California or Bust!

It’s official! I got my itinerary! I leave Honolulu, on United Airlines, Saturday, August 28th 12:45 p.m. I’ve been so excited, I can’t sleep more than two hours a night. My bags have been packed for weeks, but I’ve unpacked and repacked a dozen times.

Today, I’ll have to go through the tedious process of extracting myself from the vessel; filling out forms, obtaining signatures (sigh). My fellow crew members have shocked me with their heartfelt good byes and well wishes, it’s going to be harder than I thought to leave.

I’m glad I pursued this venture, but have NO desire to repeat it. I’ve met some admirable people, learned a lot, and had a few good chuckles, but I’m more than ready to go home!

I’m a little saddened that I’ve got to end my blogging. I kinda like spewing my thoughts into cyberspace. Many thanks to all of you shared my agonies and replied in kind. I’ll see you when I see you - take care!

Lava Shmava

Every Tuesday night (9:45p.m. - yawn) the ship cruises by a live lava flow. Creating the island Liehe. Passengers flock to the see this spectacular natural event. My roommate Dawn, badgers me to go see the beautiful formation of a new island and how gorgeous it all is blah, blah, blah . . .Oh all right, I’ll go!

I haul my saggy-draggy, tired ass up from deck 2 to deck 12, elbow my way through the crowds, and gaze out into the inky night to get a gander at the lava. I see, a bunch of really bright orange lights and tons of smoke. Dawn explains the “orange” is the actual lava and the “smoke” is steam from the lava flowing into the ocean.

oh

Okay, here’s the third thing I know for sure, I’m not a nature lover. I appreciate it, and admit it’s nice and all, but I don’t want to be sleep deprived to take a peek at it!

G‘night!

Aloha Week

A dear friend suggested I take pictures of the islands this week as I say good bye. While a great idea, I don’t actually get to see these islands. One island in particular, Hilo, I’ve never set foot on. I’ve seen a huge rusted building from deck 6, because that is our fire drill day and my muster station faces that side of the dock. But that’s all I’ve seen of Hilo.

Working in Hawaii, on a cruise ship sounds really glamorous. Now, let’s focus on the key word in that sentence ‘working’. There is no sightseeing, relaxation, or culture absorption. You WORK - period. I hear stories about some crew members being able to go to off shore excursions, which are offered to crew at an extreme discount, but these excursions are always offered during my work hours.

NCL does make an effort to have night time excursions for those who can’t make the daytime events. Twice now they’ve offered the same event, bowling and pizza. No thank you, I’m too clumsy to bowl and make pizzas all day long, everyday.

My new work schedule technically allows me 90 minutes to get off the ship in the mornings. Usually more like 74 minutes depending on if the gangplank is ready or if I have to wait for the passengers to disembark first.

The ship docks into a pier which is MILES from anything remotely touristy. I see many 18 wheelers, parking lots and highways. If I walk for about a 1/2 mile I can get to a strip mall. My precious 74 morning minutes are spent trying to get some fresh air in my lungs and natural Vitamin D on my skin, frantically check emails/blog and a tiny workout.

Once, I asked to switch schedules with a co-worker so I could have a Spa Day in Kona. After explaining what a Spa Day was to my supervisor, approval had to be sought through the Executive Chef. After approval, I worked the 3:30 a.m. - 12:30 p.m. shift, dashed to the cabin to shower and change, then wait in the hallway, until crew were allowed to finally board the tender (small boat) to Kona. I was 20 minutes late for my 1:00 p.m. appointment. The appointment takes an hour and then I immediately reboard the tender, back to the ship. Crew have to be on board 1 hour before the ship sails, otherwise you get a free ticket to a Warning Session. The ship sails from Kona at 4:00 p.m. Passengers are already lined up for the tenders at 2:30 p.m.. Passengers are first, if the tender is full I have to wait for the next available. This is a panicky dicey situation and I hate it.

Most evenings after work, I eat dinner, shower and read a book or watch a rented movie. The overnight evenings (Sun/Thurs) I’ll go out to a movie (Sunday) or go out to dinner (Thursday).

Anyhow, I did take pictures of what I see of the islands. I’ll share them with you, this should be mildly entertaining.

Physiognomy

I can’t pronounce this word (physiognomy) to save my life and I hope I’m using it correctly, as it accurately describes what I want to blog. The of metamorphosis of a person’s facial features as they navigate their way through a 5 month contract. Especially their first contract. It’s the “look” of someone’s face that tells you exactly their stage of metamorphosis.

PUPPY FACE: The first week on board every one is bright-eyed, smiling faces, chatty, and full of eager expectations. After the rigorous training, you are finally given a position, complete with uniform and schedule. The look of relief is palpable. You can’t wait to get in the middle of it all, be productive and fit in!

DEER IN THE HEADLIGHTS: Somewhere between week two and four, it dawns on you, management is dangerously disorganized. Management’s attempts to hide the fact, result in constant condescension, threatened with write ups, taunted with “Warning Sessions”, generally keeping you in fear of losing the minuscule privileges you actually have.

Crew members act out or cope by indulging in excessive smoking, alcohol abuse and sex. Sex has many different forms, i.e., nonstop flirtations, sexual innuendoes, vulgarity and random copulating with anyone that stands still longer than 3 seconds.

Those eager puppy eyes have now been exchanged for vacant eye sockets. Their bodies “play act” by going through the motions to maintain some semblance of normalcy. This is unnerving and very disheartening to witness. Typically this is when the majority of people get fired due to over indulgences.

Deer in the Headlights stage lasts the longest until you’ve reached the 45 days to disembarkation. Then you morph again.

ZOMBIE: The acting out or “coping stage” has a vicious back lash. The everyday work day tedium, management’s bullying and overindulgences have literally pummeled the body senseless. Faces have taken on a grey pallor, eyes sunken and your gait is a 29 forward pitch at a rapid clip. My guess is the leaning and fast walking is your meager attempt to move the calendar forward. You’re on auto-pilot. Your auto-pilot has auto-pilot!

You’ve reached a level of deprivation, so deep you couldn’t find your nose if it was bright-red with a bell on it! Your body is crying out in agony. Constant headaches, nonstop cold symptoms, wierd rashes, feet and legs in searing pain. OUCH! You hurt!

Then you have the disheveled, disoriented, confused, “I’m rapidly spiraling out of control” moments. Jay said to me the other day, “Hi Lisa, mattress subtract cauliflower could possibly porcupine.” He had miss-buttoned his shirt, and in his shirt pocket I spied an unwrapped folded peanut butter and jelly sandwich! He wasn’t drunk or high just flat out exhausted. He was leaving in 23 days.

Next you start handing out verbal abuse, like it’s candy to Trick-a-Treaters. Yours truly has succumbed to the verbal abuse. She bellowed herself hoarse, for her co-worker to kiss her derriere! This statement was received with stunned and shocked faces. Fortunately, co-worker didn’t feed into my tantrum, he ignored me. Others have not been so lucky. I’ve seen people howling profanity into trash cans, swinging fists of fury into the thin air around them, wildly kicking a plastic straw, wrestling with crew members over a bottle of ketchup.

We’re a mess.

Name

Heaven knows I’m riddled with enough eccentricities, I should take medication from a PEZ dispenser and warrant a tailor made straitjacket. But, I’m just saying, name your precious child something that won’t invite rocks being hurled at them on the playground.

Granted, Lisa, is as dishwater as a name can get. So I have NO business pointing a finger and mocking someone’s name. What can I say? It was the 60’s, my African-American parents were desperately trying to assimilate, and the daytime soap opera “The Edge of Night” was mainstream.

Since I’m not a parent, I can’ t speak from experience, but I would guess serious thought is given to what you’d name your child. As said name will FOREVER be attached to your precious child. I realize, parents want their child to stand out from the rest and be original, but shouldn’t 98.5% of that be reflected in their personality not their name?

On board, I’ve come across a few humdingers. If given the opportunity I think the parents ought to be slapped twice. If you come from a different country, I expect your name to be a tongue twister and will do my very best to pronounce it correctly and not give you some silly ass nickname. But born and raised in the USA, uh, well . . .

Three dudes on board have begged us just to call them Q. As their first names are so unpronounceable and are too long to fit onto the name badges we have to wear. Shaquetta, Kwanza, Komika, Chajawana, and Sunshine . . . my eyes have rolled into the back of my skull.

Then we the alias. Their first names bore them so they go by their middle names

Thomas now Grant

Robert now Tyler

Richard now Dylan

Can you blame them?

Okay, I have to let this topic go. As I feel petty for bringing it up, but I couldn’t keep silent either. Where'd I put that PEZ dispenser?

Singing in Crew Mess

I have a deep attachment to music. I ALWAYS have a song running through my head. In times past, I’ve been known to break out in song, especially while working. For whatever reason, I NEVER make a peep in this kitchen. In fact, when people stroll through our kitchen, comments are made at how quiet we are. We all just stare mutely at the person and keep whizzing away at our tasks.

Lately, we are all really, really tired and several of us are leaving very soon. One day, I guess to break the droning fatigue, Mikey, starts singing the theme song to “The Jefferson’s”!? Then Chris chimes in with the next verse, I take off with the next and we all chime in together - it’s weird, but fun at the same time! We’re singing LOUD, flailing our arms, snapping fingers, and doing little jigs at our separate stations.

Then a fourth voice chimes in. I’m not paying it any attention, still doing a little shuffle in front of the fryer, singing. Mikey stopped singing and is furiously slinging bok choy onto the grill. That’s okay, Chris and I have got it, were leading up to “We finally get a piece of the pie”. Then Chris stops singing, and is grinning at me like its Christmas. I grin back and keep singing thinking he’s probably digging my vocals!!

The fourth voice ducks his globelike dome around Chris, looking at me and warbles out SUPER LOUD “We’re movin’ on up!” I stopped singing and gawk, it’s Mr. Aloha, Staff Capt. Ron!

As Capt. Ron zips out of the kitchen, I turn to the guys and ask, “How does HE know that song? That TV show was decades before he was born.” While Capt. Ron is an imposing figure, if he’s over the age of 35, I’ll eat my clodhopper shoes.

Minutes later Capt. Ron comes back to the kitchen to tell me he watched that show as a kid growing up. I asked him if he saw it on Nickelodeon. He said no, when it was originally broadcast. I found this incredulous. So I boldly asked, “How old are you?” He said, “41.”

Okay, he’s old enough. I ate clodhopper shoe for lunch that day.

Countdown!!

The countdown has begun in earnest. I’m leaving 8/28. I’ve checked the calendar 8,945,752,303,167 times to make sure the date really exists and it’s not August Fool’s Day, or Leap Year Day or some such nonsense.

Of the 17 people who started the same day as I, seven remain. Whenever, we see each other, we scream excitedly, high-five and shout how many hours/days to go! These exchanges leave me weak and faint. All have gone to HR to check their itineraries for their flights home. I can’t, yet. The overwhelming excitement and anticipation literally makes my palms sweat, heart race, vision blur and sphincter tighten. It’s very, very hard for me to stay focused on the day-to-day “normalcies” when I’m so amped up about going home. To give you an example, lately, ANY open door I see, cabin door, closet door, refrigerator door, bathroom door, a large trunk on its end - open, I immediately assume its an exit and I dart for it!! I’m THAT eager to get home!!

Your last week is referred to as your “Aloha Week”. My Aloha Week begins 8/22. My boss doesn’t know it yet, but he’ll be seeing the back of my head the majority of that week! Especially on Kona Wednesday! I adore Kona! There are so many people/things to say good bye to! My Kona swims, my treasured breakfast spot, my favorite waiter, the Basket Weaver, the locals who swim same time as I do, the “Bobbers”, my favorite esthetician. I’m REALLY gonna miss Kona, it’s a mega cool spot!

ALOHA!!