Last Day at Sea & Getting Off the Ship

 

Thursday, 11/17 - Last Day at Sea

We got up about 7:30 and went to breakfast. John wasn't feeling quite right. I didn't feel like biking in the morning, thought I might do it later on, but never got around to it. John went to deck 8 to read. I went to the Atrium bar on deck 6 to write. Late in the morning, we got in line to settle our account with the ship and went to lunch.

I was hoping we could go to the hot tub, but John wanted to get packing done, and we didn't want to pack wet swimsuits and water shoes, so we went back to the cabin and packed. Despite our 'souvenirs' (4 bottles of rum, a towel and a dress), we still had room in the suitcases. Afterwards, we both went to deck 8 for the rest of the afternoon. John was feeling better by 4:00 and had a mojito, then did some walking.

I don't remember where we had supper, but since we were getting off with our luggage (supposedly at 7:30 AM), we went to bed a little earlier than we usually did.

 

Friday, 11/18 - Getting Off the Ship

Note: Friday, 11/18 - Getting Home has already been ranted about in the blog titled A Rude Return Home, posted on 11/24. I won't repeat the getting home part of the day, but the Getting off the Ship was also an adventure in frustration, so I'll go through that here.

We decided to get off the ship with our luggage with us. We thought we would save some time that way, as well as avoiding the frustration of waiting until our color of luggage tags was called. Little did we know...

We got up at 6 and went to breakfast. We had wanted to go to O'Sheehan's for our last breakfast, but for some reason, it wasn't open that morning. So we probably had breakfast at the buffet.

According to the instructions handed out the night before, those of us carrying our own luggage off got to start leaving the ship at 7:30. What none of the passengers knew was that the ship was late getting into the port, and didn't yet have approval to unload passengers at 7:30. So we—and a whole bunch of other people with their luggage—got caught in a traffic jam that had previously been known as the forward elevator lobby. None of the elevators would go to deck 7, which was where the gangplank was at. The stairs were roped off, so you couldn't walk to deck 7. All the forward elevators were stuffed with people and their luggage, plus (we heard) all the forward elevator lobbies were just as stuffed. Wall to wall people and luggage, and all the crew members were doing were telling us to leave a walkway so people could get through. How? Are we supposed to climb on top of each other until there's room for a walkway? And who's going to use the walkway, when nobody can get anywhere anyway?

Frustration simmered. It might have been easier to wait if SOMEbody had made an announcement that they had hit a snag (pulling into port late) and nobody could get off yet. But nobody had the guts to make that announcement, so frustration simmered, getting hotter and hotter.

Then random crew members started to arrange us in a long line leading away from the elevator lobby, heading aft. Before too long, we met a long line heading our way from the other direction. Now what?

Finally, and still with no announcement as to who was allowed to get off at that time, a crew member removed several chairs that were blocking the entrance to O'Sheehan's and started urging the line to go in there. I thought they were just corraling us up for some reason, but they led the line through the side door to the restaurant, into the theater lobby, and from there we could go out on deck, move a bit to the right, and get on the gangplank to leave. There were at least 3 levels of gangplank before we entered the building. It was kind of like being in the middle of a stampede. John and I got separated, and didn't see each other again until I pulled over to the side as I entered the building, and waited for him.

Not everybody who was getting off with us had their luggage with them, so others must have joined the fray when it was 'time' for them to get off. Again, it might have been more orderly, if somebody had made any timely announcements about that.

When we finally got to the bottom floor, they were yelling instructions about where to pick up your luggage. You were supposed to go to the opposite end of the building, claim your luggage, and come back and get into line. Thankfully, we had our luggage with us.

Before that day, I had thought our luggage was great. Almost too big, for they were pretty heavy once we got them packed (and we still had more room!) They're the kind that has any-direction rollers, and you 'push' them along by holding onto the handle and keeping the suitcase upright. But on that hurried walk down the gangplank, mine seemed to have a mind of its own, and it kept wanting to veer, either towards me or away from me. It almost tripped me several times. I wonder if we had its load lop-sided, with more weight on one side than the other.

Anyway, we got through the line, through customs, and out of the building. And that's when I start narrating what happened to us in A Rude Return Home on 11/24.