Back in July, I started a long, drawn-out account of my European vacation. You remember, don't you? Way back when summer was just getting started, kids were off school, birds were singing and all was right with the world? I'm not saying I'm slow, but...well..actually, I think that IS what I'm saying. So sue me.
Anyway, I told you about the beginning of the trip and I started to tell you about our first day onboard. Now that summer is becoming a distant memory and I'm stuck at my desk, it's time to torture myself by reliving the rest of that wonderful trip. And you get to watch! Aren't you lucky?
So where were we? Ah yes: onboard the Queen Mary.
After dumping our luggage in our stateroom, we decided to take a quick tour of the ship. Call me superstitious, but the first thing we checked out was the location of the lifeboats.
Is it just me, or does it seem odd to "relax" with a 140-person boat hanging inches from your head?
The deck goes all the way around the ship and we enjoyed a nice amble around, looking at the view of New York. Turns out it was just as well we walked the promenade when we did: at 30 knots in the middle of the ocean, it's a mite windy out there. And nothing ruins a vacation more than being blown over the handrail in your best evening gown.
Once we got underway, the view of New York was pretty incredible. It was a stormy day with amazing cloud formations: great for taking photos, but not so great once we got out into the open ocean (more on that in my next post).
We passed the Statue of Liberty:
And some industrial cranes:
Shortly before departure, the captain sounded the horn/smokestack/funnel thingie. Go ahead, laugh at my lack of engineering knowledge. All I know is that it was big and red and LOUD.
Seriously, the sound went straight through my bones and liquified my internal organs. There were a couple of kids near us when it started and I swear they actually started to vibrate.
On the foredeck of the ship (ooh, listen to me, sounding all nautical) are eight spare propellers. To give you an idea of the size of these things, the small railing beside each one is about waist-height.
They looked more like pieces of sculpture when you got close to them. Apparently, all the little striations are carefully carved and mathematically calculated. All I know is that they looked very cool.
As we sailed out of New York, I couldn't help noticing that it appeared we were being followed. At first I thought I was imagining things, but as we sailed further out of the harbor there was no disguising the fact that several small boats were tailing us.
There was a police boat, one from the Coast guard, and a couple of other tugboats. Apparently, that's standard security since 9/11. We even had a helicopter escort.
The boats and helicopters stayed with us all the way to the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.
Once we got closer to the bridge, I could see I was mistaken about the purpose of the escort. They weren't there to protect us, they were there to pick up the pieces. Because from the top of the smokestack to the bottom of the bridge is a distance of less than ten feet! The captain said that he has to be careful to pass under the very center of the bridge or risk losing the top of the smokestack and making Cunard very, very angry.
Still, if he had clipped the bridge, at least there'd be witnesses:
And in true Girl Scout fashion, I came prepared for the worst:
Next time: Rough seas and treadmills: not a good combination.
