• The Name Game

    2/25/200912:09:34 PM Link 0 comments | Add comment

    With the new passport and Western Hemisphere Travel Initiative - WHTI - going into effect this June, it is becoming more and more important that we get exact names as they would appear on a guests legal documents. This is where the fun begins . . . . . . . . trying to anticipate the correct spelling. How many ways can you spell Lauren? Here are some . . . . . . Lorin . . . . . Lourin . . . . . Loren . . . . . Louren . . . . . L’orin . . . . just for starters. It used to be pretty simple, but now . . . . one letter off and you can be denied boarding a plane with the new Homeland Security rules.  

     
    Names of all types come across our files. Billy . . . . . Billie . . . . . Bilye . . . . . Bielly. And once we get the spelling correct . . . . . is it a male or female? And what about names that . . . . . in the words of Chris Berman . . . . . they — could — go — either — way! Names like Josie, Stacy or Hillius . . . . . or Rio and Genoa and Neyana. It’s like there is a contest. We have the twins which cruised recently . . . . Mattell and Pattell . . . . . . . one of which is a boy and the other (obviously if one is a boy) a girl. We are all trying to “out spell” the other by having the child with the most difficult name to spell. Newra, Ciara, Kymberlie and Beyoolaba.
     
    We also have customers who . . . . . . believe it or not . . . . . . don’t know their given name until they need to get the documents. We had Johnny book a cruise with us . . . . . which turned out not to be Johnny. He brought us his birth certificate, and there was his name . . . . . . . Baby Boy. On more than a few occasions . . . . . we had customers . . . . which needed to obtain birth certificates . . . . . . only for them to find out that their father is not their father. Others were thrilled to find out . . . . . from us . . . . that they are adopted. These are people in their 40’s and 50’s and never knew until we forced the issue so that they could travel.
     
    Yet, my favorite “name game” is the woman that came in to book her family of nine (mom, dad and 7 kids) on a cruise. one name appeared to be more unusual than the others, so . . . . I had to ask. It turns out that this was her youngest child and when asked for a name after the delivery, she said . . . . . And I quote “Dis one be DeLast”. So, DeLast . . . . at the age of 4 . . . . . enjoyed his first cruise just a few months ago. 
     
     

  • A Train Ride to Florence

    2/19/20098:48:31 AM Link 0 comments | Add comment

    During our first cruise to Italy, we decided to . . . . . . . . . . explore on our own . . . . . . . . which is a great idea with a little bit of knowledge. Knowledge is what we had none of at this time. We have already been aboard ship for a few ports, so we thought we had a good idea of what to do. That turned out to be so wrong. Our ship ported into Livorno, which is the gateway to Florence . . . . . . the heart of Tuscany . . . . . . . . where the beauty of the countryside is featured in many paintings of today and the renaissance. Our brilliant idea was to walk to the train station . . . . . . . . . . which became a 3 mile hike . . . . . . in a bustling port city . . . . . . . where no one spoke English. We were then going to buy train tickets for the 70 mile journey to Florence.

     
    We awoke that morning to weather reports which were . . . . . at best . . . . mixed. However, we have been to a couple of Italian ports already . . . . . . . . . . . and this April week had been delivering nice weather to us . . . . . . so with uncertainty . . . . . . the four of us had changed clothes a couple of different times. I had decided to go with . . . . . . the sunny spring attire . . . . . while Linda and our travelling companions decided on jeans and a coat.
     
    Here I am . . . . in a non-touristy city . . . . with my shorts on and a short sleeved shirt . . . . . camera around my neck . . . . . and an Italian map in my hand. The perfect picture of an American tourist. It was a brisk, but sunny morning walk to the train station . . . . . . . just beginning to cloud up the further inland we went. Arriving at the station, we needed to figure out how to buy (it was Lira back then) the tickets and then get them validated.
     
    We are standing at the platform . . . . . . . which is outdoors . . . . . . no building to go into . . . . . . . . along with the locals going about their business. They were all dressed in hats and winter coats and I must have been a sight to see, yet I commented how odd it was that they were clothed in such heavy attire. That’s when it clouded up and began to snow. At least 4 inches before we boarded the train . . . . . and it was cold . . . . . and I in my shorts with camera around my neck wearing my loafers with no socks. Linda and our friends couldn’t stop laughing at me, but for some reason they didn’t stand too close to me, either.
     
    The train was a pleasant ride through the fertile valleys of olive trees and grape orchards along the Arno River. Florence is a beautiful city . . . . . yet, small and compact . . . . . . with large open squares. One of these squares is home to many of Michelangelo’s works . . . including his unfinished Pieta. It was a great day walking through this lovely city . . . . . during what is now a beautiful cloud free day in the 70’s. I am rather comfortable in my summer clothes, as walking this city could give your a good workout. My companions . . . . . . on the other hand . . . . . are having to walk around while carrying their cumbersome coats.
     
    But, it was time to get back to the station or miss the last train to Livorno. We run to the machine to purchase our ticket and barely make the train as it was pulling out of the station. There we are . . . . . . . running along side . . . . jumping onto the steps. We are now relaxed in our seats and wondering if there is a bar car. There is not. I had made my way to the restroom, and upon my return it looked like a war breaking out. Linda and our two friends are arguing with the conductor . . . . . . . about what . . . . I don’t know. They were yelling at each other . . . . . first I hear English . . . . then Italian . . . . . and over and over. I tried to break it up and understand what was going on. I heard a lot of “polizia” . . . . . which I believed not to be good . . . . . . and a lot of “passaporte” which also was not good. There were many other words ending in vowels which I am sure were just as bad. With some help from a neighboring passenger . . . with a little broken English . . . . it seems that we neglected to validate our tickets. The conductor was demanding the fine of some 2000 Lira, as I recall. After a few moments of calmness . . . . and my little cheat sheet . . . . . it turns out that 2000 Lira is about $1.50. I paid him and he starts to walk away. Of course, Linda is determined to get the last word in . . . . . as she yells down the aisle “I will see you at the Olympics in Atlanta, buddy – you wait”.
     
    And that ended our first trip to Florence in the spring of 1996.
     
     
     
     
     

  • Hitching a Ride . . . . . Part 3 (final)

    2/16/20092:39:26 PM Link 0 comments | Add comment

    Continued . . . . . . . . .

     
    Wednesday morning . . . . . . . . and time to go home. Certainly the snow is melted and all is back to normalcy. With the use of Kurt’s hidden $50.00 we were able to take a cab to the St Thomas airport. So here we are . . . . . not sure which terminal we should go to. . . . . . . . I think it was Paper Air (something likes that). Looking for a certain terminal was a joke. If you’ve ever seen the old TV show Wings . . . . . . Well, it’s old now - it was new back then . . . . . . you would know what I mean. This was an open air terminal . . . . . . . . the kind you just walk in anywhere and look for a sign that says Paper Air. Maybe it was Cardboard Air – I don’t remember.
     
    We easily make our way to the counter as there are very few people around. And by that I mean there is no one at the counter. After a few minutes a young kid with a white shirt hops over the check in counter and we asked him “Is there someone coming to check us in?” “One moment, I will get her” he replies. A good day got bad. A portly sized island woman came from behind the wall and immediately . . . . . . . . . in island dialect . . . . . “I having my lunch and you come here to disturb me? What you want when my lunch is getting cold?” We just thought we should check in so we don’t miss our flight . . . . I replied. “Ain’t no plane going nowhere when I at lunch” and off she went to finish her meal. I could see by the board (chalk) that PaperClip Air is departing soon, but we thought it best to simply wait.
     
    As the portly woman exits from the back again, she asks “Are you waiting for a flight?” It was like she didn’t know we ever existed prior to this moment. About that time, a young lady . . . . which was sitting across the hall . . . . . . . came to the counter carrying a shoulder bag and dragging a duffel bag behind her. That conversation was something like this . . . .
     
         Young lady . . . . . Can I get on this flight to San Juan?
         Portly lady . . . . . What I tell you . . . . I will call you when I am ready
         Young lady . . . . . But you’ve been telling (cut off)
         Portly lady . . . . . You want to wait another day? You sit over there
     
    Linda talked to the young lady and it seems that she has been waiting for 2 days, but portly lady does not seem to like her. Our attitude quickly becomes yes ma’am and no ma’am real fast.
     
    Our flight time is in just a few minutes now, but we say nothing as the portly woman asks our weight. One of us had stated a weight . . . . . . which was obvious to her it was on the low side . . . . . . . . and the portly woman stared across the counter and said “Girl, do I need to come over and carry you to a scale?” The weight was quickly corrected. The flight leaves in just a minutes now . . . . and the young lady begs one more time to get on the flight . . . . and is again denied. The kid in the white shirt comes from the back and throws our bags onto a small cart . . . . . . at the same time, telling us to follow him. We do . . . . . to a small 6 seater dual prop plane with a paper clip emblem on the tail. The kid throws the bags in the rear . . . . . . then tells each of us which seat to sit in. Linda is ready for drinks by this time, but when she thought it could get no worse . . . . . . . . . the kid put on a tie and jumped into the pilot’s seat. WOW . . . . did Linda turn red from blood pressure! We did however have an empty seat. I guess the young lady should bring portly lady breakfast tomorrow.
     
    Aside from the fact that he had used a screwdriver to prop the door open for some air ventilation (he pulled the screwdriver out just before takeoff), this kid turned into a very professional adult. His turning of dials and knobs seemed to become synonymous with Linda’s shakes, shivers and screams. But we had a beautiful flight, flying low enough to really take in the scenery as . . . . . . some of us . . . . . . enjoyed our quick flight into San Juan.
     
    As I said earlier, we were able to make confirmed reservations . . . . . . rather than the standby . . . . . . . . . and as we entered the terminal, we realized how great that worked out for us. There were still people from our original cruise . . . . . . in the same clothing as we left them . . . . . . waiting for their standby to be called. However, some of them would need to wait a bit longer as we walked up . . . . . . . refreshed and freshly clothed . . . . . . with our confirmed ticket in hand . . . . . . . amidst the dirty looks from people we just left a few days earlier . . . . . . and took our place in line . . . . . . . in front of the others . . . . . . . to enter the plane for our return trip to Atlanta.
     
    If you ever wondered where our loyal relationship with Carnival began . . . . . now you know. It began on a hot sunny day aboard the Carnival Tropicale . . . . . which took us in and paid our bills during the storm of the century. Another thing I know for fact . . . . . . . . wherever your plans may take you - when fate becomes beyond your control and things become too difficult to adapt . . . . . . .  adapt - and they will become your most memorable of times.

  • Hitching a ride - part 2

    2/13/20093:43:14 PM Link 0 comments | Add comment

    Continued . . . . . . . . .

     
    As we are settling into our cabins, we begin to wonder . . . . . . . with no cash or credit card . . . . . . . . . can we even get a drink? We decided on a sure thing. Take the $60.00 we have . . . . . . . . and play blackjack. 15 minutes later . . . . . . and with the remaining $10.00, we went to the slots. I then found myself needing to ask the purser if he would pay the tips to the staff (as they were cash only in those days) and add it to the check I would send later. He did. We departed San Juan with about 600 of the scheduled 1400 passengers aboard. An empty ship is an eerie feeling. A cruise ship is designed to run efficiently at full capacity. The placement of lounges and the flow of traffic give the feeling of spaciousness on a full ship. A half full ship just feels empty . . . . . and quiet. The sounds you hear but don’t pay attention to . . . . . mixing drinks . . . . . . chatter from the nearby tables . . . . . coins falling in a slot machine . . . . . the shuffle of footsteps . . . . . laughter in the distance . . . . . . the clicking of cameras . . . . . . are mostly gone. However, we did have plenty of crew to attend to our every need.
     
    As another day passes by, we find ourselves arriving into the beautiful port of Charlotte Amalie . . . . . . . . commonly known as St Thomas. Here was a chance for us to check in with our family as this was the first real opportunity for a phone . . . . . . 1993 and all. This is when we found out that our son . . . . . . . 19 at the time . . . . . had a vehicular confrontation with a deer. The deer won, but our son was fine. Based on this information, we decided we should get home. Now we find ourselves back with our original problems. Money, credit cards, rooms and air transportation – but, this time from a different location. We needed a hotel . . . . . . . . one we could walk to . . . . . . with luggage . . . . . . and one that took American Express. So $10.00, 1 credit card and 4 people then said good-bye and thank you to Carnival and the staff for all they have done . . . . before we began our walk . . . . . . . maybe ½ mile to the Radisson Port Side, I think that's what it was called. Now it’s closed. But, they take American Express. We are back to the good life.
     
    Room keys in hand and luggage put up . . . . . . we went to the bar . . . . which overlooks the port . . . . . . and had a few drinks as we watched our previous 2 night home drift into the sunset. Now that we have full bellies we begin the task at hand . . . . . . . . . calling Delta. We were very surprised to see that this worked in our favor. Delta was not accepting any confirmed seats for passengers in San Juan. Standby was their only option. By contacting Delta from St Thomas . . . . . . . we were placed with general reservations and therefore able to get confirmed seats . . . . . albeit, not until Wednesday. All we need now is a way to get from St Thomas to San Juan to catch our flight. Worry about that tomorrow.
     
    We awaken to a beautiful Tuesday morning and make our arrangements to fly out the next day. Seats were limited, but I still had my American Express. With that task out of the way, we took a walk to the dock and found that we could take the ferry boat over to St John with the use of . . . . . . . . you know it . . . . . . . . . they take AMEX. Off we go . . . . . . . still with our $10.00 in our pocket. The time has come to make use of that last bit of cash we have been holding on to. Walking around St John, we came upon a store/bakery which was perfect for our needs. 1 long loaf of French bread and 4 bears . . . . . . . total cost . . . . . . $10.00. During our leisurely stroll through town with our bread and beer, we found 3 of us becoming very upset at the 4th. It seems that Kurt hides a $50.00 bill in his wallet for emergencies. HELLO . . . . . . . if this week isn’t an emergency . . . . . what is? After taking it from him, our first thoughts were to have a dinner for 3. We later decided to include him.
                       
    . . . . . . . . . . to be continued

  • Hitching a ride on a ship

    2/12/20098:10:03 AM Link 0 comments | Add comment

    We just recently returned from a trip to San Juan and it reminded me of a story. A story which happened to us in March of 1993 . . . . . . . whoa . . . . . that’s over 15 years ago. As I was saying . . . . . . . . Linda and I were returning from a Caribbean cruise into the port of San Juan after 7 glorious days in the sun. Friends of ours . . . . . . Kurt and Tina . . . . . were sailing with us and now it was time for our flight home.

     
    It was a hot and sunny day as we arrived . . . . . uneventfully . . . . at the airport. We arrived into madness and mayhem. Fighting our way to the ticket counter, we heard mumblings of a snow storm in the east which was having a bit of an effect on airline schedules . . . . . . . but, no worry . . . . . . . we are going to Atlanta. Finally, arriving at the front of the line we were shocked to find that our flight was canceled . . . . . . . for a snowstorm in Atlanta . . . . . . Atlanta, Georgia . . . . . in March. We are told we can standby for a flight in 3 – maybe 4 days . . . . . . . and the phones are behind us if we would like to find a hotel. As I turn . . . . . . . . I notice each and every phone is 30 deep . . . . . and it didn’t appear that they were having much luck. Turns out – this is the storm of the century. Atlanta’s record snow fall and the inspiration for the movie “The Perfect Storm” came out of this March 1993 storm. And we were going to be sweating it out in Puerto Rico. Sleeping on the airport floor didn’t appeal to us, so I figured we could go back to the port and hitch a ride on a ship for a few days. My logic was . . . . . . . if the planes can’t get out . . . . . . they won’t be coming in, either.
     
    Back at the port, I quickly found out that hitching a ride on a ship isn’t quite as easy as one might think. I had checked with three cruise ships . . . . . each time explaining my place in the business (as if it mattered) and each time I was given the same broken English good-bye. The 4th ship we came upon . . . . . . . . . and believe me – walking ship to ship in 90 degree heat is no picnic . . . . . . . was the Carnival Tropicale. Discussing my options with the chief purser at least got us a “sit down and wait”. And wait we did . . . . . an hour and a half . . . . in the heat. Finally, the purser comes down to us . . . . . . . after verifying my story with Miami . . . . . . . . to tell us that we may sail with them . . . . . . . . . for the week . . . . . . . if we would like. As the ship would be quite empty, we were offered a great price for the 4 of us. We accept.
     
    At this point, we realize . . . . . . our luggage is at the airport. Remember – we are at the end of our scheduled vacation and have very little cash for modern conveniences . . . . . like another cab ride to the airport – and back. The young lady checking guests in had overheard our discussion. She told us that she had called her boyfriend (no cell phones then) to pick us up and take us to collect our luggage. Another 30 minutes and we had our ride . . . . . . . . . a yellow 1970’s Cadillac with fur hanging from the ceiling, flames on the side and him and his radio singing to see which is louder. He obviously knew the guy at the gate . . . . . . after they spoke a few words . . . . . we found ourselves driving (remember, its 1993) driving on the tarmac. Heading straight for a mountain of luggage. We found our bags and loaded them . . . . . . and a couple of bungee cords . . . . . into the trunk. This day’s ordeal began with us heading to the airport at 9:00 AM. We are now leaving the airport (again) after 6:00 PM and daylight is disappearing, but we have our dirty underwear. (side note) After returning home we sent a letter to Carnival commending the help we received from their staff and a few gifts to her and her boyfriend.
     
    Back at the ship, we can now check in for passage. We need to pay our cruise rate . . . . . very reasonable for the 4 of us . . . . and be on our way. Linda and I normally travel with cash, which is mostly gone and 2 credit cards . . . . VISA and American Express. Kurt and Tina did not use credit cards – only cash - which is also gone. At the end of a good vacation, there wouldn’t be much cash left. We had about $60.00 between the 4 of us. So I would pay the cruise fare by credit card. Being in the business . . . . . . . . I knew that Carnival was in a dispute with American Express . . . . . and could not take that card . . . . . so, I whipped out my VISA. The one (which was just now pointed out to me) that had expired 4 days earlier while on our first cruise. Here we are . . . back in time-out. After another phone call between Miami (Carnival office) and the purser, they allowed us to cruise at no charge if I would mail them a check for the port fees when I returned. I needed time to think a bout it. 2 seconds later, we are on the ship.
     
                        . . . . . . . . . . to be continued

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