Atomic Nerds

For most of the U.S., the weather is warming into spring. As the seasons change, many begin to look at taking a vacation. If you are one of these fun-seekers, I have some advice I wish to pass on in hopes of sparing you from the horror and disaster LabRat and I endured two years ago: stay the fuck away from Norwegian Cruise Lines.

The important information now established, let me explain why I feel NCL is an organization comprised of floating buckets of fail and suck.

Two years ago, LabRat and I wound up in the position to take a weeklong cruise to Alaska, via a fairly substantial group discount package, with my parents, grandparents, and originally various other family members for a sort of floating reunion. The other family members got lucky and couldn’t make it after all. Those of you who know us better are already wondering why a pair of near-hermits would agree to sequester themselves in close quarters with thousands of other people and no means of escape short of scuttling charges, and you’re right to do so. Our momentary lapse in sanity cost us dearly.

The first day of the cruise, our instructions were to arrive at the pier in Seattle between 1 pm and 5 pm. We did so, arriving around 1:15. Things went sharply downhill from there. Apparently, the previous passengers had been The Ramones, The Sex Pistols, The Rolling Stones, The Who (including the deceased members), and Spinal Tap as the staff cited cleaning needs while preventing any passengers from boarding. Milling about with a steadily growing crowd, at 4 pm NCL decided the best thing to do would be to simply get rid of us. To this end, they called in busses which took us from the pier to the Seattle Convention Center. In order to make sure we didn’t get any funny ideas about being comfortable, our luggage was collectively taken at this point. Approximatly two thousand people were then packed into a convention room for some sort of Orwellian processing involving assault with stale cookies, and rapidly changing arbitrary paperwork requirements (some had to show passports, some had to show passports and reservation receipts, some had to show nothing, some were stripped and beaten with rubber hoses for looking funny, some had to show canceled airline stubs…). Around 7pm, the first passengers began to leave to bus back to the ship. Despite being among the first to arrive at the pier, we were of course not among the first aboard. The stale cookies were gone well before this happened.

When it was finally our turn to return to the pier, it was close to midnight. By the time we finished standing in the boarding line to go through metal detectors in case we were going to fly the ship into one of the famous Alaskan skyscrapers, again showed our passports, and were searched for any alcohol (to quote Dave Barry, I am not making this up), it was well after midnight. Being gracious hosts, the cruise staff left one of the several restaraunts aboard open, and put some ancient rubbery cheese out for those not vicious enough to secure cookies. If you have never been elbowed sharply enough to lose your wind by a woman a foot shorter, 75 years older, and speaking very belligerent German over a ginger snap, then you clearly have never taken a Norwegian cruise. Again, I am not making this up. The entire boarding process was enough to bring my mother to tears. Having raised me without having to spend her time now in a padded room, I feel it is safe to say that she is not a weak woman. With an optimism surely born of consuming cheese of questionable provenance on an empty stomach, we retired to our rooms, confident that our luggage would eventually arrive and that the rest of the cruise would be smoother.

The next morning worked quickly to dash all hopes from the previous night. Our illustrious and steadfast captain, whom we promptly dubbed “Unintelligible at Any Speed” for the rest of the cruise, snapped the PA on at 6 AM to mutter at us in some Nordic or possibly Germanic language. The announcement still haunts me… “Guten mmrlffeeeengen, this sss mmmpfh glrphs asdfas Norwegian llkagia qwertiop humminafadalaba….” This announcment went on for some ten minutes, at which point a perky voice with an English accent informed us that later that morning we would conduct lifeboat drills, and because of Rules, no food would be served prior to the completion of the lifeboat drills. Please remember, attendance is mandatory and we will be taking roll. Peering into the passageway, we did find our luggage, looking as if it had spent and even worse night than we had, and smelling of cheap gin. At the appointed time several hours later, we went and stood on deck whatever, being herded about in a fashion with no discernable pattern for 45 minutes, and shouted at by people with megaphones standing six inches from my ear. I began to formulate plans of mutiny. LabRat began to look for sedatives to keep me from mutinying. A fellow passenger noticed our dour expressions and chirped something inane and vapid to the effect of “It’s not that bad. You dearies simply must be enjoying this fresh air!” I replied that her personal supply of air would be severly limited if she did not immediately conserve it via vigorous silence.

Eventually, we were finally allowed food. The food, when not eating with my grandfather and his wife, the latter of whom has a personal aversion to flavor so severe as to be truly and genuinely frightening, was the only thing that left our captors in power for the week. Discounting the buffet style restaurant, the food aboard ship was actually good enough that had it been a land based restaurant, we might have visited more than once. Unfortunately, the first meal was at the buffet style restaurant, as the family felt it important to co-ordinate our efforts, or possibly make sure my dad and I hadn’t started the mutiny yet. Previously, I had heard tales of the disdain many Europeans have for personal space. Within five minutes of entering, I had been in close enough contact with approximately a dozen Germans, several English, a handful of French, and a few particularly fiesty Italians, that I still believe I am owed flowers and thank-you cards. The previous night’s cheese had been revulcanized, and joined by eggs roughly the consistency of our dogs’ chew-toys. I will not dignify the meat products availible with specific descriptions. We had cereal.

Assurances made that we would at least wait until we had visited the first port the next day before taking over, we went about our separate business and inspected the ship. We located the various restaurants (accessible by going through the casino), found the bars (accessible by going through the duty free shop) and the recreational facilities (accessible by going through the casino, duty free shop, and souvenir shops). We had a good laugh at the bar when we read the price list, and promptly vowed to simply pick up our own supplies at the first port. At this point, the hospitality of the ship’s staff was merely eyebrow raising. More on this later. After several more Close Encounters of the Germanic Kind, we went back to our cabin to read and begin the first of our five hundred viewings of “Austin Powers,” one of three movies available on the ship’s TV networks. The rest of the day was blessedly uneventful, aside from a few more, ah, interactions with foreign nationals. We learned quickly how to make best use of our elbows. Großmutter wasn’t going to get me twice.

Tomorrow: The First Port.

Posted OK so this one time..., Ranting |