davethegrinch.net

Sarah says:

I always felt that in order to maintain any shred of backpacker credibility, I was obliged to apologize for our having purchased passage aboard the Queen Mary 2. Our laundry list of justifications were all, in fact, true statements. We did, over a year ago, make an earnest effort to book passage across the Atlantic on a freighter. All freighters that make the iconic route, Southampton to New York (a necessity for many symbolic reasons) were already booked even back then and much to our astonishment, freighter fare would have been nearly double what we would pay for the worst cabin aboard the QM2. In order to keep our overland dream alive, we begrudgingly booked the cabin. At the time, it sincerely did not fill us with joy and we certainly never considered paying the nominal upgrade fee for the 2nd to worst cabin on the boat much less a window cabin. We were backpackers through and through and wanted our circum-ambulation of the globe to be bohemian, in the spirit of Jack Karouac. Jack would never have crossed on the QM2, probably even if he had had the money, and we felt as though we were committing some sort of betrayal.

I now know this was rather short-sighted of us. It wasn’t entirely the six days frolicking upon the largest and most luxurious adult summer camp on the sea that has me convinced we could not have made this voyage on any other vessel. The other reasons did not begin to become clear until we were well underway.

I let go of my obligation to apologize the moment the ship came into view from the backseat of David’s parents’ car. She rose 23 stories above the water, commanding full attention. The docks ahead of us were a flurry of activity preparing for her departure. On board, in fine traditional, we met our friends Gin and Tonic in front of the brass band and found a place along the 7th deck railing. Unfortunately, some things have changed since the glory days of ocean passage and due to security restrictions the only people waving us off were the dock workers……and two small people down below who had found a secret place to stand - David parents. Seeing the two of them and knowing that they were seeing us was so exciting I almost fell overboard from the thrust of my waves. As the ship was pulling away, it truly felt as though we were leaving the land of the familiar for a new, unfamiliar land. And the brass band played. We think that the story of our 20 month adventure magically made its way to the Cunard shipping company and in the spirit of those who’ve crossed before us, they tipped their caps our way and upgraded us from steerage class to a window cabin on the 5th deck. Our room and in fact the entire beautiful ship had us in love and awe.

Our six days at sea were a constant reminder of Dirty Dancing. Each night the Entertainment Department presented a gala or a ball of one theme or another and sharing the dance floor with impeccably dressed couples expertly gliding across the floor cheek to cheek in waltz’ or tangos were, indeed, single women being entertained by staff dancers. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a Baby in the crowd who had found her way out of the corner and into a backstage crew party where the action really happened. There weren’t any wig trying parties on the itinerary but there were scarf tying, napkin folding and hat decorating classes. The urge to join in was infectious and David and I did so with zestful and wild abandon. We learned to waltz, jive and rumba, we attended lectures on the Hollywood legends Bette Davis, Gene Kelly and even Clint Eastwood. We were entertained by a New Yorker cartoonist and comedian, we attended astronomy lectures on the birth and death of stars and enjoyed the ship’s planetarium shows. I went to the movie theatre three times, we had what I insist is the most spectacular view from any hot-tub on the planet. We walked miles around the decks, ate gloriously presented food, saw broadway singing and dancing shows and dressed up like royalty every night.

Sometime around day five the feeling onboard began to shift. An excitement grew, it was almost tangible, as our daily onboard newsletter began talking of our arrival into New York and the USA. It was about this time that our route took us a mere 15 nautical miles from the resting place of the Titanic. We learned all about how a sister ship to the QM2 was the one to come to the rescue of those passengers who could be rescued. As we thought about all those who had made this passage before us, the immigrants from Europe who were about to bravely begin new lives in a brand new country, the celebrities and royalty who made the crossing on the original Queen Mary, and even those who sailed upon the unsinkable ship and never made it to that dock on the lower west side of Manhattan, the sense that all 3,000 of us onboard were apart of something special grew.

To see the Statue of Liberty, you have to get up at 5:30am on arrival morning. I was up at 3:45. I was too excited to sleep. I slipped out of our cabin, grabbed a cup of coffee and stepped outside into the already warm air coming off the coast of New York. It was pitch black, no sign of land just yet but our monolithic ship had gained a little friend, a small US Coast Guard boat with blue and red lights flashing was escorting us in. At some point the ship made a turn and there she was before me, the lights of New York. The smell of the city rose above the water. Something in the moment proved too much and as David walked up behind me and joined me in seeing the US for the first time in over a year and a half, I got a little choked up.

An NYPD helicopter circled us as we drew closer to the city. We slowly and smoothly glided under the Varrazano Bridge with mere feet to spare - I think everyone out on deck drew in a gasp in astonishment. To think of all the people who saw the Statue of Liberty for the first time and the enormous uncertainly that laid ahead for them, the neighborhoods they would go on to create and populate, the traditions they brought over and would pass on, the delis and restaurants they would open and the families they would build, like mine, was almost too much.

The sun rose over the New York skyline and it never looked so beautiful to me. And then, our six days at sea were over and it was time to disembark and start our own American adventure. We passed through US Immigration, our last of many many checkpoints, each of us US citizens. David had waited a long time to use that US passport of his and, we’re happy to say, it worked.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 5th, 2008 at 5:21 pm and is filed under Global Travels, USA. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.