A Normal Travel Experience?

by Colleen Coulon (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find United Kingdom

I was twenty years old when my Mom asked me if I was interested in joining a cruise to England. A ship named “Queen Elizabeth the Second” or the “QE2”, had just been converted from steam power to diesel and was making a much touted “new maiden voyage” from New York to Southampton that summer. Mom had gotten a great deal on tickets and I was eager to go. We flew into JFK and we were whisked directly to the New York Harbor. The QE2 reminded me of a glamorous floating shopping mall with its fancy boutique stores and grand ballrooms. We boarded, wandered onto the outdoor deck, and waved to the people below as we set sail. We breezed right by the Statue of Liberty and then chugged out to open water. The first night, we made our entrance into one of those elegant ballrooms for dinner. The food was magnificent and everyone was formally dressed. An elderly fellow on my right proudly announced that this was his seventh voyage across “the pond” and proclaimed the sea as his favorite method to travel between Europe and America. The cruise was supposed to take five days. Somewhere between the the second and third day, the seas became uncomfortably choppy. The waiters stumbled while serving our dinner. “Is this normal?” I asked one of them. “This is the North Atlantic and the sea can be rough.” was the reply. It proceeded to worsen. The stewards were soon handing out dramamine, ginger and these little bracelets that were supposed to suppress nausea by manipulating pressure points. I wandered into the disco and joined a few folks trying to dance. Each step would turn into seven or eight additional steps for balance. That night I slept, gripping onto my bed so I wouldn’t fall out. The next morning that I began to suspect that our experience was uncommon. No hot food or beverages were being served at breakfast. Cold bagels and Pop Tarts had replaced the Eggs Benedict. A baby grand piano was smashed and it had been turned upside down and tied to a post. There were rumors of passengers with broken bones. Sawdust covered puddles of vomit on the hallway carpeting. But still our British staff smiled and acted as if nothing was unusual. Two days later, we docked and disembarked, and then I glimpsed a newspaper. “Terror strikes the QE2” was the headline. I snatched the paper and started reading. Apparently we had been battling hurricane force winds, forty foot waves, and the ship was within four degrees of tipping over. The cruise line was quick to apologize and offered us an upgrade to fly on the Concorde for our return trip. I was surprised how small the Concorde was with only two ample seats on either side of a narrow isle. We were handed a menu with choices of salad, soup and entree options, which were served on china, with silverware and cloth napkins. While sipping my soup, the captain directed our attention to a screen with our airspeed. We were approaching mach one. Mach one is the speed of sound. I thought it strange that I was traveling the speed of sound and yet it felt like I wasn’t even moving. We quickly reached mach two. I peered out my window. Despite it being midday, the sky was completely black. The Concorde was traveling at sixty thousand feet above the earth and I was looking at outer space. Zooming along at the edge of the atmosphere, I could see the earth was indeed shaped like a ball. I had finished my Beef Wellington and was enjoying Creme Brulee when the Captain announced that we would be preparing for landing soon. The voyage from New York to England had taken almost six days. The flight back was a short three hours. Despite my youth, I knew both these experiences were not run of the mill. But you would never have known it from asking the British crew of either the QE2 or the Concorde. No matter how many times I asked “Is this normal?” I just received a smile and a quick assurance that “yes”, sometimes this just happens.