Red Tide

Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Papeete, Îles du Vent, French Polynesia
We are looking forward to sea days. There is less pressure. The trip from Wellington to Papeete, Tahiti, French Polynesia (Many Islands) is 2,357 nautical miles (2,712 statute miles) from land to land and will take over130 hours (5.5 days or so) at around 20 miles per hour. We’ll have plenty to do doing nothing.

We again cross both the International Date Line (having February 26th twice—the movie isn’t but should be “Groundhog Day”) and the Equator. Birthdays for Thorsten and David occur but I am uncertain on which day to send greetings. How’s that for stress?

 Incredibly, Cunard cannot find a way to show the Academy Awards broadcast. We have several live television channels aboard so that’s not the issue. The Super Bowl wasn’t a problem for them but the Oscars—arguably a global event as much as was the game—is apparently not affordable. We’re pretty sure about Argo and Daniel Day Lewis and Adele and Tarantino but we wondered about Best Actress and both Supporting Actor categories enough to watch the scroll on the bottom of the Sky News screen to see what happened. I guess Seth MacFarland was a bit over the top. We’re most sad about missing one presenter. A Google alert lets us know that a red carpet photo of an interesting couple moved across the wires but G was unable to download it. Again, the internet aboard Queen Elizabeth is poor even by cruise ship standards. So, we dressed up for the Academy Awards for no reason at all.

 The entertainment aboard ship continues to please us. Well, the “clean” comedian was a bit underwhelming, compulsively fiddling with his tie while letting us know that he lives in Branson. (One tries to escape but can’t) A piano/violin twin sister act is great by G’s standard while I thought they were having us on. If Kristin Wiig and Amy Poehler saw this act they could and would win an Emmy spoofing it on SNL. With a heavy (Italian?) accent, they seemed autistic to me, explaining, “Thee leittle know composer of Sicily, Senor Rigatoni Biscotti, for us composed thees medley of hees most atonal, how you say, moosics which remind us of the springtime following the winter which….” Oh my god, ladies; get on with it. In rough seas, they were the only thing flat about this cruise.

 In my estimation, the New Zealand crooner (Tim Beveridge) was excellent—the best act the ship has so far offered. He actually made the Royal Court Theatre Orchestra sound better (even the trumpeter).

 The same group continues to win every trivia competition, knowing answers that should be unknown. Should anything happen to any of them on the balance of this cruise I shall be the prime suspect in their demise. They remind me of—what was his name?—Ken Jennings on Jeopardy, the guy who won and won and won and eventually it got a bit boring. Imagine having to face him
every day for a month. Wouldn’t you want to put something in his drink?

 The day after the Oscars dawns grey and rainy and rolly. Those who daily line up at the Lido for waffles or omelets are not dissuaded, however. We have all become seasoned sailors with our practiced sea legs sure beneath us as we carry cups (or trays) of coffee in zigzag patterns between tables seeking out that coveted window spot. Amazingly, I have seen nothing spilled nor have I heard a crashing cafeteria tray lost by a stumbling octogenarian diner. On the Queen Elizabeth, the Lido resembles the Queens Ballroom where diners as dancers glide past but never stumble. Passenger heads held high with arms outstretched, the choreography is spellbinding but one secretly wishes for something unusual to happen just to make it more interesting. Imagine a club where everyone is drunk but nobody stumbles as they bluff stability while walking to the toilet. Can you see it? Or, feel it?

 I am blissfully content doing nothing. This is not me; I have been taken over by big brother Cunard who controls my brain.

 Our Daily Programme for Tuesday, February 26, 2013: Day One is titled At Sea En Route To Papeete, French Polynesia and it tells us to set our clocks back 24 hours before retiring. Our Daily Programme for Tuesday, February 26, 2013: Day Two is titled, well, At Sea En Route To Papeete, French Polynesia and it tells us to set our clocks forward one hour before retiring. Inserted into the Daily Programme is a card saying that we are cordially invited to an exclusive viewing of some truly inspirational Original Artwork on Tuesday, 26th February in the evening from 7:30 until 8:30pm. Foolishly, they don’t say which Tuesday, 26th February they mean so we will either be a day early, a day late or, better still, we will skip it.

 (Gloria here…it is late on Tuesday the 26th, the first one, and I am lying here in bed reading last two blogs that will go out with the others yet to come, from Papeete, hopefully. It’s interesting how much we are relaxing. It is much easier to get into the rhythm of the ship. With so many days at sea in a row we find absolutely no boredom, there is not enough time to participate in all that is available to us and we enjoying all that we are doing. Even the occasional hours reading seem just perfect. We love our evening dinners with our new friends. It is such a treat to laugh, over and over, every night, they are funny and bring out the funny in us. Today we met them at the lecture by the ex BA pilot, now flying 747’s with Singapore Air. The talk was great, interesting, humorous and is followed by lunch with our buddies. Again laughter ensues, we are happy. I see Paul relaxed and laughing everyday, I like this person; there isn’t a hint of tension in the man. I got to chat with Mandi for a couple of moments, Henry threw up, but was doing better, and that is all the
time we took to say hello. Internet in Papeete will be welcome, if we find it, I love to talk without the pressure of seeing minutes tick by. I have to say that it’s incredible that while the internet is a source of frustration, I find it amazing that we can be in the middle absolutely nowhere, floating on the Pacific Ocean, and I can dial Denver with one button. Crazy. Our captain, who makes noontime announcement everyday, has been telling us that our ship’s position is “in the middle of nowhere” so who are we to argue? The navigator comes on after him and gives us the latitude, longitude and the depth of the ocean, but as I look around I see no reason to question the Captain, he’s right. We’ve turned our clocks back 24 hours = done nothing, except that suddenly tomorrow is the 26th again, and we will have another day at sea, much like today. I wonder if I shall sleep late? It doesn’t matter, it just is what it is…no pressure) 
 

I would like to tell the story of Mr. William K**ly. I first became aware of this diminutive elderly man when he got into a confrontation with a dining room waiter. Poking his finger into the server’s chest, Mr. K**ly berated him for the perceived slight of not providing wine glasses at his dinner service. The waiter, a congenial sort of man whose efforts to please are unmatched, patiently explained that wine glasses were the purvue of the wine steward. Mr. K**ly would not accept that and loudly berated the waiter telling him, “It is your job. You are the boss of this table. There is no excuse for this. DO YOUR JOB!”

 It has been clear from the beginning of the cruise that wine and wine glasses are, in fact, the exclusive job of the stewards. The glasses are provided if you are buying wine and not provided if you are not buying wine. If they know you are a wine buyer, the wine glasses are at your table when you sit down but if, on that evening, you do not buy wine, the glasses are quickly removed to be stored in a secure spot accessible only to the wine staff. It appears that Mr. K**ly had been bringing his own wine in a hidden container so as to avoid buying it from Cunard or paying the corkage charge that is levied when a guest brings in outside wine. This, remember, is not in the area of responsibility of the waiter he belittled.

 The following day, Mr. K**ly was at the luncheon carvery line at the Lido and, not speaking, pointed at a chicken leg. The server placed the leg on Mr. K**ly’s plate. Mr. K**ly then rudely and condescendingly said, “I want two.” The server placed a second leg on Mr. K**ly’s plate whereupon this vile little man uttered a “hrrmph,” turned and stalked off. Another guest said to his back as he walked away, “You’re welcome.”

 This morning, I was sitting at a two-top at the Lido. These tables for two are arranged side by side along the outside window. On this morning, I sat at an inside table because the adjacent outside table (more preferred because it is next to the window) had been used by a previous guest and had not as yet been bussed. Mr. K**ly sat at that table and, when he saw a busser, he imperiously waved his hand and pointed at the dirty dishes and linen. The crewmember quickly removed the dishes but did not wipe the table down. Perhaps, fearing this man’s contempt, he quickly removed himself to escape the wrath that he exuded. After a couple of minutes, another server walked by and Mr. K**ly again waved at the server and complained, “Your co-worker failed to wipe this table down. WHY DID HE DO THAT?” The server said that, yes, she could see that he had failed to wipe the table down and that she would see to it immediately which she did.

 I stared at Mr. K**ly with a calculated look of disapproving bemusement and waited for him to acknowledge me. After almost thirty seconds he looked at me and gruffly asked, “What are you looking at?”

 “I am looking at the rudest man on this ship,” I said. “I EXPECT SERVICE,” he said. I simply continued my expression and my stare and shook my head at him. He looked away and it was clear to the both of us that our interactions on this cruise had just begun. My contempt for this man will be played out in future meetings to which I now look forward. For each bit of rudeness this man exhibits to the crew I hope to blatantly offer contempt. I will do this for fun. I do not expect that anything I do will change his behavior but I do expect that he will clearly see that some of his fellow guests aboard Queen Elizabeth find him contemptible. I’ll keep you posted.

 Every day at noon the ship’s whistle sounds and a few minutes later, usually five minutes later, the public address system comes to life with the words, “Good Afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen; Here’s the Captain.” Now, this is not someone introducing the Captain saying, “Here’s the Captain,” as if it were a late-night television sidekick saying, “Here’s Jimmy.” No. This is the Captain himself. I love the way he introduces himself: “Here’s the Captain.” But, today, he immediately says, “I need you all to pay close attention to today’s announcement.”

 It seems that someone brought an unauthorized visitor aboard Queen Elizabeth in Wellington. That visitor is the Norovirus. We have gone to “Red Advisory Level” aboard QE with the following notice: “Over the last day, we have seen an increase in the number of reported cases of gastrointestinal illness which are strongly suggestive of Norovirus. We have been informed that Norovirus is currently circulating widely throughout United Kingdom/United States and we suspect that the virus may have been inadvertently introduced on board by embarking guests.”

 So, we will no longer be able to serve ourselves at self-service food locations. The salt and pepper shakers have been removed from Lido tables. Everywhere there is a crew member with a spritz of hand sanitizer. We are advised to wash our hands frequently and thoroughly with soap for at least 20 seconds and rinse them well under running water. This is particularly important, we are told, each time we use the toilet, cough, sneeze, before eating, before drinking and before smoking. We are told to avoid touching our mouths. (Try this for one hour. It is not easy.) We are asked to not use the public toilet facilities but, instead, to use our stateroom facilities. We are asked to use the alcohol hand gels which are located everywhere around the ship. And, should we experience any symptoms of vomiting or diarrhea, we are asked to return to our cabins and call 911; we are not to report to the medical center.

 The virus is easily passed from person to person by touching surfaces such as handrails, door handles and elevator buttons. So, while I am already avoiding elevators I am now tasked with not touching the stairwell handrails when I am wheezing my way from Deck Two to Deck Nine. 

 We are en route to Papeete and Bora Bora where we will offload the Norovirus to the populations of those places. It reminds me of smallpox. Welcome, tourists!

 The sea was calmer today than at any time during our cruise. The sun shone and the temperature was, well, perfect. No land or vessel was visible at any time during the day; there are no birds in the air and, sadly, no whales or dolphin in the sea. There is only the Queen Elizabeth and her
cargo of Norovirus carrying passengers. These second Tuesdays are just chock full of interesting occurrences.                                                            

  (Gloria here…Norovirus is the word of the day. It certainly makes you think about what you are going to do, where you are going to go, like a crowded elevator, what a bummer. It changes the mood of all aboard. We had a great day today, after breakfast a lecture from the 747 pilot on traffic control, I liked it, Paul didn’t. We saw our friend Mark there and went for coffee afterwards. We decided to meet, in swimsuits at the pool, on the fantail and meet up with Mark’s partner    and our fifth dinner companion Gira. We had out own party on deck, the weather was spectacular and the seas calm. Sorry all of you fighting the blizzard part two, I don’t mean to rub it in your faces. We ate lunch outside, we sanitized a zillion times, then around 3-ish I came back to the cabin to finish my book. A short nap followed, I NEVER NAP, only under anesthesia, I guess I’m not usually this relaxed. Now we are showered and ready for dinner. The show tonight is a big singing and dancing event called Vanity Fair, however Karaoke is on at the same time. Karaoke is not for the singers and their great voices; it is for those of us in the audience that find it hysterical. I am betting that we will go from the show to the pub instead of opting for just one entertainment choice. Tomorrow is another day at sea, clocks go forward tonight an hour, probably won’t be getting up any earlier in the morning but we will to make time to enjoy all that this beautiful voyage has to offer, except for the Norovirus. Fingers crossed.)
 






 




 


 




 


 


Other Entries

Comments

2025-02-10

Comment code: Ask author if the code is blank