The Journey Ends
Part 30
Well, here we are -- the end of the trip. It had to end, which is a problem shared by all good things. I hope you aren’t expecting much in the way of cruise stories in this particular installment, as all we have left to do is get off the ship.
Friday, November 1, 2003
It seemed that as soon as I closed my eyes to sleep, the alarm was going off
to wake us up. I have no idea how late Ryan was out celebrating Halloween,
but he seemed no worse for wear.
A quick look outside revealed that we had indeed come full circle. Miami was
going about its early morning business. The day looked rather foreboding,
and I hoped we’d fly out before the thunderstorms arrived.
We cleaned up and dressed for the early winter weather that awaited each of
us at the other end of the day. November first marks the unofficial beginning
of the long New Hampshire winter. In an email, Kris mentioned that it had
snowed more than once since I left just a week earlier.
“Are you all packed up?”
“Yup,” replied Ryan.
“Sure you got everything?”
“Yup.”
I swept through the cabin checking drawers and closets. I found several things
belonging to Ryan.
“Don’t you want these things anymore?”
“Oh, yeah…Thanks.”
I repeated the process, checking every nook and cranny. Under Ryan’s bed,
I found a nest of snake-like objects. Like the skunk, these things used odor
as a defensive weapon.
“How ‘bout all these socks? Aren’t you going to take them?”
“I guess so,” came the none-too-sure response. It might have been better to
abandon them altogether, but I hadn’t tipped enough to cover hazardous material
handling.
We were supposed to vacate the room no later than 8:30. By 8:00, everything
was packed and ready to go. We made our way topside, picked up some food and
coffee and sat out on the rear deck. There were very few people in evidence
anywhere. The Majesty of the Seas sat immediately behind us, just where she
had been at the beginning of the trip.
Over the top of the Cruise Terminal, I spotted the RCI logo adorning the side
of a building just a few blocks away. I presume it marked the location of
the corporate headquarters for Celebrity as well. I was still mystified over
the failure of “Mr. M” to appear on the cruise or make contact in any way,
and seriously considered walking over to introduce myself to both he and “Ms.
M”, the Director of Marketing who first contacted me about making the Mercury
trip. I’m not sure what stopped me – chicken, I guess.
The PA system came to life, and began announcing ticket colors for disembarkation.
Thinking back, I don’t recall hearing the PA at any other time except to announce
the muster drill a week earlier. Although a lot of color codes were announced
before ours, we became eligible to leave the ship no later than 8:30.
“We’d better go,” said Ryan. He seemed concerned that I hadn’t jumped to attention
when our color was called.
“Nope. I’m staying right here for another cup of coffee.”
“O.K., I’ll get some more food then”
“Absolutely. Go for it,” I answered. I knew right then that Ryan had become
a cruise veteran. The young learn quickly…
We took our sweet time. It was probably only about ten minutes, but it was
deeply relaxing. We made our way to the exit, again seeing very few people.
Inside the terminal, we were directed to an airport-style baggage conveyor.
Our luggage was probably dizzy from a lot of extra trips around, but we retrieved
it quickly and easily.
A guard at the exit made a cursory check of our claim tags, and seconds later
we were on the street. Celebrity employees were stationed at strategic intervals
to direct us a couple of hundred feet to the waiting busses.
We got caught in some rush-hour traffic on the way to the airport, but still
made it hours before our scheduled departures. Ryan and I sat outside the
terminal building inhaling diesel fumes – it was too nice a day to sit inside,
and we both knew what awaited us at the other end of the trip – normal life
in a frozen world devoid of color.
Ryan’s flight left first, sometime around 11:00.
“O.K., dad. I guess this is it.”
“Would you do it again?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. I have some friends who would really love to go on a trip like that.
They probably won’t believe me, though. I’m gonna save up.”
My flight didn’t depart for another two and a half hours. I continued to sit
outside until it was time for me to leave, standing every so often to let
my butt wake up. This would be a long day, and I went over the clockwork schedule
in my head:
1:35 - Take off from Miami
4:52 - Arrive Boston
5:05 - Find “Big John” and the Towncar outside the terminal
5:10 - Relax for the rush-hour ride to Londonderry
6:30ish - Have John drop me off at Londonderry High School, find Kris’s car in the parking lot and stow my baggage.
6:45 - Rush up to the press booth at the football field and take my place at a camera for the CATV broadcast.
7:00 - Watch son Wells play football on the 3” LCD screen attached to the camera.
9:30 - Help pack up the video equipment
10:15 - Go home
10:25 - Make a drink
10:30 ‘til whenever - Tell stories and answer questions
I missed the game the previous Friday and felt badly about it. In an email,
Kris told me that Wells had scored a touchdown and played well at linebacker.
I took my medication about 2 hours before departure. Next thing I knew, it
was 5:00 p.m., and I was struggling with my luggage heading toward the exit
of Terminal B at Logan. I can only assume that I got there by plane…
The automatic door hissed at me, perhaps as a warning to stay inside. I should
have listened. When I stepped on to the sidewalk outside, the air hurt. It
was a good 70 degrees cooler than it had been in Miami.
I looked to my left, where a line of limousines stretched out of sight. Big
John said he’d be there when I arrived. It would not be hard to spot him.
I fought the prevailing wind and my imbalanced luggage as I marched down the
line looking for John. Drivers sat inside the comfort of their idling cars.
Hastily made signs sat atop dashboards, naming intended passengers. Not a
single one said “Mr. X”, and none of the drivers filled the front seat so
completely as John would have.
I went up and down the line a few times, pausing for a couple of minutes between
each pass. After the first two trips, I chanced leaving my luggage unattended.
This is not a behavior that is looked up favorably at airports, but the State
Trooper standing watch gave me an understanding wave of approval.
I waited longer than I should have to start digging through my bags for the
business card that John had given me. I found it much more readily than I
found a pay phone. I still refuse to get a cell phone, though it seems increasingly
difficult to conduct life without one.
I was patched through to the dispatcher.
“Big John was supposed to be waiting for me, but I can’t find him.”
“What was you name again – Mr. Z?”
“No – Mr. X.” I spelled it for him.
“Well, I see where we picked you up last week...”
“That’s a good sign,” I thought.
“…But I don’t have an order to pick you up today.”
“Well John showed up a day early last week. Did you send a car for me yesterday?”
“I don’t see anything here at all,” replied the dispatcher with finality.
I think he sensed the end of this conversation, but I wasn’t ready to give
up.
“Do you have a car available?”
“Hmmmm, let’s see. Hold on…”
I listened to some hideous music on the phone for a while. Outside, people
walked by briskly with their heads down, some shielding their eyes against
the biting wind.
The music stopped, much to my relief.
“I can probably get a car there in about 30 minutes.”
“Fine, I’ll take it.”
“I’ll need your credit card number…”
When I finally hung up, it was after 6:00 and my carefully laid plans were
in ruin. In my mind I could see the TV crew scrambling to find a replacement
cameraman. Kris might be wondering if I chucked it all and joined the sea
faring circus.
Half an hour later I was finally on the last leg of the journey. Traffic was
mercifully light, the rush hour having passed while I was waiting for a ride.
Given the time and temperature, I directed the driver to the house rather
than the high school.
I dumped off the bags and got a warmer coat and a hat before setting off for
the football game. The halftime show was just winding down. I apologized to
the rest of the CATV crew -- they had found a replacement and I was off the
hook.
Kris was sitting in the bleachers, probably for my benefit. She is normally
a little too worked up at these events to sit, but I never would have found
her otherwise.
“Hey. Where were you?” was her greeting.
“Long story.” Kris had a blanket and opened it to let me in. “Gee, we haven’t
sat together like this in years,” I continued, thinking back.
As a matter of fact, it was way back in 1996. Londonderry was playing in the
state championship game, and we sat in this same spot. The local network station
provided live coverage of the game – helicopter camera and everything. The
local cable station was prohibited from covering the game, so I played regular
spectator. At home, the VCR was recording…
Ryan was in his senior year, playing middle linebacker. The game was a nailbiter,
and Kris was just the slightest bit agitated. I pretended not to know her.
In front of us sat the quarterback’s father, chomping on his trademark unlit
cigar. The TV station sent a reporter into the stands to interview him near
the end of the game. Just then, a particularly bad call by the referee went
against the home team. Kris went nuts, and in a moment of uncontrolled emotional
outburst let loose a string of expletives. She wasn’t the only one to do so,
but I moved a little further away.
As we discovered when we later watched the tape of the game, the camera angle
during the interview had Kris’s face in full view over the father’s shoulder.
Suddenly the crowd roars, and although she can’t be heard Kris’s lips can
be read quite clearly. It was amazing how many friends, acquaintances and
clergymen saw and commented on this episode, all with a chuckle. Motherhood…
Londonderry won that game, 21-18.
Ryan is number 56 on defense, 15 seconds left, in the endzone. Big play...
Tonight’s game was tied at 14 apiece, and neither team was getting anywhere
as it wound down. “Wells scored in the first half. You missed it,” said Kris.
It figured.
Another play began, and appeared to be over quickly. Out of the corner of
my eye, I caught sight of a lone figure emerging from the pile.
Kris jumped up, pulling the blanket off – something I’ve become very accustomed
to in other venues. “Run, run, run.”
Although I’ve always doubted the effectiveness of instructions shouted by
individual spectators during a play, the runner followed Kris’s instructions.
Before everyone else jumped up and blocked my perfect view, I knew it was
Wells – scoring one for the old man. Fatherhood. Home again. (Click here for
video clip of touchdown)
Another Journey Continues - Epilogue
A few weeks after returning, I gave birth to the kidney stone that had dogged me during the Mercury trip. I had another last month just for good measure.
I had a brief email exchange with “Ms. M.” from Celebrity. There was no mention of “Mr. M.”. I had written to him before the trip saying “I assume somebody went out on a limb, inviting me on this voyage”. He wrote back something to the effect of “That is our job”. I hope he didn’t lose his over the Mercury trip.
Although Londonderry did not have a stellar season, Wells ended up as the leader in both scoring and tackles. He will be back next season.
I made the mistake of bringing home a Celebrity brochure about Alaska cruises. Kris spent several nights trying to decode the myriad of excursion options.
“How are you ever supposed to choose? This is so confusing.”
I looked through the brochure briefly, and got dizzy.
“I want to go,” she said.
“Moot point,” was my incorrect answer. She gave me an icy stare – downright glacial. I tried to recover. “I’ll start a little vacation savings account and maybe we’ll go for our 30th”.
By December, thoughts of Alaska dissipated – we had our own glacier on the back deck. Our ‘actual’ 25th anniversary was on December 17th. From the refrigerator, I retrieved the bottle of champagne that we bought on the Galaxy trip in July. We toasted the memories while I made Filet Mignon Celebrity from the recipe obtained at the culinary demonstration. Later we pretended that our bedroom was a Sky Suite. I’ll leave it at that…
Ryan called regularly and gushed about the trip. It clearly had a big effect on him. He eventually got around to reading the story of the first cruise and then of his own trip. After that he would bug me about posting additional chapters. At one point, I went on strike until he developed some of his pictures for me. Most of them are still undeveloped.
The restaurant in Philadelphia where Ryan worked went belly-up in December. I wrote elsewhere about his 4 Marine Reservist friends who were called to duty for the war in Iraq. They are all well, but are being shipped to Okinawa for six months – I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it means… The guys were partners in a thriving landscaping business. The remaining partner called Ryan to ask if he would come up to New Hampshire to help keep the company going. In March, Ryan returned to the roost ‘temporarily’ to help him out.
Shortly after arriving in New Hampshire, Ryan received a panicked call from one of his housemates. The landlord had decided to sell the townhouse, and wanted everyone out by May 1. Panic ensued.
Some may remember the side story about Kris’s parents. Her father, Dave, has Alzheimer’s disease and her mother, Pat, has borne an incredible burden for the last 5 years. It may be coincidence but after reading the Galaxy story last summer, Pat suddenly decided to look into full-time care for Dave.
Earlier this year, Kris’s childhood home was sold. Kris, Wells and I went to Philadelphia over April school vacation to catalog and pack up Dave’s collection of toy trains. It took the three of us five 12-hour days to do it.
Our plan was to rent a truck and bring the trains back to New Hampshire, where I would figure out how to sell the collection. While in the area, I reasoned, we could do Ryan a favor and pick up at least the large items from the townhouse. It looked like he’d be staying with us for a while.
I got the truck and we drove in to the city. One of Ryan’s roommates, Adam, met us at the door.
“We’re here to pick up Ryan’s furniture. Can you point out what belongs to him?”
“Sure. Just about everything is his,” replied Adam.
I assumed he was kidding. Ryan had nothing when he got out of the Marines, and I assumed that he’d have little more a year and a half later.
Adam was not kidding. With the exception of his roommates’ beds, virtually everything belonged to Ryan. Two couches, 2 desks, bureau, at least 10 chairs, a dining table, coffee table, several side tables, lamps, rugs, television, cello, guitar, stereo, mirrors and more. These items were conveniently dispersed throughout the four-story townhouse. The staircases were about two feet wide, steep as ladders and winding.
Much later that day, we were done. I hadn’t packed tightly, and the entire truck was full.
“Thanks for your help,” I said to Adam.
“What about the organ?” he replied.
Yes, that’s right. Ryan had somehow acquired an organ, and it was on the second floor. We went up to scope out the job. While Adam and Wells began to move the thing, I stepped into a large walk-in closet at the top of the stairs to look for more stuff.
“You mind if I close this door for a minute?” asked Adam as the boys approached the staircase. “We can’t get by with the door open.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
The door closed and I was plunged into darkness. I could hear the guys struggling with the organ.
“%$*#(&%#. It’s stuck!”
Before getting down one step, the organ had become wedged in the narrow staircase. There was not enough room to open the door, so I was stuck in the closet for 10 minutes while the boys dismantled the handrail and coaxed the organ to move.
The next day, in the rain, we took everything out of the truck, packed in the 150+ boxes of toy trains, and repacked the furniture. After that experience, I’ll bet I can pack everything needed for a 10-day cruise into an overnight bag. I have put the 10-hour ride back to New Hampshire right out of my mind.
Two weeks ago we moved Kris’s parents into a fantastic facility in York Harbor, Maine. The main building mimics the grand hotels of yesteryear. Pat lives in a cooperative apartment, and Dave receives full-time care in a medical unit elsewhere in the same building. The interior of the place reminds me of a cruise ship. There is even a grand dining room.
We’re all back home now. The garage is full of Ryan’s furniture. He will work until fall, and enter school locally to pursue his interest in radiology.
In the Sunday paper last week was an article about two short cruises being offered out of Boston. RCI’s Serenade of the Seas will be making its debut here. A travel agent has chartered the whole ship. I suggested to Kris that we book the Royal Family Suite and take our mothers. I came very close to booking before Kris reminded me that we really couldn’t afford it. I knew that, but it was fun to imagine.
I have reminded Ryan several times that he really ought to write up a summary of his impressions. I will keep bugging him until he does, and when he does, he’ll post it here. Maybe some of you can pressure him…
Video
I have posted a few more in recent weeks:
Dolphins (Galaxy trip)- Kris does tricks with the dolphins at Xcaret. A little silly... Stream the video, or right click here to save it to your computer. Stereo music, Real Video 9 (3:56) Filesize 10MB. Or click here for Windows Media Format.
Unrelated to cruising, these are just for fun. The first one is a classic – ‘extreme’ sports as ballet.
Loitering - A few years back, my son Wells (the one with the helmet in the video) took my camera and recorded himself and his buddies rollerblading and skateboarding at the local strip mall - which is posted against such things. For punishment, I put together this "embarrassing" video. Stream the video or right click here to download. Stereo music, RealVideo 9 (3:10) Filesize: 8MB. Or click here for Windows Media Format.
The Chase - Ryan has moved back in with us, and brought his bird-dog 'Joe'. The surprise was all Joe's when we unleashed our dog-bird 'Q', a cockatoo. Stream or right click here to download. Stereo music, RealVideo 9 (1:32) Filesize: 2.5 MB. Or click here for Windows Media Format.
I’m still working on Swimming with the Rays (Now complete, click here)– This clip documents our day on Grand Cayman. We took an excursion which combined snorkeling and a swim with the stingrays. When it is done, I’ll let you know.
These videos and all the rest can be accessed from the video page on my website. Click here to take a look.
Web site
In addition to the videos, my website contains convenient links to all installments of the cruise stories. Things might be easier to find there in the future should you wish to do so.
I have just added a section on a little hobby of mine – the Garden Railroad. An oddity for sure, the railroad occupies about 3000 square feet in my back yard. It is complete with mountains, valleys, waterfalls, rivers, lakes and villages. The neighbors think I’m nuts, but they don’t know the half of it…
Also there is a complete list, with photos, of Dave’s toy train collection – a preview of my upcoming life on Ebay. And I would be honored if you would sign my Guest-Book.
Statistics
You already know about my thing for stats -- here are some more. Feel free to skip ahead if you’re not interested.
Cumulatively, the various parts of the original Galaxy story have been viewed on CruiseCritic approximately 51,000 times. The Mercury story has been viewed about 12, 500 times. Another 7,000 viewings came from the Port Boards. Approximately 40 ‘spin-off’ threads on this and several other boards generated another 20,000 viewings.
My own website, from which all of the pictures and videos are served, reports the following (since 8/10/2002):
Hits (requests for files): 3,489,022
Distinct computers served: 8,534
Data transferred: 209.745 gigabytes
Average data transferred per day: 768.8 megabytes
Video viewings: 4,390
So far in May, about 3% of the web traffic has come from Laos.
The numbers boggle my mind.
My Confession
A good number of people seem to think I am some kind of a writer. A few even ‘accused’ me of being a pro trying out material on an unsuspecting audience.
Several have pegged me as Bill Bryson, citing a similar appearance and residency in New Hampshire. This brings me to my confession:
I am not a writer, except as the stories here on CruiseCritic might qualify me to claim the title. I am not Bill Bryson, have never met the man, and have not yet read any of his books – I’m afraid to now lest it somehow corrupt my ‘style’.
Many feel that they have gotten to know Kris, Ryan, Wells, the pets, the in-laws and me through these stories. In fact, you have. There is only one detail that I have, in a way, misrepresented here. I have revealed the truth to very few. Here it is:
My real name is not Chesterh, nor is it Chester. Legally I am Richard H. However, I do go by Chester in every day life. It is a nickname that has been with me since childhood. If I hear Richard or any variation in public, I don’t even turn around.
Otherwise, you have been an unrestricted party to a truly amazing chapter in our lives. The vast majority of the experience has been a blast, and my family thanks yours for the pleasure.
Conclusion
We are back on our regular vacation schedule, so I expect to return here in 2007 to share another cruise adventure. Hopefully many of you will be here and perhaps some of us will meet aboard a cruise ship. I look forward to it.
All the best,
chesterh, et al
May 18, 2003
Londonderry, NH
The end…
(Update: The third story is largely complete. Please see the cruises
page)
We would be honored to have you sign
our Guest-Book.
The messages below are from the original posting on CruiseCritic.
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DocJohnB
xteen
OCruisers
Here's hoping
that your next cruise will come a little earlier than 2007 ...
We would be honored to have you sign our Guest-Book.
© chesterh 2002 - All Rights Reserved
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