The cruise story... part three
Jul. 21st, 2010 09:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
joegodaOnce we were adrift, the world changed a bit. Suddenly there was no rush. Suddenly there was no hurry to get anywhere. The only pressing engagement any day was the nightly dining in the Empire room.
After the muster, Shannon and I wandered a bit more of the ship. There were adjustments to be made, such as getting Logan his soda card, which means putting a sticker on his card so that his sodas, however much he decided to drink, would cost us no more than 32.00 the entire 7 day trip. Quite a savings, considering that is equal to 16 2 liters of anything major brand, and a 16 year old boy will go through that in about 3 days.
This adventure required a trip to the bowels of the ship. Well... not really the bowels, but deck 3, where pretty much everything fun happens. On deck three you had the full sized casino, you had the bar, which was at the bottom of the lift shaft called the Atrium, that full of light 9 deck drop that was covered in brass and hard dark wood and people, my gods the people everywhere.
Customer Services - where you go to dispute or ask questions or just find out where the heck you are - is located to the left side of the ship (starboard) just past the bar. There's probably a reason for this, as the wait to speak to someone at Customer Services sometimes took a bit of time.
We traveled down to this brassy interior by way of glass elevator, which made me think of both the Titanic and Willy Wonka. The elevators were brass and glass and tiled floors and looked like a lozenge moving sliding down tall wall and then sliding back down again. They were constantly in use during the day time and were still pretty active after the day-cats went to bed as well.
So, we tubed down to the third deck, wound our way past probably sixty or seventy people and stood in line for a goodly amount of time to find out that - yes, we could get a sticker for Logan's card and yes, he had to be there to have it done. Logan was off somewhere scouting the interior so he was unreachable. The women at the customer service desk - if there were any men there, I didn't see them - were all tired looking, which was to be expected, and fairly pretty in a Denmark blonde or South African sort of pretty way. I know it sounds odd, but I kept looking for someone who was actually from the United States. I did find them, but they weren't part of the crew proper. One was an entertainment director and the rest were all performers.
Anyway, we decided to wait to catch up with Logan later and spend some time going through the duty free shops. The duty free shops were only open when we were in International waters, which makes sense, because to be duty free, they had to be not affiliated with any entity that would charge a duty - which means tax or surcharge. We wandered around and saw quite a lot of fairly neat stuff, all for fairly reasonable prices and all pretty much outside of what we were willing to spend. The only exception was a watch that Shannon bought me. It cost 10 dollars and as far as I can tell, it was darn worth the price and pretty much what they sell for all over the world.
We could have bought all sorts of jewelry and gee-gaws and knickknacks and all sorts of things there. Whiskey, wine, candy, post cards... all sorts of things. My personal cheap personality didn't let me spend anything, much as I was tempted. Not even for a box of polar bear mints or chocolate penguins. 12 dollars a box was just more than I wanted to spend. Besides, what I didn't spend there, would be spent at the piano bar, listening to our favorite (and only) shipboard piano player - Pete.
5:30 pm rolled around, which was 8:30 pm back at home, and it was time to get spiffed up and go to the Empire room for dinner.
Now, this should have been a simple thing, but see... when people get involved in a simple matter, that simple matter always seems to develop a complexity akin to a force 5 tornado. Here's the deal: The family - Shannon's dad and mom, her brother and his wife and son, and Logan, treasured son and step son of mine- were all seated at table 112 or something. Shannon and I were seated at table 125. OH EM GEE, you would have thought the world had crumbled and the end of civilization was at hand. There was NO way they could have separated us like this! How would we sit together? Well, says someone who wasn't me, we'll get to the bottom of this!
(Me, by the way, tried to inject a bit of logic here. Maybe the tables were seated next to each other... maybe it wasn't so bad.)
After a heated debate with the Matre'd, her brother figured out that the tables were seated next to each other, and the reason it was done like that is because one table seated 6 and the other table seated 2. There wasn't a table that seated 8, you see. So the split was natural. It would also allow the newlyweds to sit next to each other and have a bit of privacy.
And lo- the waters parted and all was right with the world again. It was also decided that the table for two would be swapped every day so a new couple would be able to have the wonderful experience of sitting all by themselves! We, Shannon and I, would sit at it that first night, sure, but then we would give it up the next night for a whole new pair of rear ends.
Okay... let's move past that cynical reparte' shall we, before I start making speeches about folks that make a very large deal out of something very small. I'm not innocent in that myself, so best to shut up now before I incriminate myself.
The Empire Room was a wonderful place, very Napoleonic in style with hand painted murals on the high domed ceilings and sconces everywhere. All the waitstaff were dressed to the nines in tails and starched shirt and black tie, flicking hither and yon between tables and chairs to serve from the right, draw from the left.
Of course, this hadn't quite started yet. Nobody had ordered, because it was First Night! The night when the Captain addresses the passengers.
We made it to our table, way, way, way back tucked into a far corner, next to a window. Porthole? No, this was a window. It even had a window shade to pull down, if the sunlight glinting on the vast expanse of watery grave just feet away became to harsh.
Sure enough, the tables were right next to each other. Close enough to toss salt on. Near enough to pass bread and break wind. Now, keep in mind, this is on a SHIP. No matter how gargantuan the ship may be in my description, everything, everything, everything, was designed for minimum space and maximum efficiency.
See, the Empire Room seats 1300 passengers in a space close to a small town high school's gymnasium. Like the one in Hoosiers, where Gene Hackman is teaching a bunch of Indiana boys how to shoot hoops.
What this translates to is 'Watch your elbow, bub, cuz it's sticking in my ribs' and 'no need to pass the salt, hon. It's already in my lap'.
It wasn't crowded per se, it was just very, very cozy. It was as if the builders of the ship (Italy) thought that most Americans were slender and trim. silly Italians. Still, it was allright, because, you see, it was a CRUISE. To a strange and wondrous land. The land of the midnight sun.
Okay... now I don't really remember what we ate. I do know that there was a lot of it. I do remember that it was very, very good. And I do remember that the deserts were pretty darn good too, especially this thing they called 'Chocolate molten cake'. Ahem. Commonly known as Chocolate cake in a mug, this was the single most requested desert at dinner time. Yes, our little 30 second secret is the biggest hit on the Alaskan cruise! This brought me no end of amusement, let me tell you!
Regardless, it was good, good, good. I know I had fettuccine and chicken. I know I had rib eye steak and I know I had 2 courses of bean soup, and I know it was all very, very good.
And the best part of the entire dining experience was the servers. We actually had 2 servers, as we were two tables.
The first one, a rather diminutive gentleman from Taiwan, reminded me a whole lot of Ming the Merciless. Yes, yes, I know. It's profiling, but I can't correct the thought once it comes out of my brain. His name was Sa Nyguen. Phonetically, it's Sa (short A) and then New-en. Having dealt with American's enough, he simplified it for us.
"My name is San Juan," he said. No. Really. I kid you not, and it does make a sort of sense.
Sa Nyguen was the server for the two person table, and he was a kind and gentle man, sharing stories of his life back in Taiwan and pictures of his wife and two children. If most restaurants had this sort of service in mainland US, there would be a whole lot less dissatisfied customers, says I. He was funny, could do magic (sort of) and had a marvelous and flexible face that spoke volumes with every look.
The other, the server for the larger table, was a younger man, not quite as acclimatized as Sa was, but darn it, he was younger! Still he was very good, and he may have been a bit new, as Sa kept an eye on him and even directed him when it was needed. His name, the younger server, was I Wayn. His Anglo version? John. John Wayne.
Our servers were San Juan and John Wayne. Really. No matter what else went wrong or right on the cruise, I knew that dinner would be interesting to say the least, and if we were ever attacked by pirates, I knew that we would be safe with John Wayne and San Juan.
Now, in keeping with my grumpy, whiny butt nature, I tried to not enjoy myself. I really did. And I failed. Dinner and San Juan and John Wayne were too good. The company was too good. The sight outside the window (ocean- or more correctly Puget Sound) was too good. I was on an adventure. I was having the once in a lifetime time of my life.
After the muster, Shannon and I wandered a bit more of the ship. There were adjustments to be made, such as getting Logan his soda card, which means putting a sticker on his card so that his sodas, however much he decided to drink, would cost us no more than 32.00 the entire 7 day trip. Quite a savings, considering that is equal to 16 2 liters of anything major brand, and a 16 year old boy will go through that in about 3 days.
This adventure required a trip to the bowels of the ship. Well... not really the bowels, but deck 3, where pretty much everything fun happens. On deck three you had the full sized casino, you had the bar, which was at the bottom of the lift shaft called the Atrium, that full of light 9 deck drop that was covered in brass and hard dark wood and people, my gods the people everywhere.
Customer Services - where you go to dispute or ask questions or just find out where the heck you are - is located to the left side of the ship (starboard) just past the bar. There's probably a reason for this, as the wait to speak to someone at Customer Services sometimes took a bit of time.
We traveled down to this brassy interior by way of glass elevator, which made me think of both the Titanic and Willy Wonka. The elevators were brass and glass and tiled floors and looked like a lozenge moving sliding down tall wall and then sliding back down again. They were constantly in use during the day time and were still pretty active after the day-cats went to bed as well.
So, we tubed down to the third deck, wound our way past probably sixty or seventy people and stood in line for a goodly amount of time to find out that - yes, we could get a sticker for Logan's card and yes, he had to be there to have it done. Logan was off somewhere scouting the interior so he was unreachable. The women at the customer service desk - if there were any men there, I didn't see them - were all tired looking, which was to be expected, and fairly pretty in a Denmark blonde or South African sort of pretty way. I know it sounds odd, but I kept looking for someone who was actually from the United States. I did find them, but they weren't part of the crew proper. One was an entertainment director and the rest were all performers.
Anyway, we decided to wait to catch up with Logan later and spend some time going through the duty free shops. The duty free shops were only open when we were in International waters, which makes sense, because to be duty free, they had to be not affiliated with any entity that would charge a duty - which means tax or surcharge. We wandered around and saw quite a lot of fairly neat stuff, all for fairly reasonable prices and all pretty much outside of what we were willing to spend. The only exception was a watch that Shannon bought me. It cost 10 dollars and as far as I can tell, it was darn worth the price and pretty much what they sell for all over the world.
We could have bought all sorts of jewelry and gee-gaws and knickknacks and all sorts of things there. Whiskey, wine, candy, post cards... all sorts of things. My personal cheap personality didn't let me spend anything, much as I was tempted. Not even for a box of polar bear mints or chocolate penguins. 12 dollars a box was just more than I wanted to spend. Besides, what I didn't spend there, would be spent at the piano bar, listening to our favorite (and only) shipboard piano player - Pete.
5:30 pm rolled around, which was 8:30 pm back at home, and it was time to get spiffed up and go to the Empire room for dinner.
Now, this should have been a simple thing, but see... when people get involved in a simple matter, that simple matter always seems to develop a complexity akin to a force 5 tornado. Here's the deal: The family - Shannon's dad and mom, her brother and his wife and son, and Logan, treasured son and step son of mine- were all seated at table 112 or something. Shannon and I were seated at table 125. OH EM GEE, you would have thought the world had crumbled and the end of civilization was at hand. There was NO way they could have separated us like this! How would we sit together? Well, says someone who wasn't me, we'll get to the bottom of this!
(Me, by the way, tried to inject a bit of logic here. Maybe the tables were seated next to each other... maybe it wasn't so bad.)
After a heated debate with the Matre'd, her brother figured out that the tables were seated next to each other, and the reason it was done like that is because one table seated 6 and the other table seated 2. There wasn't a table that seated 8, you see. So the split was natural. It would also allow the newlyweds to sit next to each other and have a bit of privacy.
And lo- the waters parted and all was right with the world again. It was also decided that the table for two would be swapped every day so a new couple would be able to have the wonderful experience of sitting all by themselves! We, Shannon and I, would sit at it that first night, sure, but then we would give it up the next night for a whole new pair of rear ends.
Okay... let's move past that cynical reparte' shall we, before I start making speeches about folks that make a very large deal out of something very small. I'm not innocent in that myself, so best to shut up now before I incriminate myself.
The Empire Room was a wonderful place, very Napoleonic in style with hand painted murals on the high domed ceilings and sconces everywhere. All the waitstaff were dressed to the nines in tails and starched shirt and black tie, flicking hither and yon between tables and chairs to serve from the right, draw from the left.
Of course, this hadn't quite started yet. Nobody had ordered, because it was First Night! The night when the Captain addresses the passengers.
We made it to our table, way, way, way back tucked into a far corner, next to a window. Porthole? No, this was a window. It even had a window shade to pull down, if the sunlight glinting on the vast expanse of watery grave just feet away became to harsh.
Sure enough, the tables were right next to each other. Close enough to toss salt on. Near enough to pass bread and break wind. Now, keep in mind, this is on a SHIP. No matter how gargantuan the ship may be in my description, everything, everything, everything, was designed for minimum space and maximum efficiency.
See, the Empire Room seats 1300 passengers in a space close to a small town high school's gymnasium. Like the one in Hoosiers, where Gene Hackman is teaching a bunch of Indiana boys how to shoot hoops.
What this translates to is 'Watch your elbow, bub, cuz it's sticking in my ribs' and 'no need to pass the salt, hon. It's already in my lap'.
It wasn't crowded per se, it was just very, very cozy. It was as if the builders of the ship (Italy) thought that most Americans were slender and trim. silly Italians. Still, it was allright, because, you see, it was a CRUISE. To a strange and wondrous land. The land of the midnight sun.
Okay... now I don't really remember what we ate. I do know that there was a lot of it. I do remember that it was very, very good. And I do remember that the deserts were pretty darn good too, especially this thing they called 'Chocolate molten cake'. Ahem. Commonly known as Chocolate cake in a mug, this was the single most requested desert at dinner time. Yes, our little 30 second secret is the biggest hit on the Alaskan cruise! This brought me no end of amusement, let me tell you!
Regardless, it was good, good, good. I know I had fettuccine and chicken. I know I had rib eye steak and I know I had 2 courses of bean soup, and I know it was all very, very good.
And the best part of the entire dining experience was the servers. We actually had 2 servers, as we were two tables.
The first one, a rather diminutive gentleman from Taiwan, reminded me a whole lot of Ming the Merciless. Yes, yes, I know. It's profiling, but I can't correct the thought once it comes out of my brain. His name was Sa Nyguen. Phonetically, it's Sa (short A) and then New-en. Having dealt with American's enough, he simplified it for us.
"My name is San Juan," he said. No. Really. I kid you not, and it does make a sort of sense.
Sa Nyguen was the server for the two person table, and he was a kind and gentle man, sharing stories of his life back in Taiwan and pictures of his wife and two children. If most restaurants had this sort of service in mainland US, there would be a whole lot less dissatisfied customers, says I. He was funny, could do magic (sort of) and had a marvelous and flexible face that spoke volumes with every look.
The other, the server for the larger table, was a younger man, not quite as acclimatized as Sa was, but darn it, he was younger! Still he was very good, and he may have been a bit new, as Sa kept an eye on him and even directed him when it was needed. His name, the younger server, was I Wayn. His Anglo version? John. John Wayne.
Our servers were San Juan and John Wayne. Really. No matter what else went wrong or right on the cruise, I knew that dinner would be interesting to say the least, and if we were ever attacked by pirates, I knew that we would be safe with John Wayne and San Juan.
Now, in keeping with my grumpy, whiny butt nature, I tried to not enjoy myself. I really did. And I failed. Dinner and San Juan and John Wayne were too good. The company was too good. The sight outside the window (ocean- or more correctly Puget Sound) was too good. I was on an adventure. I was having the once in a lifetime time of my life.
