PART II of the Greatest Cruise Story Ever Told

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Here it is. I saved Part II of the TRUE story of our first cruise for the upgrade to the Ocean View!

For those of you who have not read part I, I am reposting the story. Please read it first and then come back to this thread.

The Greatest Cruise Story Ever Told

Part II

Having survived the harrowing adventure of getting to the ship, my dear wife and I expected the rest of our first cruise experience to be smooth sailing. After all, what more could go wrong? Well….

Looking back at the events I’m about to recount, I realize now that I obviously offended God at some point, and I know exactly when this occurred. It was our first night on the ship. We had aged10 years in the space of 5 hours that day and looked forward to nothing more that getting our real vacation started with a nice meal. Since we were one of the last parties to get on the boat (See part one of this story), we had been assigned the late seating at a table for ten. I really did not mind this. In my opinion, meeting new friends at dinner is one of the joys of cruising (Usually). Several nice people sat with us at the table and the evening seemed it would be enjoyable. Then the ship’s chaplain sat next to me. Now, I teach a great deal of religious history, so having interesting conversations with clergy is easy for me, but this guy would not shut up. Literally, my wife was only able to speak two words to me the entire dinner. Not only would this guy not shut up, but he played with MY silverware the entire time he was talking and, more than once, food shot out of his mouth and landed on my plate. I looked at my wife at one point and the horror on her face told me she had seen everything. Immediately after dinner, we went to the Maitre’D and demanded we be moved to any other table as long as the Chaplain was not with us. We saw another family who had been at our table later in the cruise. They were not happy with us for leaving. Neither, apparently, was God, for our adventure was not at an end.

The first port of call for the ship was Tortola. We had signed up for an excursion to the rock formations/beach on Virgin Gorda (if you have not been, I highly recommend this). The weather was fantastic, the water was calm. Everything seemed to be looking sunnier. On the walk down to the beach, my wife slipped on a sandy rock and flipped on her back. I turned around to find some nice 105 year old man trying to help my wife up. I should mention that my wife is not known to be the surest of foot, so the spill, if you ask her, was one of her better falls. By the time we reached the main beach, she informed me she was not about to crawl over the rock formations to get to the beach on the other side. For those of you who have been on this excursion, you known that the trail through the rocks is not well marked. After loosing the main group while I helped my wife get settled, I entered the rocks alone. I finally neared the end of the path and found a steep rock that must be crossed. There was a rope to help you keep your footing so you did not roll down the rock into the saltwater pool below. I had my new digital camera on the trip and I knew I did not want it to fall out of my hands as I crossed this rock. So I placed the camera in its pouch and stuck my hand through the little strap. As I crossed the rock, I slipped and would have fallen, had it not been for the rope. Unfortunately, as I slipped, my hand banged against the side of the rock, the flap on the pouch ripped open, and the camera rolled down the rock like Homer Simpson down a cliff until, finally…plop!.. right into the saltwater. I slid down the rock, got my camera out of the water, and placed it in my small bathing-suit pocket. As I immerged on the beautiful beach on the opposite side of the rocks, my thigh felt as if it were on fire. I thought I must have been bleeding and did not know it. Nope… apparently batteries, when exposed to saltwater can go into a nuclear meltdown. My camera was searing my flesh. Ahhh, what better way to say “welcome to the islands†than to offer my $600 camera to the sea gods and have OLYMPUS branded on my skin.

That night, my wife and I sat at a new table for dinner and informed our new friends why we had requested to move tables. We also explained we had been pushed by God for speaking ill of the Chaplain. They then told us the entire ship was talking about some poor lady who had almost DIED slipping on the rocks… Yes, that was my wife. Of course, we then had to share the tale of how we got to the ship. It was the only humane thing to do since the ship was obviously going to sink! We, and now they, had been warned.

The next day we were in port at St. Thomas. I was very excited because I had planned out the entire day. I had people give us excellent suggestions for lunch and dinner. We would shop a bit for Jennifer, and then I would go snorkeling. The captain had informed us, however, that we would not be staying in St. Thomas until 10:00 as planned. Our itinerary would need to change. We got into town and finished our shopping fairly quickly. I then got us a taxi to a restaurant way up at Blackbeard’s Castle. That was a challenge, because all the taxis were being taken by cruise people to different beaches around the island. Nobody wanted to go all the way up to the castle. When we got to the hotel/castle we found out that the restaurant no longer opened for lunch. So, we waited for a taxi to be found that could take us back down the mountain.

We ate at a nice place in Charlotte Amalie. Jennifer then said she would like to go back to the ship and nap while I went snorkeling. So my wife went to the ship, while I had the difficult task of finding a cap that wanted to go to the other side of the island. Finally, after 30 minutes of looking for a taxi, I made my way to the other side and had a fantastic time snorkeling. I knew I had to be back to the ship by 5:30 and I knew it was only about 20 minutes to Amalie. At 4:45, I found a cab that was headed back to the ship. I didn’t even mind when the driver picked up another a couple… share the fare! What I did not realize, until we were pulling into the dock for the Disney Ship on which the other couple was cruising was that the Disney ship was docked at the pier on the western side of the city and my ship was ALL THE WAY on the other side of the city at the eastern docks. I looked at my watch and it was now 5:10.

“I told you my ship leaves at 5:30. Are we going to make it?â€Â

“Ya’Mon. No Problem.â€Â

“OKâ€Â

We turned out of the docks, sped down the road, turned onto the main coastal road through town, and STOPPED… rush hour traffic.

The minutes ticked by as we crept along the road. 15 minutes, 10 minutes, 5 minutes and I still can’t even see the ship. Then we turned the corner and there was the beautiful ship. I was going to make it!

And then… we stopped… Construction.

Finally, at 5:29, the driver peeled down the dock and drove me to within 15 feet of the gangplank.

“See. No Problem, Mon.â€Â

As the people above cheered, I ran up to the gangplank and walked through security as if this was all part of the plan. (FYI, this is when I found out about “vultures.†These are the sadistic people who love to watch the gangplank at the “all-aboard†time and see which poor suckers are left standing on the dock as the ship pulls away. Apparently, some of the “vultures†even bet on how many will not make it). When I got back to our cabin, my wife was there.

“Did you have a problem?â€Â

“It was a little close, but I made the ship. Why?â€Â

“I’ve had three phone calls in the last 20 minutes.â€Â

“Really?â€Â

“Yes, ship’s security called and asked if you were in the cabin. Then they called five minutes latter to see if you had decided to leave the boat in St. Thomas. And, they just called to see if I had seen or heard from you.â€Â

“Oh. Well, maybe it was a bit closer than I let on.â€Â

Our dinner companions were laughing when we came to dinner.

“What is so funny?â€Â

“We were just talking about this guy who everyone is talking about. They said he was almost left on the pier. It was the closest anyone had seen. We were just laughing because, with your luck, we thought it might be one of you.â€Â

“Well,†gulp, “it WAS me.â€Â

The jokes did not end for the rest of dinner.

Our next port of call was Half Moon Cay. I would like to report that there were no problems that day. The ordeal was finally over. We were in port the following day and, despite everything, it was a great first cruise.

Wait! I’m sorry. Did you think the story ended there? Guess again.

The last night on the ship, we packed our bags and I got everything ready for disembarking in the morning, including locating my father-in-laws’ keys which I had hidden deep in the bags for safety. (Don’t jump ahead of me people!) We then went to enjoy the final stage show of our cruise. After a nice night, we came back and fell into bed, dreading the morning to come.

The next morning we were getting off the ship. This was painful. You had to wait in your room until your number was called. For us, this meant hanging around in the room with nothing to do and anxious to get on the road. We had decided to stop at Sea World on the way home. When our number was finally called around 10:30, we jumped from the bed, down the gangplank, and on the escalator to customs. That was when I felt for the car keys in my pocket. I felt again, and again. NO KEYS! I must have put them in my bag. So at the bottom of the escalator, we stopped so I could search my bag. Not there! Then I search ALL the bags. NOT THERE!! I must have left the key on the coffee table where I put it last night. I’ll talk to someone in customs.

“I’m sorry, but I need to get back on the ship. I’ve left my keys in the cabin.â€Â

“Then you can’t come through customs. Once you do, you can’t get back on the ship.â€Â

“OK. I’ll be back soon, honeyâ€Â

I’m pretty sure she muttered back, “#@%@$%##&*$%, HONEY!â€Â

I went up the stairs, where I was stopped by an unhappy lady.

“Where are you going?â€Â

“I just have to get on the ship. I left my car keys.â€Â

“You can’t get back on the ship this way.â€Â

“Well, they said I could not go through customs and get back on. So, what you are telling me is I am stuck in some limbo world where I’m not on the ship and I’m not technically in the US because I have not processed through customs?â€Â

“Yep.â€Â

“Could you please just let me one for a minute?â€Â

“No, but I will call lost and found. In the meantime, go check your luggage again.â€Â

“Thank you, so much. It is a single BMW key with a black leather key cover.â€Â

After 10 minutes of me unpacking and repacking, the lady return.“The ship just called and said they had three sets of keys on black key rings.†We were saved. Can you believe the luck?

The lady finally returned after another ten minutes. “OK, which of these is your key?â€Â

“Not that one, not that one, and… not that one. None of these are the correct keys. What am I going to do?â€Â

“Well, customs says we need to start processing the new passengers and they can’t do that until all previous passengers have been processed. You are the last!â€Â

“OK, we will go through customs.†BIG MISTAKE. Once you process customs, the ship acts as if you have left the country. Not their problem anymore. We where now sitting on the curb with the luggage. Jennifer had gone back inside while I, yet again, unpacked ALL the luggage. I had realized, however, that our cabin had been cleaned and may items roomed while we were at the show last night. It was there way of getting a jump on turning the ship over. The keys must have been put in the trash with the other items on the coffee table.

Three times, a guys ferrying passengers on a golf cart drives up on the curb and waits for me to repack the hanging bag so his golf cart can get by me. Meanwhile, my wife is having loads of fun inside the terminal. Since we do not have a cell phone… left in her purse during the “departure†fiasco… she has to use a pay phone inside. That requires her to go through security AGAIN. They are very unhappy letting her through security, in our post-9/11 world, without a ticket for the next cruise. She does convince them eventually. She returns after about 20 minutes to inform me she had found a locksmith, but there was a problem.

“He said that the electric lock on the BMW would have to be drilled out and the lock rebuilt. It would cost about $500 for that.â€Â

“$500! That is another cruise ticket!â€Â

“It gets better. Then he asked me what year the car was. I said, ‘I don’t know. It’s my father’s car.’ He asked, ‘Is your name on the title?’ I said, ‘No, in fact, the last name will not even be the same since I took my husband’s name.’ He then let me know that they could drill out the lock, but if the name on the title was different, they were required by law to call the sheriff. The sheriff’s office would impound the car and, since it was Saturday, we would not be able to get the car out until Monday.â€Â

“AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What are we going to do now? (Pause) We have to call your father.â€Â

“I’m not calling him!â€Â

“It is the only thing we can do.â€Â

After a few minutes… “OK, I’ll call him, but he is going to kill us.â€Â

My wife goes into the Terminal and argues her way through customs, AGAIN.

She returns 10 minutes later.

“What did he say?â€Â

“I don’t know, I had to leave a message. What do we do now?â€Â

“Well, we can’t sit on the curb all day. We have to get a hotel room.â€Â

Now, a poor little guy on a security cart had offered help to me twice already, but I tried to say all would be fine. As his cart approach for a third time, I asked where we could get a cab.

“I’m sorry, but they stopped running out here about 15 minutes ago.†The look on our faces was enough for him to say, “but, I know a guy…â€Â

When the cab arrived, we loaded in and the driver asked “Where to?â€Â

While we were waiting, we had been discussing a sickening thought: What if the car had been stolen? So we told the driver to drive us about 6 rows down so we could check the car. “Oh, thank God. It is still there.â€Â

“That is your car? Did you call me just to drive you six rows over to your car?!!!â€Â

“No. We can’t get in the car. Can you take us to the closest hotel?â€Â

“OK.â€Â

When we got to the hotel, I was told there were no rooms left. It was the same at the next hotel. Then we noticed all the motorcycles around. (Those of you who read part one know what this means.) It is the end of BIKE WEEK! We finally find a hotel with one room left. We drop our luggage in the room and immediately unseal the liquor box. It was time for a drink. What are we going to do next? Then we realized the solution… DELTA DASH! We already knew how this worked, where it was, and even the plane schedule since we had done this a week ago. So we started to look for shuttles to the Orlando airport. After calling a few, we realized it would cost $100-$150 dollars to get to the airport and back. Then we would have to get a cab to the Delta Dash office. Let’s rent a car. Of course, rent a car! After calling several rental agencies, we realized another fact about bike week. Apparently a lot of people rent cars for BIKE week. Finally, one agency had ONE car left. “We will take it.â€Â

“OK, but you do know we close at 2:00.†It was 1:50.

“We are staying at the Days Inn. Can my husband walk there in ten minutes?â€Â

“We are about 2 miles down the road, so I doubt it.â€Â

“We REALLY need this car.â€Â

“Hold on, the last customer was just dropped off by a cab. I’ll see if I can catch him.†(Pause) “He is on his way.â€Â

“You will never know how much we appreciate this.â€Â

Then, Jennifer tries calling her father again. We have got to get the spare key to the airport. Her father answers and sounds way too cheerful. He had not listened to the messages, yet. So my poor wife had to tell her father the whole story. I would say that “mad†is not the word for his reaction. I’m pretty sure he was close to being able to melt the lock with eyes all the way from Atlanta.

He can’t get to the airport. He has a meeting. So, we have to call my parents. My father’s response was to not stop laughing right up until he hung up the phone. To his credit, he did pick up the keys and drive to Delta Dash. Jennifer and I got in the rental and headed to the Orlando Airport. It was a very easy drive this time. We knew EXACTLY where we were going. When we got back, we decided to pick up the car from the terminal lot. NOPE. Apparently, one of the selling points of Port Canaveral is that they lock the cars behind big gates after the ships leave. We could see the car. We had the key. We could not get to the car. We would have to wait for tomorrow.

Sunday morning, the sun was shining and it was a new day. Things had to be better. We picked up the car, dropped off the rental, and jumped on the Beeline for Orlando so as to avoid the traffic at the end of Bike Week. (See, we were learning!) I even had a pocket full of change for all those toll booths. All was going well. We got to Orlando and sailed through all the toll booths. Fifty-cents a pop. I knew exactly what I was doing. At the last toll booth before the Turnpike, I pulled into the “exact change†line knowing it would be fifty-cents like all the others, and I had “exact change.†When I reached the toll machine, I tossed in my quarters. Why isn’t the light turning green? Then I read the sign. This toll is seventy-five cents! I’m out of quarts. I dig in my pocket and pull out a bunch of pennies. I hope this machine takes pennies. I tossed them in… one penny at a time, the machine totaled the change. I was still thirteen cents short. By now, cars were honking behind me. What to do, what to do?

There were cashiers, but they were three lanes over and I would get killed (one way or another) if I got out of the car. So, yes folks, I stepped on the gas with the full knowledge that there was a camera taking a picture of my father-in-law’s license plate because I did not have enough change… yet, again. As a post script, I would like to mention, that it was four months later that we finally confessed to my father-in-law that we had run the two toll booths. He had not gotten any tickets in the mail. But he did tell us that all we had to do was look in the pocket of the door. He keeps a stash of several dollars in coins in there. Great! AAAAAaaaaahhhhh!

You will be happy to know, we made it back safely the rest of the way. When we got home, we shared our story with friends and co-workers who all said that we should never sail again. Both of us agreed, however, that we had, despite all the problems, a great time on our cruise. We loved it! And, yes, we have sailed since then.

But, that is another story…

( For those of you who have not read of the adventure of our second cruise, see the reposting of "The Ferry to Cozumel runs every 2 Hours" )

[cruisetarp]

I have enjoyed both parts of your saga on your first cruise. I must say it is beautifully written and takes the reader along on your adventure.

I hope you luck on future cruises improves.

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Thanks Mary Lou! So far, you are the only cruisecrazy to come see me in my new cabin. Apparently the ocean view is not all it is cracked up to be. I should have stayed with the party group in the insides cabins.

[YellowBird]

I would like to thank you for taking the time to write this long story. I enjoyed reading it and I realize it took alot of your time to do this for us.

[momwig]

Great story - seems like you remembered that Flexible People Don't Get Bent Out of Shape[/size]

[JoeyandDavid]

I loved your story...

PS every time I came by your stateroom your steward says you were out up on deck....

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Thanks, guys.

JoeyandDavid, I paid off the steward to keep an eye out for you. If you want an "exclusive" room, you have to start somewhere .

Joking aside, I'm really glad you guys are back. The Cruisecrazy forum was a bit lonely without you. We all tried, but it just wasn't the same! Lay off those LONG trip, will you.

[rogue]

That was a great story. I couldn't put it down. It is amazing that you actually had the guts to sail again.