Finally home

 

This is the end. It looks like I didn’t write anything that final full day at sea. Probably because nothing of note happened. By this time one sea day had morphed into a different sea day, with minor changes. Kind of like those stories, where you answer seemingly random questions (Name a color. What is your favorite animal?) and then the words are inserted into a generally funny locations on a story. Each one different, but also the same.

From a clouded memory --

Sleep, coffee, breakfast, cross stitch one final time. Up on 15 the core group was there and one by one we faded away to pack or get the last of our drink package into us. No tearful good byes, but I felt most were genuine. There are three women I’d like to stay in touch with, ‘H’, ‘M’ and ‘T’. I think ‘H’ will be the only one though. ‘M’ lives in Scotland (no not the non-stop yackity one) so it’s unlikely. ‘T’ lives in Granite Falls, an hour away, but we failed to exchange contact information. ‘H’ I do hope we can stay in tough. She is interesting and has a brain, two great qualities.

I went down to the art sales area and presented my gifted $500 off certificate and was informed it was for a Thomas Kinkade painting only, but because I was special, or ??, he’d take $250 off the price. Since it was a ‘Black, black, No takes back’ type of sale, it was better than getting Tasered, but not as good as I had expected. I’m not dissatisfied, it just would have looked better at $250 less.

I looked at my onboard account and found that because of the Onboard credit for missing Costa Rica I had available credit to spend before the end of the cruise when it disappeared into the ether. A friend is a cigar aficionado and said if I found a good cigar to pick him up one. The ship had a cigar smoking humidor room so now would be ideal to use that credit.

Walking it, the first thing that hits is the odor of cigar smoke. Not horrid like stale cigarettes, but still a slap in the face. Plush couches and easy chairs around the room, and glass cases with cigars for sale on one wall. I know less about cigars than I do about whether my president has an innie or an outie belly button. So I shopped by price and if they came in a plastic or glass tube to get them home unbent or crushed. I handed my ship’s card to the sales person and while he was away scanning it, a man on a Rascal scooter almost ran me over. “I want to go there!”. Mind you, I am just standing there with 2 cigars in hand and waiting for my card to come back. Not in a traffic aisle, just off to the side, and this fuck scolds me for being in his fucking way? I mumbled ‘ Sorry, my clairvoyance is broken today.’ and stepped back quickly. Otherwise I’d have had tire tracks on my shoes.

Back at the room, I stuffed 40 pounds of stuff into my 30 pound suitcase, attached the proper stickers and put it outside my door for pick up and disembarkation the next morning.

Morning came and Miami was outside my window. My group was not allowed to leave the ship until 1030, so I was lolling around my capsule of sanity before the crush of people needing to get off, not a second later. A knock at the door, informed me that even though 1030 was my leaving time, it was now get out of the room time.

The center of the ship was crush time with people. Not a single seat available. The bars closed. The restaurant now closed. Just a mass of humans waiting. Then there was the announcement that due to a backlog at the main exit due to government formalities that disembarkation was put on hold. Slowly one by one we were ushered into a different area.

The Rascal scooter guy from yesterday was in a wheelchair, yelling ‘Beep! Beep!’ as a ship’s employee slowly pushed him through the mass of people also exiting the ship. What a cockroach, and like a cockroach in a world wide emergency he’s the one that will survive.

I got to the main hall and saw a wall of people waiting with their passports in hand to see the government officials. I saw a sign “Global Entry”. I have Global Entry, but the online app is only for Miami airports, and I left my card at home. The woman staffing the entrance said ‘Go ahead, the camera knows your face.” I walked up to the camera, the officer said ‘Anything to declare?’ and I was leaving the ship and those passport handed crew mates behind.

Bus to the airport and a 5 hour wait to drop of my overstuffed suitcase with Alaska airlines. A zip through fast Theater or Security since I have Global Entry and now 2 hours before boarding.

The boarding process started and my group to board was early, but not the first. When I got to my seat I realized I made a huge mistake. I was seated in a window seat. I thought on this trip I had reserved an aisle. I climbed over a couple who could remember when Johnson was resident. No, not Lyndon, Andrew !. It’s only 6 hours.

Take off and the flying waitress came by with drinks and crunchy stuff in pouches. The woman of the couple wanted some food and nothing on the plane’s menu suited her highly tuned taste buds. So she reaches into her carry on and pulls out a Garlic Onion Bagel and hands half to her husband. Fuck! This flight is going to be 6 fucking hours !

Not soon enough the Space Needle was out side my window and she squeak of tires on concrete soon followed. I wondered how many wash cycles it too to get the smell of garlic Onion Bagels out of my clothes.

A quick transfer to another plane and home.

It was after midnight so I woke the birds with my noise. The green bird whistled me a welcome home and Dorothy the Wonder bird allowed me to scratch her head, before biting me. Welcome home.

Bed awaits.