Friday, March 8, we begin to end our journey. That bittersweet process that will require over four days travel time, until we dock in Los Angeles at 6:00am on Tuesday, March 12. This sailing from Kahului to Los Angeles will take 109 hours on an east northeasterly course at between 21 and 22 knots over a distance of 2180 nautical miles (2508 statute miles).

Today, there is but one case of Norovirus and we are told that tonight the ship will return to Code Yellow which means that self-serve venues will revert to their normal state and specialty dining venues will reopen. We have two formal nights, one semi-formal night and then our final night of  "elegant casual" remaining. They always make the final night casual because travelers must pack their bags and place them in the corridors before retiring so that bags can be transported to the hold for disembarkation early the following morning.

Upon departure from Kahului before dinner we went to a magician's show (not too good) and after dinner to the QE Crew Talent Show (spectacular). Mostly, all do nothing much.

The “expert” lecturers on this leg of the trip are not appealing to us. One is sexist and chauvinistic, one is political and pompous and the other is, frankly, boring. Thankfully, there are no more Port Presentations made by the verbose and uninformed Gavin to suffer through. However, in Gavin’s defense, during the crew talent show dance routine we learned that he could perform a fine summersault.

The apparent wind speed on deck is as high as 40 miles per hour so caution is called for when walking.

And now for a story of hand painted war masks. While shopping in Hilo, before their helicopter excursion, Mark and Keith came across a hand painted Polynesian war mask, which struck their fancy. Upon learning that it cost but twenty dollars they snatched it up as a prized souvenir of their voyage. Gloria and I were enlisted to return it to the ship for them—as Sherpa bearers actually—along with other things they had purchased such as t-shirts, their obsessive refrigerator magnets and more while they ventured off on their helicopter rides.

When they returned to the ship, a mask—along with their other purchases—was placed in their stateroom as our promised delivery. It was not the one they had selected, however. Mark questioned why this mask, to him, looked different but Keith defended himself by assuring Mark that there was no way for him to have exchanged the initial one for this one.

The next evening, room service knocked upon their door and, to their amazement, delivered to them the war mask that they had initially purchased. Much laughter was had by all.

The next evening, when they returned to their stateroom, a third mask had been laid upon their bed. More laughter.

The next morning, they received a telephone call from Jonathan, the Chief Purser on the Queen Elizabeth, requesting that they visit him in his office. This usually is bad news such as “your credit card has been denied” or “there has been a death in your family.” But, on this occasion, it was for presentation of another, fourth, mask. Now, along with laughter, we are receiving admiration for our creativity. We swore there were no more masks and all was done.

The following morning, on the daily television program hosted by Amanda Reid, the Entertainment Director, a fifth mask, this one much smaller, appeared in the background of the scene. Nothing was said about it; it was just there.

The following evening, that fifth and final mask—the miniature of the first four—was presented to “the boys” at dinner in the Britannia by a man who happens to sit at the table adjacent to ours. That the man presenting the miniature mask happens to be a dwarf was allowed to speak for itself.

From where did all these extra masks come? Feeling overburdened, Gloria and I decided to repay their earlier imposition upon our good nature back in Hilo by returning to the shop later on that day to purchase three more of these masks along with a miniature one to boot. These are those that we have doled out since Hilo. They have sworn revenge upon us. As we have come to know Mark, his acerbic wit and devilish sense of humor, I’m sure his revenge will be creative.

The final formal night in the Britannia proved to be the coup de gras for not only the journey but for the mask saga as well. Photographic evidence of our caper was recorded. And then, as Mark put it, the ship suddenly lurched and all went akimbo. You must believe your eyes, mustn’t you? We were up very late, laughing the time away.

The food has been excellent and the entertainment has been the best we’ve experienced at sea. In the Britannia Restaurant, there have been eleven nights to dress up in tuxedos and evening gowns, twelve nights to wear suits and cocktail dresses and thirteen more of what they call elegant casual where it is jacket, no tie, for gentlemen and dress, skirt or trousers for ladies but no shorts or jeans for anyone. The amazing thing is that nearly everyone on this ship observes the dress code. On formal nights there are military men ablaze with medals, glistening white evening jackets on others and the occasional Scots in tartan kilts mixed in with the rest of us in black tuxedos. I love it. Those who don’t love it happily dine in The Lido and get to avoid the hassle of formal dress. But, no matter how you measure it, the company made the voyage. There will be those who rave (us) and those who grouse (Mr. K**ly’s table mates perhaps?) Gloria and Paul are happy cruisers.