Hiddenhearth
Earning My Ears
- Joined
- May 16, 2001
Sorry, folks - I am not teasing. I spent extra time down in NY, due to Fleet week. As a Docking Pilot , my jobs included an amphibious ship (like an aircraft carrier), the Coast Guard barque "Eagle", a Danish warship, a Canadian frigate, a US destroyer and a US frigate. Altho I would not have chosen to be working, it was kind of fun to see various warships. It's kind of a treat to be handling this fine-tuned machines after so many slow-going tankers, container ships, and car ships. Imagine after driving a delivery truck around your home town day after day someone gives you the key to a Porsche. With the destroyer (the fastest of the lot), I wanted to burn rubber backing out of the passenger ship terminal, there on the west side of Manhattan - and were it not for my tugs tied alongside the ship, I might have put on a little ship-handling demonstration on the Hudson.
I'm sorry. I digress. You didn't come here to read about ships burning rubber in New York.
We were talking about time, I think. Time really isn't fair. You finally convince your DSO (your Darling/DisneySignificantOther) that a cruise on the "Magic", or the "Wonder", is a vital chapter in life, and before he/she changes their mind, you get the check to the TA, and then - then, you wait. Isn't it like suffering? I waited - I suffered for fifteen months. It was an interminable amount of time.
I spent so many hours over those fifteen months reading these message boards, I am embarrassed to tell you how many. Even my two boys - who are addicts, computer addicts, addicted to the internet - would drop mocking asides as I forced them away from the computer, to get my scanty time on line, choosing once again to read new messages here on these boards.
Knowing where I was going on the internet (DCL, of course!), one son would say, "Oh, no, not again," and the other, "Dad, you've got a problem..."
Maybe I was addicted, too. Maybe I am addicted. What the heck, we're all human. I accept my vices. Could be worse, you know, alcohol or drugs or golf.
What my boys didn't realize was that the awful, awful time of waiting for April 13th and my appointment with the "Magic" was giving me an "out" from my dreary, mundage existence. (C'mon, allow me a little artistic license...)
As bad as the wait was, the wait gave me something to live for. If only Hamlet had it so good.
On the other hand, at the same time, I was worried that I was running headlong into disaster. The more important this vacation was becoming, the higher the anticipation, the greater the fall would be - if things didn't work out.
You know, what if DGP (no, not DisneyGrossProduct - DarlingGrandparents!) DGPs - who all held me responsible for coaxing them into this endeavor - what if DGPs were to get so frazzled by hundreds, maybe thousands of unleashed bratty children - so frazzled that they locked themselves into their cabins, unlocking their doors only for room service from the bar??
What if the wind and seas were so high that DW locks herself in the head (toilet, FYI, landlubbers), the head with the head, on her knees praying to the porcelain god, all the while cursing her not-DarlingHusband, cursing him for conning her into this hell??
What if DSs found that all the games in Quartermasters were all so old that they'd already beaten each and every game back on the computer or Playstation back home??
This responsibility upon my shoulders was building evermore as April approached. And I never told DW this, but I checked the five-day Coastal Marine Forecast each day starting from April 9th on, and was terribly concerned that the National Weather Service buoy sixty miles east of the Florida coast was having a rough time of it. There were high winds out of the east for days, and although the wind was somewhat diminishing - day by day - it was still blowing 20-25 knots on April 12th, with average seas at eight feet. You think I told her this? No way. I just made sure that she had scopolamine. I also brought Bonine, which she kept insisting wasn't any good but which I had good success with, on my worst moments running up and down the East coast on the tugs.
Anyhow, on April 13th, things were starting out real good. Well, at least, at the dock, it was a warm, sunny day. The wind was still out of the east, but I just kept praying that the 964-feet of the "Magic" would hide those eight-footers out there.
And one disaster was diverted by being able to book the Surial Bath on a shore day.
Which brings me to the Surial Bath, which I am getting to, but...
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry - I'm not teasing, but I must get off (DS bugging me). I will continue this straight away. Tonite or tomorrow. Promise. Steve.
I'm sorry. I digress. You didn't come here to read about ships burning rubber in New York.
We were talking about time, I think. Time really isn't fair. You finally convince your DSO (your Darling/DisneySignificantOther) that a cruise on the "Magic", or the "Wonder", is a vital chapter in life, and before he/she changes their mind, you get the check to the TA, and then - then, you wait. Isn't it like suffering? I waited - I suffered for fifteen months. It was an interminable amount of time.
I spent so many hours over those fifteen months reading these message boards, I am embarrassed to tell you how many. Even my two boys - who are addicts, computer addicts, addicted to the internet - would drop mocking asides as I forced them away from the computer, to get my scanty time on line, choosing once again to read new messages here on these boards.
Knowing where I was going on the internet (DCL, of course!), one son would say, "Oh, no, not again," and the other, "Dad, you've got a problem..."
Maybe I was addicted, too. Maybe I am addicted. What the heck, we're all human. I accept my vices. Could be worse, you know, alcohol or drugs or golf.
What my boys didn't realize was that the awful, awful time of waiting for April 13th and my appointment with the "Magic" was giving me an "out" from my dreary, mundage existence. (C'mon, allow me a little artistic license...)
As bad as the wait was, the wait gave me something to live for. If only Hamlet had it so good.
On the other hand, at the same time, I was worried that I was running headlong into disaster. The more important this vacation was becoming, the higher the anticipation, the greater the fall would be - if things didn't work out.
You know, what if DGP (no, not DisneyGrossProduct - DarlingGrandparents!) DGPs - who all held me responsible for coaxing them into this endeavor - what if DGPs were to get so frazzled by hundreds, maybe thousands of unleashed bratty children - so frazzled that they locked themselves into their cabins, unlocking their doors only for room service from the bar??
What if the wind and seas were so high that DW locks herself in the head (toilet, FYI, landlubbers), the head with the head, on her knees praying to the porcelain god, all the while cursing her not-DarlingHusband, cursing him for conning her into this hell??
What if DSs found that all the games in Quartermasters were all so old that they'd already beaten each and every game back on the computer or Playstation back home??
This responsibility upon my shoulders was building evermore as April approached. And I never told DW this, but I checked the five-day Coastal Marine Forecast each day starting from April 9th on, and was terribly concerned that the National Weather Service buoy sixty miles east of the Florida coast was having a rough time of it. There were high winds out of the east for days, and although the wind was somewhat diminishing - day by day - it was still blowing 20-25 knots on April 12th, with average seas at eight feet. You think I told her this? No way. I just made sure that she had scopolamine. I also brought Bonine, which she kept insisting wasn't any good but which I had good success with, on my worst moments running up and down the East coast on the tugs.
Anyhow, on April 13th, things were starting out real good. Well, at least, at the dock, it was a warm, sunny day. The wind was still out of the east, but I just kept praying that the 964-feet of the "Magic" would hide those eight-footers out there.
And one disaster was diverted by being able to book the Surial Bath on a shore day.
Which brings me to the Surial Bath, which I am getting to, but...
I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry - I'm not teasing, but I must get off (DS bugging me). I will continue this straight away. Tonite or tomorrow. Promise. Steve.
I'm enjoying your sharing....can't wait for the next installment
