The Matt-a-pult

Since so many people have emailed me about this, I figured I'd take them time to write out a bit of the Matt-a-pult story.

How I got flung off the deck of the largest ship in the world: A story in three parts.

First off, the first two weeks after signing onto a ship for RCI you are subjected to possibly the most mind numbing training videos in the world. I mean 4 hours a day of bad 70s acting. And to top it off, it starts at 6:30am. There's a reason why a lot of people don't make it through their first two weeks. Anyway, on your last day of training, you go into the training room a virtual zombie and are told that you need to go back to your cabin, and put on something you don't mind getting messed up. Oh god.

So I schlep myself back to my cabin, throw on my bathingsuit and an old T-shirt, and trudge up to Deck 4. There we learn how to depot the emergency rafts for the umpteenth time, and I figure we just get to do it now so we'll be getting a bit greasy. Well, part of the *Last chance off the ship before it explodes* manuevers is this fun little system called the "rapid descent arm". This thing is little more than a pulley on a slingshot with two harnesses, and the safety officer tells us it's "Not for the weak of heart". Great, we learn all about how the premise is you harness two people on either end of this pulley, One long, one short. As the arm swings out the person on the short end is "rapidly but gently" lowered into the water, where he/she can remove the clip, and the next person can descend as their rope has now become short. Sounds simple right? well et me tell you, it's overly simple.

The Matt-a-pult. Our safety officers tells us he'll be demonstrating this principle using two of the more resilient crew members in the training group: (Read: I'm looking for beefcake). As it's me, a few philippinos that weigh as much as my chair, and a few Canadian chicks he decides I make the perfect candidate for projectile. I'm looking forward to getting to boulette down the ship at a civilized speed, so I'm okay with this. I'm paired with said chair-weighing philippino, and we're soon harnessed, this is my approximate memory of what follows:

Safety Officer: "Alright, clip this hook to your lifejacket"

Me: "Alright" *Clip*

Safety Officer "Now I'll gently swing the armiture out over the water"

*Large german safety officer kicking the Davit so hard Chuck Norris is jealous*

Me: "Wha--- WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!~!!!!!"

*Matt becomes the first human being to break the sound barrier without a vehicle*

Me: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!~!!!"

*Matt hits the water-like concrete and nearly voids his bowels*



At this point my weight has kicked in on the other end of the line, my hook unclips and you can guess what happens.

Poor 70lb Phillipino guy: "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!~!!!"


After this endeavour, we were required to gather our innards from the sea floor, shove them back into whatever orifice they came out of, and go flip over the now capsized emergency floatation device while the rest of the class takes the elevator to deck 1 and then climbs a ladder into the water.

You sould pray your on-the-job training is so thrilling.

The internet on the ocean, or why I haven't updated

So it's been about a week since I last wrote in, which is only kind of half true. The internet here is rather troublesome about eatting my posts, I've updated twice this week and both times the internet just grinned and burped at me causing me to spout obscenities the likes of which would make a puerto rican prostitute blush. So unfortunately until i feel like typing out the massive chronicles of Operation Scotland (Scot Ops) and why I got flung off the ship from Deck 4 into the Haitian Sea (I called it the Matt-a-pult), you'll just have to be creative and come up with your own filler.

Things have been *harsh* here, every week one of the three stage staffers that work in Studio B is on Duty, this means that they can't leave the ship, are on call 24/7, and are essentially slave labor to the tune of minion minor. Now, my first week, I was on duty, it also happened to be my training week, and a the charter from hell. Therefore I never slept. The week after Stevie (one of the stage staffers) was on duty. However, stevie is learning a track in the theatre right now (we all have to know multiple tracks so we can fill in if someone gets sick) Soooo, being the FNG (Fun new guy. One of those words isn't correct, I'll let you figure out which) I got to take over all the bitchwork associated to being on duty. woot. Now this week Erik (our Philippino stage staffer who is totally insane, yet incredibly fun) is supposed to be on duty. Sadly, Erik seems to have some form of the Vulcan stomach eatting head melting why-god-why-won't-i-die virus, so we've been down a guy all week (Read: all I do is work to pick up the slack. work work work) so guess who gets to be on duty this week? woo. That's alright, duty shifts tomorrow night, and since I only have to be on duty once every three weeks I finally get to... be.. on duty.

Life's a bitch.

In other news, I've lost about 2 inches off of my waist. Which is both awesome and not so awesome. I'm very pleased that I've lost a god amount of weight, but that uniform I had to buy my first day? Well that doesn't fit so well anymore, so tomorrow I have to go grovel to the quartermaster in hopes that he'll just allow me to swap out the tents that i used to call pants for something a bit slimmer.

Anyhow, I need to go pick up my laundry. I think my cabin steward should have it done by now. As a closing note: ha ha ha, I have a maid and laundry service and you don't. I am so cool.

I promise next time I write in I'll entertain you with further stories of ship life instead of just a post filled with "waaaah I work too much, my cabin attendant didn't fold my sheets right, and the steak was a bit dry with dinner"

Well it's been a while since I've updated. I guess from my point of view not a lot has happened, but I'm sure I'm overlooking a million and seventeen things. So far I've worked. a lot. I mean I'm breaking my back here, the technicians aboard the ship told me I made a bad move going stage staff, apparently it's harder to move up than get hired to a tech position and in the mean time I get to look forward to a lot of manual labor. Everyone and their mother feels entitled to call stage staff for and variety of mundane and undesireable jobs. We've worked everywhere from Marine Division to the Kitchen, and while the department heads keep telling us it's not our job, they aren't exactly stopping them. I'm going to scream if I get one more call.

Anyway, 15-18 hour days are fun and all, but they really take away any desire to write about them out. Suffice it to say that I'm tired, and way overworked.

Diabetes questions? I can help.

Well it's been a long week. Since I stepped on the ship I've put in over 90 hours of work because of this diabetes charter. However, now that that's over with we go back to a normal schedule: this means I get to wake up at noon instead of 6:30am. Wooooo. Just left Miami where I went to Hooter's with the Tech guys and I never thought a group of 6 could devour that much chicken, and I remember the marathon eating at thursday wing nights.

A lot of the crew is finally starting to warm up to me, especially the women. Now I don't imply anything by that, it's just that there are 200 women crew, and 1300 males. As you might imagine, girls get hounded quite a bit and so aren't exactly open to being social. Hell, I wouldn't either.

So far everywhere we've been has been beautiful, but then again that's why people pay the big bucks to go there. Thankfully, we get MASSIVE crew discounts on a lot of things in port. Or so I'm told, I was on duty last week so today was the first day I got off the ship.

So I've been looking at what my normal schedule will be throughout the week. I will typically work from 11-3pm until 11-3am. So twelve hours a day. However, I get massibe two, three, four hour breaks in between twenty-thirty minutes of work. Which I'm totally okay with; however doing this seven days a week, I can see how it's easy to burn out. I think that's why our HR is so awesome: it has to be. So far I've only been here a week and we've had two parties, free ice cream day, free donuts, port passes, etc. They sem to do quite a bit around here to keep the crew happy, which is much appreciated.

Blue suited Philpinos. They are everywhere. And without them this ship wouldn't function at all. I mean these guys work *hard*. I feel bad that despite they work harder than most on the ship, they still only get to use the crew mess, the crew bar, the crew workout room etc. instead of being able to go up to the promenade and enjoy things there, or use the Staff + Officer's Mess. The reasoning (besides rank) is that if you don't speak English very well, you're not allowed in public/officer areas. 87% or more of the guests at any given time have English as their primary language and as such the company only wants to put forward those people who can Speak it. As an American, I get special privaledges above and beyond the other staff, as most of our guests also happen to be American (shocking right?) So I get to use the sports center, the higher level bars (read: Black Tie) etc.

Last night, as I was closing up Studio B (Our ice skating rink) I happened to find keys on the floor. Now, our Production manager Charlies has a serious obsession for roosters (his cock, as he puts it.) And with that said, the keys had a rooster on it. I called Charlie (who, by the way, is the best boss I've ever had) and told him I had his keys, I was wrong and they belonged to the light tech. However, he told me it was good to call him first as Tenessee (our light tech) can get Fired (seriously, Fired) for losing his keys in a public area. Therefore Charlie felt it only appropriate to milk it for all it was worth. Therefore, tonight Tenessee owes me my weight in beer, thanks to me saving his ass yesterday with our Head SnL tech, AND finding his keys. Since I don't have call tomorrow until Rock wall at noon, I may just take him up on that.

Anyway, hope all's well with you all, I'll catch you later.

THe internet ate this post

Lots to update, Blogspot ate my update. I am peeved. Took a while to type. worked until 2:30pm last night, had call at 7am this morning. Will type again after not a zombie. Off to drive the Zamboni.

Day four, I'm still vaguely alive

Well, it's Day four, and we're in San Juan, Puerto Rico. So far things have been hectic, this week was no normal week on the Liberty; it's been chartered out to a company that sell diabetes medication. I have sat through so many lectures on Diabetes I think I could get my PhD. Because it's a charter, and there are no normal guests, we've had to change a lot of things from standard operating procedure. For one, they've invented so many skits/shows about their products that the stage staff has had little chance to sleep, up until today, yesterday was my easiest day clocking in only 15 hours. Still, things are going well, the food is great, the views are spectacular, and thankfully I'm not seasick.

I have to say, with so many people from so many places, and my direct content with a lot of Canadians that my accent is a total wreck. Still, I like the Canadians and everyone else just fine, and there's a particular Canadian I wouldn't mind getting to know better.

Despite the hours upon hours of heavy work, I can't believe I get paid for this. Everything is very, very laid back. The company is very interested in keeping it's employes safe and happy, which is awesome. This morning I had written down the wrong time for my training and subsequently missed it, and whilest I was panicing like mad the trainer/my boss/coworkers were just telling me to chill out, it's no big deal, it happens to everyone. And I was terrified that it would be a fireable offense. Still, as long as you're polite and admit your mistakes around here the senior staff is willing to work with you.

Oh, and yes, the ice skating rink is full sized and is real ice. I nearly exploded when I saw it. Biggest ship in the world. We pulled up next to an aircraft carrier in port today: we dwarfed it.
In other news, the light tech here is leaving in a few months, and after hearing my various exploits in lighting is willing to train me to hopefully take over as his replacment.

Today I (thankfully) only had to work 7 hours so far, even though I'm on duty which means I have to lock down the theatre and remain on call/on the ship this week. THe downtime today gave me time for three things:

1) a nap.
2) a shower
3) unpack

I now feel like a human being again. Tonight's our first crew party (for me anyway) which means dressing up as a spaceman (Space is the theme, they're playing starwars on the port wall with a projector) and free beer. And tomorrow my call isn't until 1300, so I may go hang out in the crew bar this evening.

Anyway, I need to get over to the promenade and strike a DJ booth. I hope things are going well at home, I think about you all a lot.

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.

No really, I swear, I'm going.

About to throw my crap into the car for the plane ride. Here's hoping it doesn't land in a lake, or if it does it's piloted by Chesley B. Sullenburger III.

See you all in Miami. Next update from the big boat.

It's go time.

Well, after a long week of getting last minute things done and saying goodbye, I'm off to Miami. in 12 hours I'll be having a margarita at some Tiki bar with waitresses dressed as mermaids. Or at least that's how it works in my head, in all likelyhood I'll be staring at the wall of a Marriott half dead to nerves.

Anyhow my medical results got done a day early, which was the cause for a lot of relief; apparently I'm not chock-full o' diseases and am kosher to go on the boat. I got to watch my orientation video yesterday, and to be honest it's not bad.

The one thing I'll miss most about life here in Chicago is getting that random phone call from friends at 11:00pm when they're drunk, or at 11:00am when they'd like to be drunk. For instance last night ZJD called me kinda out of the blue, and even though he was in a noisy bar it was just nice to hear from him. On the ship, there shall be no such dramatic interludes. Phone calls besides emergencies will be limitted to only when I'm in port, unless I feel like paying an arm and a leg to talk to you. Which I don't.

Alright, off to pack up the last of my crap and get on a plane: Next update from the Liberty of the Seas!

Contact Information

Here's the shipboard address, in case you feel like sending me flowers.

Matt Willer

Stage Crew

Liberty of the Seas

1050 Caribbean Way

Miami, FL 33132