Mr Johnson loved living on Staten Island in New York, but the one thing he wasn’t crazy about was the Staten Island Ferry.
If you missed a ferry late at night, you had to spend the next hour or so wandering the deserted streets of lower Manhattan, which was really frustrating, especially when you just wanted to get home and head off to bed.
It got to the point, in fact, where this was driving him crazy. He really dreaded his journey home every day in case he just missed the boat.
So one evening, when Mr Johnson spotted a ferry that was no more than fifteen feet from the dock, he decided he wouldn’t subject himself to an hour’s wait.
He made a running leap and landed on his hands and knees, a little bruised maybe, but safe on deck.
He got up, brushed himself off, and announced proudly to a bystander, “Well, I made that one, didn’t I?”
“You sure did”, the bystander said, “but you should have waited a minute or two. The ferry is just about to dock”.