Plenty of Alcohol
Well, then, imagine the travel vacation of your dreams. Steaming gently along on a holiday cruise ship, complete with luxurious accommodations, good food, fine wines, all manner of social diversions, and time on your hands to enjoy it all. You paid for it, handsomely, so you're entitled to it. A break away from the normal routine of early waking, commuting to the workplace, putting up with the tedium of it all.
You planned and you saved, you anticipated and salivated at the very thought of the glamour of it all. You booked passage through your reliable travel agent on a modern outfitted ship meant to convey you through the calmly azure waters of the Mediterranean, the Pacific, where you could stand on the deck in your new vacation outfits, watch the seabirds gracefully fly by, the odd fluke break the calm of the waters below.
The warmth of the southern sun, the ease of it all, the comfort, the glorious, care-free lounging, that's the life for you. Except there might be a little lingering doubt, that briefly passes your mind, and just as quickly flees, as you shrug it off. What happened with the Costa Concordia was a rarity, an accident that would not be repeated on a cruise line known for its reputation beyond reproach.
And then, days of "hell" rise on the near horizon and they embrace you, your shipboard companions, the captain and crew of the Costa Allegra, and above all, the floundering ship itself. An engine room fire, a power failure. No air conditioning, no lighting, no refrigerators and running water, no hot food, no comfort. Too hot to remain in your stateroom, you sleep on the deck, fitfully, concerned, and dirty.
Suddenly everyone, all the 'guests', including you, are herded like cattle, brusquely informed to stay there, and wait, "treated with absolute contempt". You remain there, at the muster stations, prepared to abandon ship, and make use of the prepared lifeboats. "Guests were prepared to disembark, they put on life vests and were taken to lifeboats. The emergency situation lasted for three hours to make sure the fire was completely out."
And then, because of where the breakdown occurred, you and the other 999 passengers on board knew you were also vulnerable to the predations of pirates. It wasn't only the lack of sanitation you had to put up with, but the indignity of having to relieve yourselves behind a curtain, overboard. The stench on board was "beyond horrific". How much worse could things get?
"We kept the bar open the whole time, there may not have been much water but there was plenty of alcohol". So you drank and drowned your misery and fury and frustration, resulting in a warm inner glow that made everything seem more or less bearable - temporarily, in any event.
Never again, you say? The cruise from hell, you say? Not your idea of a vacation? A miserable adventure you could have done without? Jeepers creepers!
You planned and you saved, you anticipated and salivated at the very thought of the glamour of it all. You booked passage through your reliable travel agent on a modern outfitted ship meant to convey you through the calmly azure waters of the Mediterranean, the Pacific, where you could stand on the deck in your new vacation outfits, watch the seabirds gracefully fly by, the odd fluke break the calm of the waters below.
The warmth of the southern sun, the ease of it all, the comfort, the glorious, care-free lounging, that's the life for you. Except there might be a little lingering doubt, that briefly passes your mind, and just as quickly flees, as you shrug it off. What happened with the Costa Concordia was a rarity, an accident that would not be repeated on a cruise line known for its reputation beyond reproach.
And then, days of "hell" rise on the near horizon and they embrace you, your shipboard companions, the captain and crew of the Costa Allegra, and above all, the floundering ship itself. An engine room fire, a power failure. No air conditioning, no lighting, no refrigerators and running water, no hot food, no comfort. Too hot to remain in your stateroom, you sleep on the deck, fitfully, concerned, and dirty.
Suddenly everyone, all the 'guests', including you, are herded like cattle, brusquely informed to stay there, and wait, "treated with absolute contempt". You remain there, at the muster stations, prepared to abandon ship, and make use of the prepared lifeboats. "Guests were prepared to disembark, they put on life vests and were taken to lifeboats. The emergency situation lasted for three hours to make sure the fire was completely out."
And then, because of where the breakdown occurred, you and the other 999 passengers on board knew you were also vulnerable to the predations of pirates. It wasn't only the lack of sanitation you had to put up with, but the indignity of having to relieve yourselves behind a curtain, overboard. The stench on board was "beyond horrific". How much worse could things get?
"We kept the bar open the whole time, there may not have been much water but there was plenty of alcohol". So you drank and drowned your misery and fury and frustration, resulting in a warm inner glow that made everything seem more or less bearable - temporarily, in any event.
Never again, you say? The cruise from hell, you say? Not your idea of a vacation? A miserable adventure you could have done without? Jeepers creepers!
A passenger looks for his bags after alighting from the Costa Allegra cruise ship at Mahe port in Seychelles Island March 1, 2012. The crippled Costa cruise line with more than 1,000 people on board arrived at the capital of Seychelles on Thursday after three days at sea without power. A French tuna fishing boat towed the stricken Costa Allegra towards the port in Victoria, where a line of ambulances, a Red Cross medical team and a fleet of small buses awaited the arrival of the liner. Photograph by: REUTERS/Ahmed Jadallah, [PNG Merlin Archive]
Labels: Entertainment, Environment, Human Relations
posted by Pieface @ 2:21 PM
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