It’s the next morning now, and cruise life is feeling considerably better. I am already ensconced at Vines having “breakfast wine” and will re-visit yesterday.
I set four alarms to make sure I was up in time for my pick up. iPad, iPhone, Apple Watch, Alexa…at 3:30am it was like I was waking up in a carnival. While G waits until the next morning to close up his suitcase, mine were already ready to set out on the front porch (much less stressful). I made a note on my hand as a reminder to cancel that superfluous Southwest flight, checked on the status of my United flight, and waited. Driver Michelle was there right on time, and even gave me a hug when she dropped me at the airport. Uber doesn’t do that (thankfully).
Everything went smoothly. I guess 5:30am on a Sunday may be the only time I could hope for no backups at security. When I reached the gate, they were making an announcement that anyone in boarding group 5 would have to gate check their roll aboards and some in group 4 might have to also due to the full flight. Did anyone want to volunteer? Due to my late purchase of the ticket, I was in group 4 and after a couple of minutes of thought, decided to gate check my bag. I was assured it would be waiting for me at baggage claim in San Francisco.
I am way too trusting.
It took me about a day and half to deboard the plane, from my seat way back in row 42. By the time I reached baggage claim, the conveyor had already stopped moving and Final Bag was displayed on the screen. My big suitcase was there, but that gate checked bag was nowhere to be found.
Sigh.
There was a similar bag still on the conveyor, and the agent set about trying to phone the owner of that bag to see if they had picked up mine by mistake. This went on for about twenty minutes; meanwhile, G was calling asking if I was at the ship yet. No, a harsh world away.
While I was waiting, I started walking around other nearby baggage claims, and finally found my bag sitting on one of them, looking very lonely. Whew! Dodged a bullet on that one.
I had to wait for a second Princess shuttle to the pier, and when the bus pulled up to the terminal, a collective “OMG” gasp was hard to miss. There were a lot of people in line outside the terminal. A lot of people, many hundred, probably more than a thousand at that time (11:30ish). We weren’t entirely certain where to even start.
The next long while (it may have been close to two hours) was spent standing in the sun in long lines that wound around the areas outside the terminal. Despite how long we waited, the line doubled in length after we got into it. It was not good, and I felt extremely bad for those people less able than me who were using walkers to stand in queue. No water…no excuse.
G kept texting me…are you on the ship yet? No, hon, not even in the terminal. My dreams of embarkation day lunch salmon were dashed, and it was nearly 2pm by the time I walked up the gangway. I was out of water, patience and energy. Oh well, some cruise has to carry the title of worst embarkation ever. I hope this one is never dethroned.
G was waiting for me as close to security on the Promenade Deck as he could get. I was scanned onto the ship, walked up to him, and my first words were “They’re all yours”, as I transferred my backpack and the handle of my roll aboard over to him. I was toast.
We stopped by Club Fusion on the way to our cabin, to scan me in at our muster station, and never have I ever been so happy to step into our balcony cabin towards the back of Riviera Deck, kick off my shoes and use the bathroom. I was in hour 12 of my day, thirsty and hungry and tired.
Thank goodness we were not re-tested in the terminal. We’d still be standing in line. As it was, around 3:30pm the captain made an announcement that they were still boarding guests, and our departure would be delayed (it was, until about 6pm). The only saving grace was that the rain didn’t start until we sailed; that would have quickly turned ugly.
G was so proud, telling me that he and cabin steward Joao from Philippines had gotten the cabin all cleaned up for me (I can only imagine the condition of the “man cave” before this exercise). It’s a trick, I discovered, to unpack and find a place for everything I brought when someone else has been living in the cabin for more than six weeks, but it got done. Joao even had a towel elephant waiting for me in the cabin, and seemed as excited as G that I was finally on board.
Elephant in bondage 😆
We rested in the cabin until we went to dinner in the DaVinci Dining Room at 5pm. And here’s where G’s tenure on the ship really paid off. We have a perfect table for dinner, and breakfast and lunch too. Dine My Way works perfectly…on a second cruise.
Waiter Marcelo and Junior waiter Aerold already seem great. Waiter Homer from the Ruby Princess in Australia came looking for me and asked me what took me so long. 😉 Love so many of the crew on Princess! I enjoyed three courses and two glasses of wine (I was starved) and then ordered the flourless chocolate cake, which was a shadow its former self, and not worth the calories, and so then ordered a dessert wine instead. I’ve not yet shared that, since G left in February, I reached five years free from the “Disease that No One Wants” (a huge deal) and was given the green light to fully enjoy my Princess Plus package with its unlimited drinks on this cruise. I’ve got years to make up for…and fully intend to.
What happened here? It was tough and brownie-like.
I wanted to weep.
Steve Moris was performing in the Princess Theater tonight, and I was gung ho to go…until I was sated and tipsy and sleepy and then returning to the cabin was much more appealing. We knew that, between going to bed so early and moving clocks back an hour for the first time in our westward passage to Hawaii we’d be up before dawn (and we were), but that’s not a bad time of day to wake up on a cruise ship.
Still, I was going to prepare my blog post…at least until McGee texted me with a “decently urgent” request (this kid always makes me smile). It took about 30 minutes to help him out, and when one of my “slide to type” responses to him from my iPhone was misinterpreted as “don’t wear transgender dresses” instead of “won’t even remember the stress” I thought I might be a bit too dangerous to publish a blog post that night.
But sitting next to the window in Vines sipping something quite nice is a great place to get the job done.
