Wednesday, January 15, 2020

A Day on the High Seas


We woke up one morning to banging and an uncomfortable up-and-down feeling in the pit of our stomachs. Waves, white-topped and threatening, were crashing against the ship. A storm was brewing, the captain announced, so we’d be turning away from that (no more stop in the Azores) and heading for Funchal, Madeira (a Portuguese territorial island) instead. The top-floor buffet was closed. The entertainment was minimal. (Too dangerous, otherwise.) Use the rails at all times. And for God’s sake, be careful, he implied.
     Walking the corridors was an adventure. First, you angled one way – then, if you weren’t paying attention, you found yourself leaning the opposite direction. Barf bags festooned the rails at regular intervals, and trying to climb the stairs was frightening. I almost went backwards on one step when the ship lurched. (We took the elevators after that – but what if the power failed?)
     Lunch (at the only available place on the ship) was delicious, but crowded. A plump lady ahead of us lost her balance, grabbed for a curtain, and it came away in her hands. Down she went. (Fortunately, she was more embarrassed than hurt.) Dishes on the table slid back and forth, and regular crashes came from the direction of the kitchen. (We heard one of the big coffee machines fell, as well as several trolleys. The downstairs main area was a melee of moving chairs and tables.)

     We had some decisions to make regarding excursions, so retreated to the library. Fortunately, I didn’t stand too long in front of the glass cases. A huge bang, and the books literally shot off the shelves, smashing open the glass doors, and forming drifts on the floor. One of the ship stewards started to pick the books up – and they did it again. (Fortunately, they were back on the shelves before the ceiling caved in next morning, and a flood poured in.) The same bang threw me out of my ‘comfy chair’ and sent me sprawling. Tables and furniture moved across the floor, then shifted back again.
     Now you have proof – books are dangerous.

     The Brick was unmoved, in more ways than one. After all, he’d seen much worse during his six years in the Navy. I could also see ship’s employees going on about their business, with no safety lines on. (Though they staggered around inside, just like us.) By suppertime, people were being hustled in quickly to the same restaurant – but the food was good, even if it was served on plastic dishes. (How the chefs and waitstaff did it, I have no idea – they were amazing.) The sliding had become so commonplace that you automatically stabilized whatever was in front of you, whether yours or not.
     We went to bed earlier than usual, and watched some movies. (We’re still fighting to get off Colorado time, which is five hours earlier than United Kingdom time.) The drop, then fight to get back up, was unnerving, even cushioned by pillows. (The Brick thought the waves were 15-20 ft. Have you seen bigger ones? I asked. Oh yeah, f+ ar bigger.) A few seasickness pills, hours of sleep – and the sun was out in the morning. Still a little bumpy, but nothing like the day before. Back to normal – but the ship was heading for Madeira, instead of the Azores. The captain assured us this was the worst. Given the Atlantic’s reputation for more temper tantrums than its Pacifying sister, though, this probably won’t be the only storm we experience during the cruise.

     Strange – I found myself holding tightly onto my glass at suppertime that night, even while I was eating with the other hand. Apparently I was unconsciously making sure it wouldn’t slide.

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Figures...