Sunday Morning Coffee — August 4, 2024 — Channeling My Inner Vasco da Gama

Horse race handicappers spend hours studying a racing form because past performance is usually a great indicator of what lies ahead for a nag.

Same thing for sports bettors. How a team or player has performed previously makes a big difference on how their money is wagered.

So, if a gambler was to look at some of Andi’s and my past travel adventures, nobody would have been too quick to wager on us completing a six night cruise. Except for one big caveat.

True story number one: On 9/11 I was in Washington DC on business. When word was given to evacuate the city I wound up in Alexandria, Virginia, grabbing a hotel room to wait out the unknown. Television news, among all the chaos, reported that with air travel grounded, and no rental cars on the lot, Amtrak trains were still running. Right away I headed to the Alexandria station. Incredibly, there was a train heading south later that afternoon taking me home to Birmingham, Alabama. Despite being told the train was full, I talked my way on. It was a 16-hour trip, but I didn’t care. I figured the best thing to do was keep moving. It turned out to be a wonderful decision.

Blinded by relief, not so much comfort in that 2001 escape, I became an Amtrak fan. Or so I thought. A couple of years later I told Andi for my birthday the first week of May I wanted to spend the weekend in New York and then take the train back to Birmingham. I’ll never forget the look. Yep, it was that look. I told her no worries; we will do it first class and book a sleeping carriage. We boarded at Penn Station about noon. Our train accommodations had to be aesthetically less appealing than a cell at nearby Riker’s. It was a cement cube. The bunk beds were a surprise. We flipped for it. Heads I win, tails you lose. Somehow Andi got the top. First class included a shower in our compartment, but if you wanted to use the toilet you had to park your feet in the shower. Our ‘preferred’ dinner reservation was at 3:30 pm. Wilmington, Delaware, was two hours from New York and by the time we got there I was pretty sure this wasn’t going to work. I pulled out my Official Airline Guide. The OAG was a road warrior’s best friend in those days and there was a non-stop flight to Birmingham leaving from Baltimore at 5 pm. Availability wasn’t a problem. Baltimore was the next stop after Wilmington, about forty-five minutes down the line. It was now 2:30ish. When I told Andi about the flight she smiled for the first time in two and a half hours. “Want to do it?” “Please,” was the response. We took our feet out of the shower, put some items back in the carry-on and left the train without anyone questioning us. We got home about 12 hours before the train arrived. Cash the under on lasting the whole trip.

True story number two: Sometime around 2005 or ‘06 we took a cruise with my brother Mike and sister-in-law Sue. By then I had graduated to small, luxury ships. But for some long forgotten reason, we took a Princess cruise with about 2,000 people, way above my limit of 1,000 passengers tops. It was as awful as it sounded. Elbowing, kneeing, interference at the buffet— things that would get a hockey player tossed into the penalty box—were rampant. Getting a seat at the pool? Fuhgeddaboutit. Bruised and battered by other passengers there was nothing enjoyable except the next port was St. Croix, and three days short of docking in Miami we bailed and flew to South Florida.  I promised myself never again on a large ship. Cash the under on lasting the whole trip.

True story number three: Our son Scott and daughter-in-law Cayla moved to London in March. My two challenging and mentally fatiguing years as a Las Vegas synagogue president ended June 30; in advance of that I wanted to plan something to get away. A nothing-to-do-cruise was my top choice but we changed gears and decided to visit the kids in London. Cruising Europe once we got to London was still on the table, but I couldn’t find anything that worked with our timeline. So I called DeeDee Rubin, travel consultant and friend, and asked her to look for something I might like. She did, but with the caveat, “This may not be for you.”

Not for me? Come on, who is easier to please than I am? DeeDee found a transatlantic crossing on the stately Queen Mary 2. She warned the ship and clientele might be a bit stodgy for my taste. Stodgy? You mean like being prohibited from calling it a cruise, instead in the Cunard lingo it’s a ‘crossing?’ You mean like two formal dining room nights, tux and gown recommended? If that’s not your thing you’ll be banished to the pedestrian buffet for dinner, wear what you want, because the only people that matter are the ones in tux and gowns.  I asked what she knew about the ship? She laughed. “I can’t tell you the last time I booked someone on it.” Uh-oh.

That’s one big ship.

The cruise line wasn’t one of my favorites, Crystal and Seabourn are, but in fairness I’ve never sailed on Cunard so how would I know? It’s QM2 was big. Very big. Which meant I’d have to drop my large ship moratorium to make this work. My 1,000 passengers or less criteria was out the porthole as the QM2 carries 2,700 with a crew of 1,300. Commissioned in 2004, it is the tallest, longest and widest ship ever built. Not by passenger count but by dimension: 1,132 feet long; 236 feet high and 131 feet wide. Trump can call this boat ‘huge’ and not be subject to fact checking.

Well, I wanted to get away from everything for a week and this was the option. The voyage back to the States left from Southampton U.K., about 80 miles southwest of London, to New York over six nights. I told DeeDee what the heck, book it. Two weeks ago with no place to bail once we pushed off, my challenge became making it work.

I’m no kid anymore but as we boarded our fellow shipmates were old. Looked like some of them got a weekly pass from hospice. Further validating my concern was when we went up on deck to take a peek, most guests were taking pictures with their Instamatics. As darkness loomed, some even used flashcubes.

Being snarky my initial impression was the ship was pretty middle of the road, but it got better as the week went on. Or maybe as the cannabis-infused gummies started to kick-in. We upgraded to the suite level with our quarters now being nothing more than what a $10 upgrade at a Comfort Inn might buy. While the room disappointed the benefit was we had access to private dining rooms, lounges and concierge service, which took us away from potential injury on the buffet lines.

The winds were so strong the outside decks and pools couldn’t be used all week. We traveled at about 24 knots into a very stiff breeze. We were prisoners inside the ship, and at times it felt like being banished to solitary confinement in a library. But you know what? It was okay. I got what I wanted which was a serene week. The $300 WiFi package was a necessity.  I read a lot. Andi found watercolor art classes to her liking. The guest lecturer for the journey was Roger McGuinn, co-founder and lead singer of the Byrds, who gave three lectures with songs and vintage video clips. He was fabulous. The gym was top notch but everyday it got a little less busy. Probably because to get there you had to walk through the buffet intercepting most potential gym-goers. ‘I’ll do it tomorrow’ was a common refrain.

With 15 cocktail lounges spread over the 10 passenger decks it made my decision to buy the unlimited beverage package prudent. Whoever concocted the rules of the drink package must have been on a bender but it worked for me. You could order anything from the bar as long as it was under $12 a pour. Fortunately, both Grey Goose and Belvedere were priced at $11.50 so that was a winner. I must have had too many one night when I wandered into a Friends of Bill W meeting. That was a mistake. A big one.

When we left London we were five hours ahead of New York. We gained an hour a night for five of the six nights going into different time zones and by the time we docked last Saturday morning we were on Eastern time.

We heard all the Titanic jokes that are in the book. In fact, originally we were supposed to pass within 80 miles of the Titanic’s final stop, the iceberg, but the captain told us storms in the area forced rerouting and we couldn’t get any closer than 300 miles. Not kidding but about 90 minutes after that announcement captain came back on and told us there was smoke coming from the first level of the ship but to remain calm. The first level was the crew quarters, sound familiar? Remain calm, eh? Was that the same advice given to the Titanic passengers? We fared better. Whatever the issue it was extinguished within an hour.

The biggest surprise of the journey was on Friday night when the daily program posted there would be Shabbat evening services at 5 pm. We made a decision to attend as we do regularly on Friday nights at home but had no idea how many others would be there. Over 20 people showed up to worship. The cruise line outfitted the meeting room with kippahs, Shabbat wine, challah and for some reason gefilte fish which has absolutely no significance to Shabbat but instead Passover. It would be akin to putting out a plate of cheese for communion. The one thing that was missing was the most important of the event—a rabbi. We sat there for about five minutes, and then someone suggested there wasn’t a rabbi on board, and we needed a service leader. The question was ‘who can do it?’ All of a sudden things got eerily quiet. Andi whispered, “Why don’t you do it?” The sharp left elbow she got to the ribs put an end to that suggestion. Finally, and fortunately, a Jewish Studies professor from Vanderbilt University said he would try but couldn’t guarantee much. He was fantastic, as was his co-leader, a 13-year-old recent bat-mitzvah from Boston. The service lasted about 45 minutes and then we went to kiddish— wine, challah and even some gefilte fish.

It’s pretty awesome and inspiring after docking in New York to walk  out to the balcony of your cabin and have this view.

Demographic of the passengers were British, American, German and Canadian. Older but not as old as I might have originally thought. We met some nice folks— a couple from Germany with an eight-year-old who were going to spend a day in New York shopping and get back on the ship for the return to London. There’s little doubt the kid will now be scarred for life from cruising. And they weren’t the only ones doing the round trip. We met a couple of educators from the U.K. who were going to New York, Washington and Boston for the first time. And the 82-year-old hotel magnate and his wife coming off a European family vacation with their 10 kids and 31 grandkids. After the family went home cruising by themselves probably had a peaceful ring to it.

You know what? The week was actually okay. I didn’t hate it. At 3:30 am on the day we were scheduled to dock at the Brooklyn Cruise Terminal the top decks were packed with Instamatics taking photos going under the Verrazano Bridge. A few minutes later a great view of the skyline of the southern end of Manhattan and then the breathtaking passing of the Statue of Liberty, which an hour later was sitting right outside our cabin balcony. It was the first time we saw lights and land in a week. I felt like Vasco da Gama.

I defied the handicappers. And the odds against. I made it for six days. I really had no other choice so cashing the over really isn’t legit. I wasn’t even fidgety. Would I do it again? Maybe, circumstances dictating. But not without my new cruise travel partner, a tin of gummies. Don’t get onboard without them. Trust me on that one.