Saturday, October 8, 2005
>From my journal
h, here is the perfect window, good for people-watching and the perfect music for writing, Starbuck's Cafe - good coffee too. It looks like it has stopped raining. I wish I could catch a show or do something while waiting here, but with the heightened security problem in the subway, my luggage is suspect. Not much my luggage and I can do together but sit here. However, watching all of New York City go by on the other side of this window is better than television!
Oh, it's raining again. Darn.
The ship leaves at 5pm, but I am supposed to check in at 1 and it's now 10am. After getting off the bus at the 'great' Port Authority Station, I couldn't find a trash can for the garbage I generated on the 14 hour bus ride. Such receptacles are good for terrorists' bombs nowadays so they have cleaned all public spaces of trash cans. Finally, I found an unattended janitor's trolley in a lonesome hallway so I was able to stash the banana peel when maintenance wasn't looking.
This right here is excellent people watching. All sorts of two legged beings going by, thick and thin, short and tall, fashionable and not, wealthy and beggarly, most with umbrellas, some without. The highlight of a visit to New York City is right here! Who needs Broadway? Look at all the shoes. It's really a parade of umbrellas in all colors, shapes, sizes, poka-dot, USA flag, plaid, floral and "I heart NY", to name a few.
This coffee business seems to be located directly above the subway. I can hear the trains rumbling under my seat in the tunnels below. Hum. Is the place going to explode while I happen to be sitting here? No, I don't think so. Wouldn't they pick a better day, like the biggest shopping day of the year? Maybe a rainy day is a good day for subway trouble, but not on the day when I am boarding the Queen Mary - please.
Several fire trucks have passed this window, sirens blaring, wet streets spraying. Seems a normal thing around here at the coffee shop. No one is on edge or surprised or even looking out the window - except me. Maybe they caught a terrorist? No, just a casual day in New York City. The fire truck that stopped across the street certainly had me captivated. Some firemen got out, milled around and then they left. New York City is on high alert. Level orange, is it?
I guess I better get on with my day. The world's largest passenger ship awaits. How long do you suppose it takes to walk from 43rd to 55th and 12th Ave? Shouldn't be too bad. But too bad it's raining. Good thing I brought my trusty umbrella.
I have certainly enjoyed my time here at Starbuck's. It is definitely worth the $5 I paid for a coffee and a dark chocolate covered graham cracker. And the music is wonderful. I am totally relaxed. Now the song that is playing is a souped up version of "I just called .. to say .. I love you."
I'd better go.
Having never walked to a pier in one of the largest ports in the world, I wasn't sure what to expect. Is finding a ship like the Queen Mary like finding an airplane at an airport? I didn't think so. The travel agent told me, "Don't worry, [it's so huge] you can't miss it." And she was right. When I got to the end of the land where the Atlantic Ocean began, I saw it. On its tall starboard side was her name, "Queen Mary 2". But how would I get across the 8 lane highway to the other side and up onto that monstrous floating thing? There must be a way.
Most normal passengers came by limo from the airport or by taxi or by Queen Mary charter bus up the highway ramp to some pedestrian friendly place where there must have been a door. And then there was me, in the vehicle friendly area with my luggage and trusty umbrella. Half a block south, I spotted a crosswalk and what appeared to be a traffic light. Ah. Here was my ticket to the other side.
However, at ground level, I seemed to be heading for the cargo, baggage, ship supply loading zone. It did not feel like the warm "welcome to the Queen Mary" zone. Where was the proper door? What if I went in with the sheets and towels; how would they ever find me? How would I find my room? Would I end up in the loud underbelly of the ocean liner? Where would I be if I went in with the forklifts?
Finally, I asked a man wearing a reflector covered jump suit. "Where is the door? How do I get on?" I yelled over the noisy trucks and pointed in the direction of the ship which still appeared to be in the distance beyond the truck gates.
"Where are you going?" the man asked.
"To England!" I said.
I was in the wrong place and was supposed to be up above, on the highway exit ramp. But I had luggage and would have looked really silly walking as if I were a car up the ramp. Excuse me, pardon me, Mr. Limo, Sir. Besides there was a steady stream of wet trucks down below. How would I ease myself into the taxi traffic lane?
The reflector man pointed toward the place where one of the trucks had entered. "Go in there," he said. "There is an elevator."
Ah ha. I followed his instructions with my trusty umbrella and my luggage, and sure enough there was a giant cargo-type industrial lift which took me alone to the highway level above. Ah, now we were getting somewhere - to where the real "welcome aboard" was in progress. These people looked more like passengers, and the rainy day suddenly turned into a buzz of enthusiasm.
Now I was funneled among others into various lines based on my dining room. I checked my ticket again trying not to hold up the line. The "Britannia" diners were to go this way and the really rich people went the other way. I was eyeing everyone and was feeling very young. Suddenly I felt very much out of place. No one else had luggage. Seems the bell hop had taken their bags at the highway exit ramp to be delivered to each room. Fancy!
Meanwhile, I was also the only one in line who was drenched head to toe and conspicuously leaving a wet trail as I towed my sopping luggage across the concrete corridors. The only part of me that was somewhat dry was my hair - thank you to my trusty umbrella.
I started to mingle with the elderly couple who stood behind me in line and everything began to feel better. They were extra nice and praised me for walking to the ship and for having taken the Greyhound to New York and for being on my way to Turkey in Eurasia no less!
"All in a day's work," I told them.
The line continued through long halls and cavernous warehouse type rooms and finally along organized roped areas, back and forth. The que was moving faster than at the local amusement park. After customs and security checks, there were about fifty attendants checking people in (all 2,600! passengers don't forget) at computers along a really long makeshift counter that had separate stations on wheels.
"Next," the woman said, and it way my turn so I stepped onto the "QM2" carpet. "Smile," she said, clicking a digital photo of my damp head with a "what-am-I-doing" look on my face. Processed within seconds, she then handed me my ship's ID card. This transaction came after I had presented my credit card (and the ID card was very much attached to my credit card of course!).
"If you want to buy anything aboard ship," she said, "use this card and carry it with you at all times. Welcome," the attendant said. "Next."
Sincerely,
Heather O'Neal
Of Global Interest LLC Adventure Travel
Ann Arbor, Michigan
(734) 369-3107
www.ofglobalinterest.net
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