I won't bore you with any more details about the flights, you can imagine easily enough. Fortunately, my suitcase did arrive on time, my ride showed up (Sally, my cousin had kindly booked all my transfers), and he spoke passable English, as my Arabic, is nonexistent. I do appreciate how broadly English is spoken in fairly, for us, exotic climes. My facility with foreign languages (and my editor would say with English as well) is limited to two years of high school French, and Latin, which I was encouraged to take for reasons long forgotten.)
I arrived two days before the cruise with the idea I could look around a bit and adjust for the time zone shift. Sally had booked a nice enough hotel with breakfast included and a bus tour, walk on walk off or somesuch. I walked on, and walked off, at the end, not really seeing anything of interest to explore further and concerned in my bleary eyed state whether I could find their bus stop again had I wondered. Two days passed quickly, mostly in my room sleeping at strange hours, and at times staring at my laptop trying out a few sentences. My brain had hit on something of a vague plot to my novel, which was to be a continuation of the first, so the characters at least were developed. (My editor said "over developed", she was suitably critical in an amicable way.)
My ride showed up on time and drove me to the cruise port. I had not fully appreciated the size of these monster cruise ships, the ICL Rekjavik was truly impressive as we approached, a kind of skyscraper even by Dubai standards laid down sideways and somehow floating. It loomed up over me as I collected my suitcase like, well, it loomed, some 15 or 16 stories into the air.. I looked about and found a queue leading somewhere and ICL workers in blue uniforms directing people hither and yon. Sally had booked me a balcony "suite". "You don't want an inside cabin, you'd get sick, the ocean "view" cabins don't really have much view, I suggest we go for the balcony, but not the club balcony," and I assented, hoping the first book was now selling nicely in stores. And on line. This at least got me into a "premium" line that was shorter, but still long. I noted a line marked "Exclusive" and inquired about that, but the nice Phillipino lady just said "Not for you, stay here, is good." She smiled nicely and rushed off. I could well understand the process for boarding 4,500 passengers was a challenge for them though they did it every two or three weeks. We didn't, and most of us were nearly clueless. Someone had taken my suitcase with a marking for my cabin number, which was 1028, I recalled. I had my papers out, and passport, etc. and in time made it to the check in tables. A rather officious ICL worker there grabbed my papers and passport and asked me some questions I don't recall, stamped this and that, put my precious passport in a box with hundreds of others, gave me a sheet of paper and a plastic card that he explained was my "Cruise Card". "Take special care with it, don't lose it. You'll need it often." Then he brushed me away to deal with the hundreds still in line behind me.
I hoisted my carry on and trundled off to yet another time, this time with a security check They were all very nice, outwardly, and looked somewhat suspicious at me I thought as if I might be sneaking on board some kind of contraband. I was directed to a set of elevators, as we entered on Deck three, and I gather my cabin was seven decks above. The elevators were a mob scene, and being young and healthy I thought, I took the stairs. By Deck 8 I was laboring. "It's the altitude", I thought. "Not enough air." I endeavored to persevere., and finally made it to Deck ten. I turned left on a guess and discovered a passageway that stretched to infinity, none of the marked cabin numbers aligned with 1028, so I turned about to the other infinite passageway on the other side of the ship (I learned it was called "port", like the drink I now needed.).
The passageway was a bit narrow and crowded with ICL workers working and some pieces of luggage outside as yet unoccupied cabins. I started at 1092, and deduced quickly that it was adjacent to 1091 on the outboard side of the ship, and then, well you get it. 1028 was down a ways. I needed the exercise (not really) and in the ultra thin air of sea level (plus about seven decks), I trundled on, "Excuse me", "Pardon me". The ICL workers, stewards I learned they were called, or "pursers" all smiled at me briefly and went back to work. It was a veritable hive, if you can forgive my penchant for metaphor. Or simile, I get them confused still. Or so my editor claims.
I finally some hours later reach a cabin marked 1028 and happily note my suitcase outside, and scan my cruise key card to open the door to check things out.
There in came the shock of a lifetime. Inside was a lady, obviously unpacking her things, in my cabin? She screamed. I wasn't sure what I did beyond backing out rather quickly.
"Merde! Merde! Merde", she exclaimed, one of the few French words I had retained from high school. I stood blankly in the corridor looking at my suitcase and key card, and a purser came up.
"Sir, I am Eduardo, your cabin purser, is there a problem?"
TBC
