffee with a few of my classmates. Then I go to the gym and stand on line waiting for the administration to open up registration.

I'm in the beginning of the line. I meet this young lady that I'm friendly with. She said, "Hi, Bill. What are you doing after registration?"
"I'm heading home."
"Can you drop me off in Brooklyn?"
"Sure."
"Where can I meet you?"
"By my car."
"Where's that?"

I just paused, looked at her and said, "Where's my car? holy shit, I left it on the Staten Island ferry!"

I jump up and flew to the phone. I had to call information to get the ferry terminal number. While I'm waiting for the phone to ring I'm practicing what I'm going to tell this guy when he comes on. Finally someone answers and I said, "I'm with the New York City fire department."
"And you left your car on the ferry, right."
"Yeah, that's me."
"Don't worry, we'll take care of your car, but you better contact your job."
"What's the matter?"
"Well, we saw your fire department identification in the windshield, but when the ferry docked there was nobody in the car so we notified the fire department. They think you've jumped overboard. So you better call your job."

I hung up and called my job. I get the BFI switchboard at fire department headquarters. It's ringing and ringing, but no one is answering. After about 10 rings, someone finally picks it up. I say, "I'd like to speak to Artie Crawford."

"You can't. There's an emergency going on and you can't get through. Call back later."

He's just about to hang up when I say, "No, no, I'm the emergency. I'm the emergency. I know what's going on! Put me through! Please, put me through."

"All the lines are tied up right now. I'll have to run to the back and give him the message."

I wait for him to get Artie up to the phone. I could hear everybody in the background. When I heard Artie pick up the phone I said, "Artie, it's me."

He said, "You all right?"
"Yeah."

Right away, just like a fireman, he said, "You fuckin' moron, you idiot, where the hell - what did you do?"
"I know. I left my car on the ferry."
"Don't you know we have fireboats out dragging the harbor for you? We think your body is in the river. The commissioner heard about it. He's over here now, and he wants to know what's going on."

Well, about an hour later I got down to the ferry terminal and I apologized to the dock master, "I'm sorry. If I remembered it earlier I would have ran right back."

He said, "No. Lucky you didn't come back, because behind you was an out-of-town funeral and they were going to kill you."

I remember that when I was locking up my car on the ferry other cars pulled up behind me. People got out of them, and they were having a big argument.

One guy said, "What the fuck are we doing on a ferry?"
The other guy said, "I wanted to show Grandma Manhattan by the boat."
The first guy said, "I've got to get down to Virginia."

Evidently it was a funeral procession that just came back from the graveyard in Staten Island, and half of them lived in the Bronx and they wanted to travel through Manhattan. The other half of the people wanted to leave right from Staten Island and go down south, and they were pissed off enough being on the ferry to begin with.

The dock master told me that one of the guys from the funeral came up and wanted to know what was going on.

"Well, somebody parked their car, locked it, and left it on the ferry, and we have to wait for a tow truck to come and move the car."
"We don't need a fucking tow truck. I'll push the fuckin' car overboard. I've got a Cadillac."

But they had to wait. I held them up for about 40 minutes until a tow truck came and removed my car. Not to mention that I also held up the ferry.

I had to go to the precinct and pick up my spare keys and my car. But in the meantime, there was a police officer assigned to the ferry boat, and he contacted the fire department.

The department said the guy who owns the car is a fire marshal and he has guns, so look in the trunk of his car and make sure he has no guns back there.

The officer put down the backseat and searched the back of the car and he found my gun-cleaning box. He also found some of our issued ammo. Our ammo is different from the NYPD. We have 110 gram, semi-jacketed, plus P .38 caliber bullets, which are more powerful than the standard police issued .38s. Evidently this young officer never saw this type of ammo before, and he thought they might be illegal dumdum bullets.

When I got to the precinct, at 4:00 in the afternoon, the lieutenant was busy making roll call. I identified myself. The lieutenant called the officer assigned to the ferry to come out from the back. Then he said to the officer, "This is the marshal, give him his keys."

However, the officer wasn't ready to give me my keys back - he wanted to question me about my ammo.

He produced the ammo and said, "What's this?"
I said, "Well, that's our issue." I had some more in the pouch that I was carrying, and I showed it to him. The officer interrupted the lieutenant's roll call and he said, "Lu, is this for real?" The lieutenant said, "Yeah, yeah, now give him his keys and his ammunition and let him go."

Then something else happened and the officer interrupted the lieutenant again to ask him a question.

By that time the lieutenant was steaming. The lieutenant, in front of everybody, said, "Okay, asshole, now give the fire marshal back his keys and his bullets and an apology and get him out of here."

When I showed up for work the next couple of tours there was a price to be paid. In my mail slot was a sardine wrapped in a napkin with a note reading "Billy sleeps with the fishes."

I had Charlie the Tuna signs all over my locker and I was harassed. I'm still being harassed.

The bottom line is that my claim to fame, after 21 years of working in many busy companies and doing lots of exciting things, is to be remembered as the guy who left his car on the ferry. (Fire Marshal William Hanahan from the Peter Micheels book "Heat")

Now it's your turn. If you have a story that you'd like to submit, or have an idea for a story please let us know. Send it to: fdnytales@Fire-Police-EMS.com

Thanks, Ira Hoffman