Drinking Alone on the Staten Island Ferry — A Girl's Guide to Drinking Alone

The open water between manhattan and staten island, aka the new york harbor

The Place: The legendary Staten Island Ferry, specifically the SSG Michael H. Ollis, possibly the most peaceful place to drink a beer in all of New York City.

The Time: Thursday August 13, departure time 3:30pm. I’m on my way home from my mom’s on the 5 train, and I’m so distracted by something inane that somehow I accidentally get off at Bowling Green in the financial district, instead of my stop, Borough Hall in Brooklyn. Rather than wait for the next train, like a normal hapless person, I remember that it’s August and I’m a woman in my 30s with no kids so why not turn my mistake into a CHOICE and drink a beer on the Staten Island Ferry just for kicks! The ferry “bar” was reopened in March after a seven-year-long drought, so it’s my godforsaken right as a New Yorker to crack open a cold one on the SIF!

The Vibe: The ferry itself is a transcendent experience but before I can enjoy a beer on a boat, I have to board first. I get to Whitehall Terminal about 10 minutes before the ferry is scheduled to depart. The crowd forming around Door 1 seems to be primarily children and tourists. I hear many different languages all around me, including the language of “kids yelling while heading home from camp.” By minute four of waiting in this crowd, I’m regretting every decision I’ve ever made, but once the doors open, the crowd crams itself onto the fare-less ferry, and seamlessly dissipates into the bowels of the ship.

As I stroll around looking for the bar, the delineation between locals and tourists becomes stark. Tourists park themselves outside on the decks, waiting to snap pictures of the Statue of Liberty and the distant Manhattan skyline. Locals are inside looking at their phones, like it’s just a regular commute…because for them, it is. So the ferry is really a choose-your-own-adventure experience and I appreciate that.

The Bartender: A woman behind a counter that is mainly a Dunkin’ Donuts with a beer fridge. I expect nothing less and want nothing more.

The Drank: It’s not like there’s a menu so I have to squint to see what brands are available for my ferry beer. When it’s my turn, I make a snap decision and go for a Miller Lite. There are only tallboys available, which, to imply that it takes just a 25-minute ride to enjoy 24 ounces of beer, almost one ounce per minute, is SO Staten Island. Because I famously drink slowly, Miller Lite seems like the most chuggable choice. (Also I didn’t catch how much the beer was, but apparently with tax and tip, my card was charged $6.53. Is the Staten Island Ferry the most affordable bar in New York?!)

Was I Hit On?: I choose to spend my ferry ride outdoors, amongst the tourists. I put my elbows on the banister and the wind whips my hair while I sip my beer and look out at the water, watching Manhattan fade into the distance. I feel alive, euphoric, one with the seagulls. Lady Liberty and I are kindred spirits, beacons of freedom in the middle of the New York Harbor.

I feel so lucky in this moment: to be from New York City, to get to live here, to see this incredible place through the eyes of those witnessing it for the first time. Even the bright orange paint everywhere makes me feel like more of a New Yorker (hey, Knicks in five, right!?) and somehow, drinking a big ass beer on a big ass boat while having this revelation feels so right, and perhaps very New York of me.

Not only am I not hit on, but I exist in a bubble of tranquility that no one can burst. Remarkable, considering I know that when I disembark, I will be on Staten Island.

Should You Drink Here Alone?: Besides being herded like cattle to get on and off, the Staten Island Ferry is quite possibly the greatest way to enjoy a $6 beer in this whole damn town. I have no intention of staying on the island, so I quickly make my way to the ferry that will drop me off in Brooklyn*. But for those 25 glorious minutes, I was king of the world, on a boat like Leo.

*Do you know how clutch it felt that I could just take a ferry back to Brooklyn and avoid the rush hour of the subways at Wall Street? Dear reader, I regret to inform you that your humble blogger was foiled twice in one day by making yet another stupid MTA mistake. I got on the ferry going the opposite direction and wound up in Battery Park City. Again, I made the most of my idiocy and grabbed dinner at the bar at Crown Shy, one of my favorite restaurants. I highly recommend this highbrow-lowbrow combo of a ferry beer before a Michelin-star meal. Just sayin’.