Dean, Drinks, and a Dingo ate my Baby...

Well folks, here it is, the double whammy! My first blog in almost two weeks AND an eyewitness to what it’s like to be miles and miles away from a hurricane. First though, a couple of things to get you caught up with my last couple of weeks. I ate a lot of slop on rice, had more than a few cocktails in the crew bar, worked an ass load of shows, and had a few laughs. There you have it folks, 2 weeks on a ship abridged!

Really though, the highlight of the last few weeks was my trip to Costa Maya. It was my first official “day off” without any training, maintenance, or heavy sleeping to keep me on the boat. I debarked (eh? eh? pretty snazzy ship talk,huh?) with 3 people from my department (two techs and a piano player) and headed directly to the beach. We had to take a 15 minute “zebra bus” (which essentially is a glorified 1980’s troop carrier painted like a zebra) over 3000 or so dirt roads, but the relative discomfort soon became well worth it. The bus dropped us off and we of course had to run the usual gauntlet of natives pushing their wares (“Hola Senor, you want Cuban cigars?”, “Hey big muchacho, you looking for Mexican ladies?”, “Buddy, come buy some useless crap at or above tourist prices”). We were determined to find ourselves a new crew hangout, as some plunker had given the cones a lead on our old place. In recent weeks it has digressed into a Mecca for middle aged guests who want to feel “hip” by buddying up with the staff.

We foraged through the cheap massages, the authentic plastic Mayan sculptures, and the freshly grilled carne de burro with steadfast resolve. About a half a mile down the thoroughfare we came across a place without the usual 7 or 8 people begging us for our business. I have sworn an oath not to divulge the name of this place, but needless to say, we had completed our mission. We had an outstanding time and delicious Mexican beer and food was had by all. Our waiter (who for some reason thought we would believe his name was “Sam”) was absolutely amazing. The man would (without hesitation) sprint towards us every time we looked his way and easily gave the word attentive a run for its money. I won’t bore you with inside jokes, stories sinking boats, or revues of Mexican ladies, but I will post a few select pictures so you can get the general Idea.

I should also let you know that the first “four pack” of pictures is of Belize. This port is a bonafide shithole, but (for some ungodly reason) it does have a phenomenal Chinese restaurant and makes a decent beer (Belican).

Now on to what everyone wants to know (and keeps calling me about), Hurricane Dean. I think it is important to point out that we will miss the storm by ages, but we are definitely feeling its affects. First off, to say the swells are pronounced would be an understatement. To give you an idea, I have ratchet strapped my TV to the mini-fridge and everybody is walking around the ship like the village drunk from an 18^th century Irish novel (I know that was a blatant rip off from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but it works so fucking well). I was out on deck 4 earlier, and I was easily looking at 10 to 15 foot swells. Luckily as watercraft go we are bigger than most, so the hull absorbs most of the impact (which is loads of fun, especially when you hear 3 or four loud crashes ever few minutes). We had to switch shows on short notice because of the rough seas, and from most reports, tomorrow will be worse (we are heading towards St.Thomas and the area dean has already skated through). I am not feeling seasick, but the word around the ship is, the cones are not faring as well.

It looks like Cozumel is going to get clobbered (again) so there is a good chance I may never see it again. There are contingency plans so if a port gets wiped off the map, we just go someplace else. That is really all I have on that subject. I will definitely keep you updated on our situation, but unfortunately I don’t think I’m going to have any harrowing tales from the angry sea. I will try to get better about posting; I just sort of fell into a routine of not doing it and got all sorts of lazy. Sorry again, and I hope to hear from you all soon!

Best wishes,

Seabag

Lazy, lazy, lazy

Lord knows I have really neglected this thing for the past few weeks, but good news; I am halfway through a megapost in Word and have about 7 thousand pics that will go along with it. I have to make the donuts right about now, but I should have everything posted by tomorrow. Thanks for reading!
Seabag

all apologies

I'm so sorry for having nothing for you, gimme one more day...I have so much to say.....heh

Seabag

Also, a certain Mr.Sean Cooney better should have better passed the Bar, god knows I will at some point soon need a good legal team (I can only hope Toth is still available for a few Doobie Bros. tunes and not so much more).

Extra garbage

I couldn’t sleep at all last night so I wandered up to deck four forward around 6am to watch the ship come into port. I wasn’t originally going to share this with anyone, as I really felt it was too…um, I don’t know… I guess I felt this was a really personal moment I wanted to keep in my own archives. After thinking about it, I figured I would let it go for what it was worth. The experience itself was really worth sharing, and even if it let you all into my badly written prose ….. I don’t know, I guess all you really need to know is this really wasn’t mean for public consumption so it is what it is, a very bored seafarer with too many big words floating around his head…

The coast of Costa Maya became visible as a string of tiny uniformed blue sparkling lights and rapid flashes from what seemed to be a lighthouse. The sea was glass, the morning air cool and docile, and the moon illuminated the deck to the point that I could see every weld and inspect every rivet. 9 miles from shore, a small man hobbled to the bow with a quiet reverence. He dutifully hoisted the red, white, and blue from the ship’s mast (the red, white, and blue in this case was the flag of Panama) and was gone as fast as he appeared. 7 miles from shore, the ship cut her engines, coasted to a stop, and bobbed like a cork in the water. We drifted in the night; still, for what seemed like ages. This was a stillness I am not sure I have ever experienced (especially not in the few short weeks I have been aboard). It was total silence; no waves, no engine, no clankity clank of the anchor. The moment was utterly breathtaking in its simplicity.

A tiny skiff appeared in the distance and struggled against the current to meet us. She awkwardly pulled beside us and (in a daring craft to craft maneuver) delivered the pilot who would steer our giant hunk of steel into port. Another eternity passed, which in fact was only the time it took the pilot to embark the vessel and make his way up to the bridge. As the pilot took control, the vessel lunged ahead, full thrusters.

The sun began to rise in the distance and the once tiny blue sparkles began to show themselves as lamp post and other lights began to dot the horizon. I could make out cars traveling in the distance and the beam from the lighthouse danced across the bow every 25 seconds or so. With each passing minute the sun illuminated more, turning the grey sea into a deep menacing blue and then into a vibrant aqua marine. The lush jungle dripped with life. Green with contrasting black, grey and brown; textures you could never imagine when you come from a deciduous forest region.

White beaches provided the juxtaposition needed between sea and land. Thatch huts rose from the shore (and even though in the end they proved to be tourist trap bars) and completed the mental painting that will forever haunt my mind. This was paradise the truest sense of the word.

SPOONS BITCHES!

(more about the Canadian game of spoons later)

Keep it on the reel,

Seabag

A quick update at 4am

I just went up to deck 4 forward to smoke a cigarette. The moon was the back light to the fluffiest and juiciest clouds I have ever seen. The starts twinkled in between each cloud and I was transported into a Magrite painting (without the men descending with umbrellas). The Caribbean Sea glistened in the starlight and an easy starboard breeze cooled my face. This is the reason you spend eight months at sea. Eat your hear our, lake Erie….

Seabag

Two for the price of one

The following are two separate posts written on two separate days. Sorry for the mess, but sometimes these things happen.

(Sunday, 5pm)-

So I get the feeling I am boring the living hell out of some of you. Luckily, I can write that off as my brilliant writing style and my uncanny ability to convey my personal feelings to the reader. There are only so many hours in a day, and trust me, the days at sea are chock full of repetition and a lusting for change.

Last night we had what we call at sea a full on “Brightstar Alert”, which (for all intents and purposes) is code for a very serious medical emergency. By design, there are 2 fully licensed American doctors on board as well as 5 very well trained full time LPN’s. There are a lot of considerations when it comes to the guests’ health, and unless something catastrophic happens, we sail on to the next port.

We did not sail on. One of our guests had a full on stroke and the Captain had no choice but turn tail and head towards the port of Miami. What struck me most about the whole ordeal was the utter indifference on the part of the crew (and I was one of them). A human being had a life threatening (and at the very least, life altering) event, and the crew spent the evening bitching about the fact t we would miss the port of Cozumel the next day. The lot of the entertainment department spent the evening on deck 4 forward smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. I again, was one of them. There is something about living in such close quarters for so many long hours that fosters a very strong “us against them mentality”. You almost get to the point where you feel the people you are serving are almost robots and as long as you stick to the company formula, you have done your part. You have to keep in mind that a lot of these people have been on this ship for over 7 months with little or no days off.

It turns out the guest had a full on stroke which is why we had to make quick tracks back to mainland. He and his luggage were unceremoniously debarked in Miami (during out intro show), no one was really the wiser, and we set sail soon after.

Thanks a lot for smelling almonds (or burnt toast, I forget) Mr. Stoke, way to ruin it for everyone! I had a pretty relaxed week ahead me and to make a long story short we had to reschedule all of the ports of call. I guess it is what it is, it’s not like I don’t have 7.5 more months of this bullshit to deal with, heh heh.

Tuesday, 3:10am

Although I frittered away the entire day in bed, today happened to be a pretty decent day. I slept through the crew tender (Belize does not have a dockable port, so we have to anchor 9 miles out and rely on boats called “tenders” to bring us ashore) so I really didn’t feel any need to get my lazy ass out of bed. In retrospect, I probably needed a good night’s sleep anyway, especially after hearing the anchor going in at 6am (this is much more the ordeal than previously stated, as the anchor room is on the other side of my wall now since I moved). I got up mid afternoon and sunned myself on the forward crew deck. I then went downstairs and had a surprisingly edible meal in the crew mess.

It made it through 2 magic shows without fucking up even one cue, and even though the magician ridiculed Buffalo on stage, I did not crush his head like a watermelon. I did mention after the show that his production singer and fly tech were from the Queen City, and if he wanted to play that game again, I could easily make his skull into a lovely looking seafood salad. I do hope he knows I was joking (or was I?).

After load out (and 30 minutes looking for a stray bingo ball), I made my way to the crew bar. The usual mix of awful European techno and “Latin beats” abounded, but I was in much too good of a mood to care. Luckily they did not play the latest “black eyed peas” album over and over as per usual. I put back a few Strong bows (yes folks, they do indeed have Strong bow) and played some darts with the bass player in the show band ( I bought me a set in Canaveral last Saturday, and I think I have found the hobby I was in desperate need of.) After winning two and losing two, I ended up where I started the day, deck 4 forward.

The stars were absolutely astounding and I again had that feeling of being where I wanted to be. I had a long conversation with the sound tech about the entertainment business (26 years old and she doesn’t think she is a stagehand, and thinks the long hours are bullshit, heh heh heh….welcome to technical theater, kiddo) . I tried to impart any wisdom I had, listened to the young girl from NYC go on and on, and finally had to get out of dodge. As far as days go, I’ll take it.

I have the day off tomorrow so I am getting off this wretched ship and seeing Costa Maya, Mexico. I do promise the lot of you pictures, and I hope all of you are doing well.

Keep it on the reel,

Seabag