February 3, 2012
People don’t take temporary vacations from their cruise contracts. Except, apparently, one landlubber from Colorado. There is not a process for you to simply ‘go away.’ Instead your contract is ended, all accounts are squared and you leave the ship. There is no guarantee that you will return.
Except, of course, for the several hundred dollars and valuables I left in the safe, and the clothes and personal belongings still at home in my cabin. So there was no question in my mind or anyone else’s that I would return. But the process would be just the same. There were moments when I felt that I was being drummed out of the corp. I first needed to sign a paper saying that I was voluntarily terminating my contract. For someone who had lived the reality of unemployment for half a year, that was not the most psychologically comfortable moment. Not by a long shot! I then proceeded to payroll and they paid me for the whopping two days that I had worked in the month of February . . . in cash, of course.
Things became distressingly real when they took my APass. This is not only our ship’s debit card, but authorized access to all the secure areas on the ship that I needed to enter. In fact, as crew it is the required identification to re-board the ship. It is your lifeline to this unique way of life, so to surrender it is a very disconcerting feeling. Fortunately, they let me keep my cabin key so that I could proceed to my room, change out of my uniform and grab my bags. Then the previously described immigration process unfolded, followed by a quick trip to the gangway.
Although the trip was not so quick. As I had been on ship only slightly more than three weeks, many crew were befuddled to see me in civilian clothes with luggage in tow. Far too many times I needed to explain that I was leaving for only a few days and would rejoin in St. Maarten. As already stated, this is not a common occurrence resulting, therefore, in even more confusion. Fortunately by then most senior officers knew my status and most wished me well and a quick trip back. As I reached the boarding area, I received a call from Dani in anticipation of my arrival that night in Richmond. While we chatted our hotel director, Damian, walked by. Hearing me talking to Dani, he grabbed the phone and told her that she should appreciate what her old dad was doing for her. That is the kind of quick familiarity that forms in a self-contained, floating, village.
I proceeded down the gangway into the warm Puerto Rico sun to the crew van that was waiting. The bus was promptly loaded with all the sign-offs heading to the airport, many of whom repeated the curious looks and inevitable questions that accompanied my exit while on board. In half an hour we had arrived at San Juan airport. In my mind I kept hearing the Jimmy Buffet song where he speaks of ten minutes in that airport feeling like a day.
But obviously Mr. Buffet has not been there recently. My departure was one of the smoothest airport experiences in years. Both the USFDA screening and the security check went quickly with no lines. At my gate almost 90 minutes before departure, I dropped into a Margaritaville themed restaurant where I celebrated the start of my brief holiday with fish tacos and a Corona, while the aforementioned Jimmy B’s music played in the background. Our plane was fully boarded ten minutes early and we smoothly began our journey back to the continental US.
As I looked down on the harbor from our rapidly ascending plan, I felt a pang of longing as I watched Silhouette recede into the distance. How did that connection happen so quickly?
And the adventure continues . . .
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