I've only been on one cruise (AKA the "Giant Floating Bucket of Vomit") in my entire life, but that was enough.
A week or so after we graduated from high school, most of my class joined about 500 other graduates on a Senior Cruise. We left from Miami, headed to the Caribbean and then back.
It was miserable for a variety of reasons.
There is no drinking age (or maybe it's a lowered one...I don't care enough to check) in international waters, so when we were about five miles out, the bar was open.
So mix 600 or so thirsty 18 year olds with rough waves and hence the name "Giant Floating Bucket of Vomit." (Of course, about three days in, all the booze was gone and a helicopter had to come and drop off some more.)
But along with the memories of the smell, along with all the other reasons, I also don't like ships because I cannot get off them.
Passengers are completely stuck.
If the vacation is not going as planned, there's really no way to leave, unless of course you want to hire massively expensive alternative transportation or just throw yourself off the side.
But people, not including me, love cruises. Many of which dock here during the sunny months.
The Stavanger harbor gets packed with giant boats and the biggest one I've seen thus far is the Queen Mary.
Look closely, she's peeking up over downtown, like some nautical Godzilla.
She's so big, that I couldn't even get the entire ship in the frame without standing in the middle of the street.
These are the lifeboats.*
*Every time I see lifeboats, I think of my friend F.
She's been one of my dearest since we were ten or so and was one of the Senior Cruisers.
Our little gang was sticking together and looking out for each other. Not only was it fun, but the notion of watching out for all the drunk, hormoned men was drilled into our heads, pre-boarding.
But one afternoon, F. disappeared. Once we realized that no one had seen her for a while, we split up and started searching.
I poked my head through the door labeled "No Admittance--Staff Only" and started wandering around. It was the emergency deck with all the lifeboats covered and hanging from hooks.
I called her name, while also exploring a bit.
About halfway around, F. popped her head out of one of the lifeboats where she had been lounging with a new friend and confirmed she was just fine.
Posts
