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Published: December 8th 2008
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It’s the middle of my much needed nap when the ship tilts so drastically to the side that all of my drawers slam open and my things spill everywhere. Seconds later the emergency PA system turns on with an important announcement from the Captain. A few minutes earlier someone saw what might have been a person fall overboard. Following procedure, we are turning back to do a circle around the area and we must complete a full guest and crew check to be sure everyone is accounted for. It’s chaos as all 4500 people onboard the Carnival Freedom find their way down to the Atrium to swipe their cards and prove they are still onboard. The process takes nearly 2 hours, during which time anyone overboard would have a slim chance of surviving anyway.
I find out that it was actually a few of my friends who were out on the Breezeway having a cigarette when they saw something fly over the railing. Unsure about what it was, they followed procedure and called in the Bravo Bravo (ship code for man overboard).
We finally find what has gone overboard and people are stunned and speechless. It turns out a
guest left something on his balcony and in the windy weather it blew over. It’s no wonder my friends thought they saw a person, as the item that hit the water was in fact a 5-foot stuffed monkey! The flailing arms and life-size head just above the crestline of the rocky ocean was very easily confused for a human.
This is a hilarious reality that can be added to a growing list of stories I have accumulated while on ships, and it’s nothing new for crewmembers. Guests often ask me what is the craziest thing that has happened on my ships? The list includes many medical evacuation situations such as helicopter rescues and emergency turnarounds. It includes stories of people going overboard for multiple reasons including total intoxication, frisky sex, and desperation. It includes disgusting tales of stormy ship-wide seasick barf fests. It includes catching the edge of a hurricane and cruising at and angle so steep that walking is nearly impossible. It includes crew parties of mythic proportions. It includes barfights and teen brawls and even a 17 year old who punched me in the face because I wouldn’t give him a free soda (and spent the rest
of his cruise in the Brig as a result). Yes there is a jail. Yes there is a morgue. Where else would we keep the crazies and dead people? It’s a floating community out here and we have all of the amenities.
When I joined ships I honestly only intended on staying 6 months, one year tops. I even kept all of my furniture in storage, reasoning that a nominal monthly fee for a year was cheaper then buying everything new when I returned. Little did I know this would turn into nearly two years at sea.
It’s a running joke amongst crew members that we always say “This is my last contract, I swear.” I even have the tshirt from a popular crew hangout in Cozumel with this emblazoned across the back. Towards the end of our contracts we are so drained we can barely function, and all we want is a little downtime on land, and the idea of coming back seems impossible. I work 7 days and easily 60 hours a week for less than minimum wage (yes room and board are included, but I wouldn’t celebrate bunkbeds and soggy spaghetti). We can no longer
stomach the idea of smiling at a guest while she complains about the lack of poker tables or whines about the long lines at the sandwich bar or protests about the rockiness (no I cannot make it less rocky. I’ll tell mother nature you have a problem and get back to you). Fill out your comment card, exceeding your expectations is our main goal, blah blah blah… I’m so full of crap sometimes I can’t believe it.
And yet we always seem to come back for “one more” contract. Something about getting a real job and spending 8 hours a day in a cubicle just doesn’t appeal after spending my free time on the most beautiful beaches in the world. We begin to miss the turquoise waters and the hours of strolling through Venice or Cannes or Costa Rica or the Virgin Islands. On land we suddenly find ourselves spending hours on Craigslist trying to find another job that lets us travel, and then we begin to wonder what was so bad about ships afterall…
And yet deep down ship life just doesn’t complete me. At the end of the day I crawl into a bunk bed at
the age of 25, I eat crappy food out of a trough and hang out with many people that I don’t even like but cant avoid because we all live here. Romance is extinct and relationships are impossible. We finally make meaningful friendships and then we have to leave each other within weeks or months. And don’t get me started on the pathetic nature of my paycheck.
After this latest contract I know it’s time to come home. I don’t know how to top 5 months in Europe, I don’t know how to spend a better afternoon off than on the white sand beaches of the Cayman Islands. But it’s time for a bit of stability and believe it or not Carnival Cruises has kicked my need for chaos to the curb. I’m ready to be in control of my own lifestyle and I’m ready to stick around long enough to actually care about the people around me. In two years on ships there are less than a handful of people that I actually keep in touch with, that have made an impact on me. It’s still two years well spent, but I don’t think I can justify much
longer without admitting it’s a gap in reality.
My fellow crewmembers joke that I’ll be back, that after 6 months at home I’ll be itching for the ocean… but I plan to combat this weakness with many visit cruises on various ships with my friends. I can’t promise I’ll settle down or stay anywhere for good anytime soon, but I am ready to be a land-lubber again. I am ready for the next chapter, and as with everything I have ever done in my life, I’m going at it full force with no regrets.
These photos are from my final months in Europe, and include adventures such as my overnight in Rome where we failed to book a room so spent 30 hours on a scooter driving around until the trains started in the morning, mom and em's amazing Italy visit, and other random moments in port
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Lisa
non-member comment
Welcome Home Alaine!!
This entry really struck a chord in me. I know change is extremely, extremely difficult and reality is tougher to escape when your feet are planted on solid ground, but you've always been adventurous, you've always been a fighter and you're not afraid to confront things that rattle you and challenge them head-on. I've always known and appreciated these things about you. I also know that the "reality" you are about to tackle on solid ground will be really hard to confront in a way that you control the outcome and I just want to say that I will always, ALWAYS be here for you- it will FINALLY be possible again to find you in a reliable, somewhat static location, even if it requires boarding a plane to travel across the country to get to you. And I can sleep better at night knowing this. A phone call away is LITERALLY a phone call away, not "it's Sunday, let me try and maybe, MAYBE she'll be on land to answer" The people who have been in your life for years before the cruises still remain and I, for one, am THRILLED to be back in the loop. WELCOME HOME, ALAINE!!!!!!!