Greetings from the Liberty!!

Hey all, so I made it to the boat on time, and am halfway (yes halfway) through my first day.

Welcome to: My first day OR 27 hours in Hell.

Som I arrive at O'hare airport at 2:30, right on time for my 4:30 flight, which is actually at 6:30, thanks to Delays. Anyhow the lovely desk attendant at my gate listens to my sob story about how I'm travelling on business and don't want to miss the shuttle to my hotel, and bumps me to an earlier flight, which leaves at 5:15, perfect.

The flight goes well, I get off in Miami Int'l airport and promptly make my way to the smoking area (because lets face it, since when does baggage arrive early. More on this later) anyhow, after the best cigarette in my life standing in the open air of the 75 degree smoking hole in Miami airport, I proceed to head to baggage claim. The first thing that greats me on my way? A giant Royal Caribbean sign, over a giant floar mural of a hurricane. Awesome. What kind of airtist says "ya know what would welcome people to Miami? A great big cat5 storm. yup." Reassured of Florida's wonderful weather I plod on down to the claim area. Bags go by, Porters that can't speak English go by, time goes by, no bag. Shit.

I go to the baggage complain area, and am told by very friendly reassuring Jamaican airline workers that there is no way in hell I'm going to get my bags, they didn't get swapped like I did, and I can go fornicate with myself for 2 hours. Wonderful.

Two painfully boring hours and about 30 people waiting to die in cowbow hats later the flight I was supposed to be on arrives. The god's of travel smile on me, and my bag is first out of the little gate thing. I grab my bag and happily book it for the area Im' supposed to meet my bus to the Marriott, which comes every half an hour. Three hours go by with the three Marriott drivers all telling me "Nono, this is the wrong hotel, the one you want is right behind me" every half hour gets old. I call the hotel. The driver for my particular Marriott is already off for the night. Wooonderful. The really nice lady at the desk, however, sent a cab for me at no charge; which was particularly nice of her.

I check into the hotel (which is awesome, btw) at about 2am. After several rounds of verbally abusing the lock on my door I go back to the really nice lady and inform her that my door is racist and will only open for other hardwoods. The inadvertant self depricating innuendo is lost on her, but being a nice lady she gives me another key. Rinse, repeat, 3 times. By this time really nice lady thinks I'm working in the "special employee" section of RCI. After trying my door herself she agrees that the door is in fact racist, and gives me a new room. It is now 2:45am, I place a 7am wake up call for my 8am crew shuttle.

7am comes, and it's staggeringly dark. The phone rings and it feels like my head had just hit the pillow. I look out the window at the strange darkness, shrug and figure that Florida has more than it's share of problems, like the sun being too tired to get up. In my torpor this sounds like a valid argument, and realize that I've wasted half an hour debating this miracle of laziness the sun has accomplished. I rush through the shower, slap on clothes, pack my stuff, and bolt out the door. Once I reach the lobby, Not-so-really-nice lady informs me that she is sorry, she had placed the 5am wakeup that was scheduled to my room because they had not swapped the 7am from my old room. Sumbish, well I'm already up. I go back to my room, try to nap; that doesnt work so I watch TV.

Insert very, very tedious shuttle ride/boarding procedure.

By 10am I've filled out more paperwork than most tax attorneys and am on my way to meet my new boss. He takes the next hour to escort me around the ship and explaining the rules you can break like glass, and how to dodge consequences, I decide I like Jason.

Anyhow, I've learned that today is about the most abnormal day in the ship's history, as the entire boat has been rented out to a diabetes research firm thing. Great. I'm informed by Jason that unlike most New Hire days, when 15 people on the boat don't know what they're doing, EVERYONE on the boat doesn't know what they're doing. People are running around like chickens with their heads cut off. This is the very first night that the Liberty has spent the nigh tin port since..well ever. As a side note I'm constantly reminded that I'm on the biggest most expensive and most green ship in the world. Anyhow, since we have the night in port, everyone and their mother is going to South Beach. And, according to my work schedule I have time to as well: sweet.

The last few minutes of my first shift start dwindling down, and my bosses' boss Charlie (I'm sure I'll have crazy stories about this guy in about 3 days) asks me if I can do him a "little favor". I, being gullible and new, agree to said minute favor. Before I know it some lady from our "Client" (read: pax (passengers(already getting into crew lingo!))) has given me a list of places on the ship to hang this 4 foot long banners. Lots of them. Not only are there lots of them, but this ship is big. I mean super big. And, it is built to be VERY confusing. SUPER confusing as a matter of fact. If I'm on deck 3 forward, qand I want to go to deck three aft, I have a trip that takes me from decks 1-3 with a stop in tween deck. I have just finished said journey, and since my next duty starts in 20 minutes on the other end of the ship, I sadly will miss Miami's South Beach. Thankfully I get done with my next shift at 2am, and I just might in that time be able to locate my luggage from some mythical place in the ships bowels and see my cabin.


Next update: Why you shouldn't poop in the shower, men in blue jumpsuits, and the joys of safety training.