March 21, 2021 – A Ship’s Life For Me.

THE THOMS SUNDAY TRAVEL SECTION.

WHERE TO?                       TASTE.                        SEE.

I am coming up on my 34th anniversary of putting to sea as employment, and even longer in hospitality. And it has me going down memory lane.

Not easy with a ship.

So allow me to repeat myself about “the old days”.

People often ask me, now that I am on terra firma, do I miss ship life? Would I go back?

Yes, I do miss it. No, I would probably not go back. Does that sound contradictory?  

Life Upon the Wicked Ship is…

What a glamorous life it must be to always be traveling. I used to hear variations on that theme just about every day when I was working on cruise ships.

There were some great perks. It was like living at Mom’s house.

Someone did the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry. All I had to do was show up for meals and wear the right color shirt on the right day.

And I got money for traveling. Those parts of ship life were great.

Glamorous Travel.

In the 1980s, there was, in my opinion, more glamour upon the waves than today.

The golden days of traveling by steamship disappear thanks to the speedy jet airplane.

But, the steamships were still holding on for dear life, trying to live out their life with a little dignity.

Some did.

Of the 16(?) or so ships on my resume, seven were trans-ocean steamships. I could get a taste of their past glory.

But, as with all jobs, there are some not-so-great parts. Ship life on a steamship usually came with warm crew accommodations.

In one cabin, I could air dry a polo shirt in less than an hour. I was living over the ship’s laundry. You could not go barefoot due to the hot floor.

I often did not have a cabin with a window or even a room to myself.  And sometimes the bathroom was down the hall.

Ship Life Dining.

I was very lucky, the crew messes on the lines where I was working were great. Imagine feeding people from 30 different countries at the same time.

I know people on other lines who would live off cereal or Ramin noodles they would buy ashore.

But try eating dorm food for six-twelve months and you get the idea.

On some ships, I did have dining room privileges if I was eating with guests. They could get more than 20 questions in over two hours… That leaves little time for me to eat.

Out in Public.

As the Tour Director, my face is pretty familiar by the end of the first day. They had seen one of my tour talks or been by the tour desk to ask questions.

If they turn on the travel channel on the ship’s in-house television system, there I am. On many ships, this was my tour talk from earlier, looping and looping and…

Without even meeting me in person, they had a friend in the travel business.

I love sharing the world with guests, but every time I left my cabin, I was “on stage”. It made for some long days.

Living in a Rose-Tinted Fish Bowl.

Also, when I did manage to get a few hours off, I was never completely “off”. Sitting in a taverna, or a quaint restaurant in a hilltown town, it was not unusual to feel a tap. (No, not from the manager asking me to leave.)

99% of the time, people were quite gracious about it. Starting with a “Sorry to bother you” and finishing with a “Thank you”. Some even sent me a glass of wine or a dessert later.

When the Ship Life Hits the Fan.

But not everybody. There was the gentleman on the pier in Dover screaming at me that his private transfer was 30 minutes late.

After calming him slightly, I was able to get his name. Upon checking I saw he did indeed have a transfer for 8:00 A.M. I told the guest it should be there any minute as they arrive early.

And then the “rest of the story” dropped into place. “It’s 8:30 now, it’s late!” he spits out too close to my face.

Guess who did not set their watch back an hour the night before despite the reminders? This included a printed card on the pillow at turndown. I’m still waiting for that apology.  

My Evil Ship Life Twin.

Then there’s the man who came up to me on Cozumel Island quite agitated. I told him that he could get a taxi to Cancun (on the mainland) for about $20.

Not remembering any blackouts or temporary bouts of insanity, I start playing back everything in my talk. Nothing rhymes with Cancun. Nothing is coming up.

I ask him if it was in a talk or at the desk where I had told him this. He loudly reminds me it was last night at the poker table.

As a crew member, I can not go into the casino, and certainly not at any of the game tables.

I try to point this out. He is right, I am wrong and I get a lovely little ping in the comment cards.

Careful What You Don’t Recommend.

Then there was the lady stopping by my table at a restaurant ashore and asking what I was eating. I said I had just finished a lovely shrimp cocktail and was now waiting for my entree. A few other pleasantries and off she went.

Imagine my surprise the next morning when the ship’s nurse called me. She said a guest was insisting I pay for her visit to the ship’s clinic? Why? Because she was allergic to shellfish.

My coffee is not kicking in yet and I am not firing on all cylinders. I have no idea who this lady is. Did she just learn of this allergy? No, she has been allergic for years.

Then WHY would she eat shrimp? (You’re ahead of me on this one aren’t you?) I can still hear the nurse’s voice, trying not to burst out laughing.

Because you recommended the shrimp cocktail at a restaurant ashore last night.

Now I know who this lady is. Ahhh ship life.

Don’t You Work on My Ship?

There was the time, possibly the last time during my ship life, I was visiting a clothing-optional beach.

This was on a Caribbean island at a time when only one cruise ship in town was not unusual.

The ship’s nickname “God’s waiting room” is due to the advanced age of the guests. They are not beach-goers.

To reach this beach, required a 30-minute taxi ride from the pier. Then, walking the length of two coves to reach the secluded third. I had the whole beach to myself.

I had a wonderful swim before covering myself in sun lotion.

My head had not been on the ground 5 minutes before I heard, “Excuse me, are you from our ship?…”

There they were. Three of them in nice shoes, stockings, and simple dresses with purses over their arm.

How long have they been standing there, I don’t know. I can only hope their bifocals made things look larger. 

I hope my mom will be OK with the fact I did not stand up for a lady this time.

I told them the location of the restaurant they were seeking. (where I got out of the taxi.) They thanked me before disappearing behind some rocks.

To this day, I have no idea how they got there. Ahh, ship life.

Which Ship is Which?

And there are numerous instances, some nasty, where a guest starts asking me questions on the pier. After a few backs and forths, I realize we are talking two different “languages”.

“Are you on this ship?” I ask, pointing to my place of employment.

The answer is either “I don’t know,” or they point to another ship and say “No, that one”.

I am happy to answer questions about the port, and I do.

When they start asking about “what time does the (other) ship sail” or “where is their tour” I don’t know. And I tell them, nicely, I don’t know.

Most people take this information nicely, and some even apologize. However, not all.

One gentleman, who kept poking me, just would not take “I don’t know” as an answer.

After pushing me again, and saying he was going to report me, I gave him an answer.

There is no proof of me saying a time after I knew the last ship was leaving port.

I hope he got the spelling of my name right on the complaint card. K-A-R-M…

We Didn’t Think You Meant It.

Then there are the numerous stories, many I have already shared. People come back to the ship with:

• broken bones and road rash from scooter wrecks.
• what remains of a purse strap after the purse is cut off in a sketchy area of town.
• A fake Rolox (not Rolex) watch that is already not working, or other things I warned about.

When I ask, didn’t you hear me warn about doing this exact thing? The answer, “Yes. But we didn’t think you really meant it.”

At least they came back before sailing.

The ones who didn’t believe me when I said “Do not buy drugs,” did not.

Ship life was fun. And I was much younger and resilient.

Intriguing, interesting, eye-opening, awe-inspiring, unbelievable, and these blow glamourous out of the water.

But those days are no longer as corporations are running the cruise lines.

Life at sea is now more like a 9-5 job that goes on and on.

My Ship Life Summary.

I am so lucky to have those chapters in my life. I wouldn’t trade one of my experiences. Good or bad.

But, I don’t think I would want to go back.

I hope I can share some of my experiences with you.

And then, we make some experiences come true for you.

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“See the World” Continued on Page T3.           “Taste the World” Continued on T11.