I have a dilapidated ship and so does everyone I know. We are all floating on the Willamette, preparing for a massive group of foreign exchange students to arrive to stay with us on our barges. The sky is dark with occasional bursts of sun shooting though the clouds like a religious painting. I see a line up of foreign exchange students approaching the ships. They are wearing backpacks and clothes from everywhere. Some are obviously Russian, Mongolian, Chinese, Brazilian. Other's origins are hard to decipher. I talk with one of my co-workers who lives on the boat next to me. We both have toddlers and she is trying to feed hers. My toddler isn't on the ship. Her ship is a mess. So is mine. Then someone, maybe one of the exchange students yells. Look at that wave! We all look. We all see it roiling towards us at rapid speed. I try to grab a few things and escape. I grab a few pairs of pants, a bag, peanuts. Then I realize this grabbing is futile. The wave spills over me, it's heaviness pushes me under, but soon it recedes as quickly as it came. I'm left unscathed. The exchange students stumble around, soggily looking for their new floating homes.
