Looking Backward to Alaska

I’m wiggly and jiggly and as middle as I can get, surrounded by sounds of shuffling playing cards and people comparing past voyages. The string quartet downstairs is playing every classical composition known in popular culture, mostly thanks to Bugs Bunny. And the gentleman behind me just asked if we are in the Bering Sea.

Not quite. It’s actually just the Pacific Ocean that is bouncing around outside the window.

Our very first cruise ever was almost exactly six years ago, on a similar path that we are sailing right now…although with a different cruise line, a slightly different itinerary, and without our dear friends Carolyn and David. We had such a great time on that trip, we have been carefully watching the “TOP CRUISE DEAL!” promises that fill our mailbox year ‘round so that we could experience Alaska once again.

We finally snagged a great deal back in February, carefully choosing a cabin in the middle of the ship to minimize rocking and rolling. Within hours, the cruise line kindly upgraded our room. We had heard whispered rumors this was possible, but it was the first time we had ever won the Cruise Cabin Upgrade Lottery. Score!

The modern age is a glorious thing, so we immediately Googled our ship’s name and new cabin number. Glowing reviews and impressive snapshots filled our monitor. “Once you go aft, you’ll never go back!” So we accepted our upgrade to the back of the ship with great anticipation. Twenty-four hours and three anti-motion-sickness pills later, I’m sort of wistful for our original, less grand, more middle location.

So yes, our room is at the very back back back of the ship. Nothing behind us, everything in front of us. There are four rooms riding caboose – two regular rooms on the ends, two shmancy suites in between. We have the regular room on the starboard (right) side.

What makes the room an upgrade is the balcony. Because of the shape of the ship, the deck is quite large and very private. And it has pretty much a 180 degree view. Granted, the view is of where we have been, not where we are going, but it is still impressive. We are hoping it proves to be rather spectacular for private, glacier bay cruising in a few days.

About to leave port in Seattle

The room is also very quiet. Nobody in the hallways, seemingly miles away from stairs or elevators, and… as reported…no engine noise. When it was time for the lifejacket safety drill, we were surprised to find we have our own private escape route. Literally. Just us and the room above us and below us are to use the special staircase to muster in case of an emergency. It felt very unrushed and unpanicky and echo-y.

So really, the room is perfect for two introverts on a ship carrying nearly 3,000 athletic-shoed, fanny-packed cruisers. The only thing wrong with it is that it sways. All. over. the. place.

Fortunately, I remember from our 2008 Alaska trip that the first day at sea was a bit of a doozy. By mid-day, all four of us had popped Magic Pills generously available from the Front Desk. So I am hoping this sea sway is just part of the Alaska Adventure and that the water will calm once we are safely inside the Inside Passage.

I have no idea how many times I woke up last night. I am now questioning the wisdom behind rocking babies to sleep. Good grief! The bed shook and pitched and lightly knocked against the wall as if the ship was having quite an amorous night. It was…distracting.

This morning, I was grateful for the handrail in the shower and the fact that I shaved my legs before we left home. Formal Night #2 will just have to be a bit stubbly. Better that than decorated by bloody Kleenex bits.

As the hangers in the closet knocked around, I decided my make-up application was of the “good enough” variety. Introducing wands, sticks, and brushes to my eyeballs seemed unwise. So I am writing this through unadorned eyes.

By 9am, I popped my daily allotment of Magic Pills and eased my way to what must surely be the busiest location on the ship. There’s some sort of t-shirt sale underway, and there’s a long line at the Shore Excursions desk. But despite the horizon still being in constant motion, this mid-ship refuge is less sway-y than our home base. Glory hallelujah.

There’s also going to be a champagne fountain thing nearby in a few hours, which tells me that the fine folks who do this every week know the seas will indeed calm down soon and I will be able to pack away my Dramamine. At least until we head back home.