Barbara J. Hamby

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Atlantic Crossing

After leaving Scotland, Sunday August 28th, our first day at sea, was uneventful. At least I can’t remember much. We may have slept through most of the day. I know we were exhausted. There were a lot of activities all around the ship. I didn’t partake of any of them. I don’t remember exactly which day we did laundry, but it may have been Sunday or Monday. I believe Al went to a comedy show on Sunday evening.

At least a couple of the days out on the Atlantic, the seas were rough. I didn’t move around the ship any more than necessary on those days. Al brought my breakfast to the cabin, as well as dinner once or twice. Al enjoys the rough seas, and misses the rolling of the ships now engineered out of the modern ones. There is more chop and less roll in the big new cruise ships.

On Tuesday, I did some reading and wrote notes on some of our excursions so I’d be able to remember the details when we got home. Al went up to the bridge to hear the captain talk about the ship and to explore up there. That night I attended a big band program where dancing steps were demonstrated. I enjoyed the music, then turned in early.

Wednesday was another leisurely day of reading and writing. Wednesday evening I went to hear the soprano singer again.

On one of the days when the waves were high at sea, I attempted to swim in the small pool on our deck. I could only bounce up and down. Most of the time when water was splashing out of the pool, they kept it covered with netting.

We managed to resist any temptation to throw money around at the casino, in the shops, or, heaven forbid, at the art auctions. Our budget had been stretched a bit by the excursions we took the first week, but we felt they were well worth the cost. Thursday was another relaxing day.

On one of the nights at sea, a spectacular electrical storm lit up the cabin. I lay awake and watched sheet lightning, as well as jagged bolts that appeared to fall into the ocean. The thunder was far enough away that I was not alarmed.

Friday we packed. Of course, as always, it was much more difficult to get our things into our too-small bags than when we had left home. I think Al repacked his several times. Even though we didn’t have to put luggage out Friday night, we had it ready to carry off early on Saturday morning.

As it developed, a few Japanese tourists who did not appear for immigration clearance until several hours after the appointed time, caused all the rest of us to wait impatiently while scattered around the ship. We had been asked to leave our cabins so they could be cleaned. The errant passengers may not have understood the many announcements over the ship’s loudspeakers. No one was released until all had cleared immigration.

Scenic Route

After we left the ship, we boarded a bus to be taken to LaGuardia Airport. Our bus was delayed because one bag had not been delivered from the ship when we were ready to leave. It took somewhere between 30 and 45 minutes to get that suitcase brought to the bus. When we finally got underway, Al and I were not concerned because our flight didn’t leave for three or four hours after we were scheduled to arrive at the airport. We were the fortunate ones.

We were driven through New York on 34th Street to the Long Island Expressway. The young female driver went right past the exit for the airport. I saw the sign and so did a passenger across the aisle, who shouted at the driver. A heated verbal exchange between the two followed. The passenger wanted the driver to turn around. She moved to the back of the bus and yelled at the driver, “If you’re not going to do what I say, you’re on your own.”

When it became apparent the driver was not going to make a U-turn on the crowded expressway, the passenger, in her New Yawk accent, began giving her alternate directions.  The driver admitted she had never been to LaGuardia airport before and had instructions to go by that she apparently didn’t understand.

Eventually, we arrived at the airport. We lagged behind on the bus and let those who had earlier flights get off ahead of us. We still had a long wait for our flight. At least, we left on time.

When we arrived in Atlanta to change planes, our connecting flight was just two gates away. Of course, we had plenty of time. The plane was not very full, so we were asked if we would like to sit in the front row of the economy section behind the bulkhead, which we decided to do. There was more leg-room and that was comfortable. However, no pillows or blankets were available and my window seat was cold. I didn’t want to complain because I was sure Al would drag my bag out of the overhead bin and dig for my coat. Eventually, Al moved across the aisle and I slid away from the window and was able to doze a little.

We got into Portland Airport on time and were met by my daughter-in-law. She drove us to their house where we had left our car. When we got home, I discovered we had left a window open in the kitchen and coffee in the pot, now covered with mold. At least it wasn’t still turned on.