My owner, Dave, got me after an incident I didn’t know about until he told me what had happened.

He said that a person hid in his boat. (That was the one that was here before me.) The person was bleeding. There were helicopters, police everywhere, but the police did not know where that man was initially, which shows that it was very messy, crowded, and scary.

Dave, when he found the blood all over the boat, had guessed that there was a person in the boat and he called the police, and they came and got him out.

“It happened so fast that there was not enough time to be scared,” said Dave. “I gotta do something other than to be scared.”

That happened one year ago. A few weeks after the incident, Dave got me and I, as I said earlier, did not know about anything.

One day, everyone started coming and taking pictures of me. After I was told what happened, I wondered: “Why are people taking pictures of me? I’m not the right boat.”

I don’t know why they drive down Franklin Street everyday. I think they shouldn’t because I’m not special. I’m just a normal boat that lives at the same house as the one the person hid in.

That’s how I feel. I’m a happy boat living peacefully — well, that is until someone else comes and stops by to take pictures and disturb me, even though I’m not the boat they want to see.

–April 17, 2014–