Thurs, Dec 14 – What would you take with you?

At about 1:45 this morning, just after I’d gone to bed, something very strange occurred. The ship’s whistle woke me up.

One short blast, one long blast…

Ok, we know it’s not a general alarm, which would have started with seven short blasts, so if it sounds twice more it will be a fire alarm…

One short blast, one long blast…

Grrr, why are they having a fire drill at 2 AM???

One short blast, one long blast…

Ok, for fire drills, generally after the third repetition the captain and/or the cruise director will come over the PA and announce to the passengers that “this is only a drill” and we should all just stay put…

One short blast, one long blast…

Um, that’s FOUR times… my eyes are now open, but I’m still laying in bed waiting for the announcement to tell me it’s going to be ok…

One short blast, one long blast…

Sounds are emerging in the corridor, people are getting out of bed to see what all the fuss is about…

One short blast, one long blast, and one more short blast.

And then…. silence. Eerie silence as we all stand and wait for the familiar voices to tell us what to do next.

But there were no voices. And after another moment, the voices of crew began to fill the halls to share the news that the fire squad had been set into action. Holy cow… this is no drill. This could very well be the real thing.

I grabbed a shirt, roughly smoothed over my hair, rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and opened my door. There’s my neighbor, John, with his warm clothes already on, putting on his close-toed shoes, packing a bag getting ready to jump ship.

I wander out farther down the hall to where I could see the ship-length corridor. Crew members are standing around everywhere, wondering what we should do next. One of the traffic directors, clearly still drunk from the previous evening’s festivities, is the only one of his kind in place. (He’s not supposed to be there until the general alarm sounds.) And all the way down the length of the ship, people are sticking their heads out of their hallways to see what all the commotion is, and trying to discern answers.

I can’t imagine what panic must be ensuing upstairs in the passengers’ hallways.

I return to my cabin and shut the door. Immediately my heart begins to race with thoughts of, “Ok… so this could be the real thing. But I can still hear the engines propelling us forward, so if the captain hasn’t stopped the ship, maybe it’s not… But if it is, and the fire squad can’t contain it, the general alarm is going to sound next… and I’m not dressed.”

Ok, yes, I started to panic just a smidge. Still not having heard an announcement, I feel it necessary to assume and be prepared for the worst. What if I have to abandon this ship in the next five minutes? Standing in the middle of my cabin I am thunderstruck by a huge question – what should I take with me?

My immediate first thought is to grab my passport. We’re somewhere in the middle of the gulf of Mexico, halfway between the Mayan Coast and Tampa. The closest land is Cuba. (!!!) No matter where I end up, I want to be able to prove I am an American citizen so I can be taken back to the USA. But Human Resources keeps all of our passports on file after we sign-on. I don’t even have access to my passport.

Alright then, I want to take my wallet, with my government-issued ID and some money. But the liferafts will not accommodate any purses, backpacks – nothing but people. So whatever I take has to fit in a pocket.

But so much of my life is on record in this computer! I can’t take the whole laptop with me under my shirt and my lifevest, and even if I do, the moment I jump in the water it will be useless anyhow. Same goes for my camera. What if I save a bunch of stuff to my memory stick – will that ruin in the water? Do I have time to open up my computer and make a bunch of transfers? Maybe I should take my bible…

Bing, bang, bong… Ladies and gentlemen this is the captain speaking…

Hallelujah, at last! The captain explains to us that a moment ago we did indeed hear the fire alarm. Some steam was spotted, and was incorrectly presumed to have been smoke. The fire squad checked it out, the steam is normal, so this has been a false alarm. He apologizes for the early morning interruption.

And with a heavy sigh, I sink back into my bed, realizing that in the time it took me to panic, I didn’t manage to pack anything, make any solid decisions, or even put on my warm clothes and close-toed shoes.

And before I closed my eyes to sleep again, I resolved to be more prepared in the future, to know immediately what I would take with me if the ‘real thing’ should ever actually occur.

But since I woke up this morning, I still haven’t done it………..