My Voyage PTSD Story

 Before Covid came along, my wife felt it would be wonderful to do a cruise (we'd never done that type of trip before).  

My wife and I often differ on traveling arrangements.  She is more of a frugal-basic-travel, and I'm one to view trips as a special operation where things should work (mechanically).  In simple terms....being frugal for me....is not an option.

So she arranged this voyage.  There was a travel special she saw....some 30-year old liner which would pick you up in the Den Haag area of the Netherlands, sail to the Fjords of Norway, sail back and spend a day 30 minutes by train to London, then return to Amsterdam.

I gazed at this and kept quiet.....there were at least ten violations of common sense.  Mixing a few Germans  on a vessel with mostly Brits....was just one of those problem areas.  

The all-you-can-drink package was not that clear, and we were unable to get the 'box' to click....so I wasted two hours over the phone for a week....trying to get the travel people to add this. 

The trip started from Frankfurt's Airport....which had around an hour delay (weather).  We arrived in the Amsterdam Airport to discover it was one of the most complicated airports in Europe.  

The hired driver to pick us up?  That took about an hour to find the guy.  I'll just say that he was not a Dutch guy, or a European.  

Upon the arrival at the dock?  The five-minute check-in took around 30 minutes instead.

The cabin?  It was outdated and cramped.  In the closet sat two life-preservers which had to be a minimum of 15 years old.  

The all-you-could-drink package?  It was some 3rd-world booze....no more than 12-percent alcohol....so you could order gin sours all day long....forty of them, and never get more than marginally drunk.  I think on the 3rd day, from 9 AM to 11 PM....I hit that 40 gin sour point.

The food?  There were two dining areas....one that served the luxury meal, and one that was for average folks.  You had to pay extra on your reservation (three months prior) to get on the luxury list.  Upon discovery of this....I had to slip 40 Euro to some Philippine guy to move us to the right list. I'm not saying food was that much better, but it went from 2.1 stars to 2.5 stars.

The briefing on the evening of the first day about evacuation business....manning of the life-boats, etc?  Well....we had to show up with two antique life vests, and sit for 15 minutes to get the lecture.  "Marvin", our Philippine guy who did cabin clean-up....was supposed to lead our rescue raft.  My level of trust was marginal that this would all work.

As the vessel parted from the dock around 8 PM....there was this 'bump'.  The vessel had a five-second shake.  I suggested to my wife that something wasn't right.  It felt like the propeller broke.

For about an hour, we made way on some canal, and eventually docked where 'Scuba-diver-Joe' came out and assessed the propeller.  It'd hit something....made a tree....maybe a golf cart....maybe a WW II submarine.  'Scuba-diver-Joe' eventually said things were fine, and off we sailed.  Time wasted while 'Joe' drove over and examined things?  Maybe three hours....or four gin sours (depending on how you want to count time).

Day two would be the time to assess breakfast.  On a scale of one to ten....it was a three.  The bacon must have come out of a WW II rations kit.  The eggs had a funny sodium-like taste.  The coffee was stuff that we'd had in the Air Force chow hall. 

I did my best to sip through gin sours, but never got past twenty on this day.  That evening, we went to a Brit comedian show.....where the guy told jokes mostly from the 1980s.  To be honest, we wasted a lot of time....doing mostly nothing.

That night....around midnight, as I was sleeping....'Captain Frank' came on the intercom in the room.  My heart got to beating and I was in some Desert Storm PTSD moment....thinking we'd hit the iceberg and needed to trust on 'Marvin' and that stupid rescue boat.

No....it was actually worse than that.  The blade was screwed up, and would never make it to Norway.  'Captain Frank' was turning the vessel around....in simple terms, the trip was now cancelled. 

It was a brief message.  Then my wife wanted to talk about this...for at least 90 minutes.  There's not much to exchange on this type of discussion, but she rambled on about this and that.  I suggested at some point maybe the boat is leaking....which led to various questions about how you'd know it was leaking.  That probably didn't help settle matters.  

Breakfast the next day was a pretty interesting situation.  Numerous Brits I came into contact with that morning....admitted that the midnight thing had caused heart ailments and several folks had to see the ship doctor.

At least 500 people wanted a detailed report at this point....what we were going to get, and how would we return home.  No one knew much of anything.

The vessel was moving back to Amsterdam at three-quarter speed.  

I sipped through forty-odd gin sours that day, and eating around a dozen ice cream sticks....avoiding the garbage lunch menu.

Day four, we were at the dock, but they were openly discussing the problems.  No one would say anything about the going home arrangement or the mess.  We lounged all day aboard the vessel....with me sipping twenty-odd gin sours.

The next day (day five), we were given a piece of paper to explain a free trip in the future.  A bus would come by around 8:30 and take us to the train station in Amsterdam.  The arrangements?  Nothing.  They were basically dumping us at the train station and letting us figure out the way back.  

I knew some things of the station and led the wife to the appropriate counter....getting first-class rail tickets, and an arrangement for a early afternoon return to central Germany.  From this point, I was in chaos planning and being frugal wasn't on my agenda.  

We then handed the bags to a storage area, and walked around Amsterdam for three hours.  Breakfast?  Well....McDonalds. 

The refund?  Well....it was a piece of paper to say a free trip would come in the next six months.  The train fare?  They agreed to pay, with no issue.

Six months would pass and I discovered one day....the liner was bankrupt and folded up.  The free trip? Gone.

The wife bringing up another voyage?  Yeah, I kinda hinted in strong words....one was enough.  It's funny....about once a year, I will awaken at 1 AM.....from some dream where Captain Frank is announcing the evacuation is underway, and we boarded some stupid raft.  I refer to it as the voyage PTSD thing.  I mostly go back to sleep dreaming of sipping through a gin sour.

The highlight of the whole trip?  This was a voyage with mostly retirees (mostly British retirees).  Some guy had brought along his 20-year old mistress, while the ex-wife of his was with her group from the village.  At some point, with enough alcohol in both women (one 20 years old....a bit of a Cinderella-bitchy gal and other 65 years old....who seemed to have threatened a few people in life verbally)....they were getting close to a 'cat-fight', and insulting each other left and right.  I watched from thirty feet away and must admit....it was the highlight of the whole trip.  Neither did much, but insult each other ('you whore this, you whore that').  I don't think the husband/ex-husband grasped much of anything....he was mostly passed out.  

I assessed that he was a lucky guy....to have that many women fighting over him. 

(Note: it is my belief that shot glass for the gin added....had the bottom half of the glass filled, so you never got more than half-a-shot of booze in drink.  If it'd been a true gin sour, with the waves threshing around....I probably would have thrown up a dozen times.