We dutifully took our place in line with our luggage and inched forward at an agonizingly slow pace.
Judy, Maggie and I had regular luggage carry-ons, but I noticed that Ox had brought an old, obviously well used backpack.
He defended his decision, saying that he saw no reason to spend sixty bucks on a new carry-on when his old backpack would do just fine.
On the other side of the rope barrier that kept us in line, was a couple with a young boy that was obviously no happier about being up at that ungodly hour than I was. He fidgeted and squirmed and hung on the rope barrier. His mother tried valiantly to keep the kid in check, but he obviously had a mind of his own.
Seeing that he had an audience, he made a face and stuck out his tongue.
I silently thanked the Powers That Be that Maggie was well beyond the childbearing age.
By the time we had reached the counter, we had passed by the boy three times, and each time we passed, he managed to come up with a different ugly face.
My only hope was that he was not headed to Dallas.
After checking our luggage and receiving our boarding passes, we headed to Gate #7 where the TSA guys would have their way with us.
Maggie and I had gone through this ordeal two years ago when we went to Hawaii, but Ox had not flown since the September 11th disasters.
As we approached the check-in station, I figured I’d better give Ox a ‘heads-up’.
“You know that you have to empty your pockets of everything and take off your shoes and your belt.”
“My belt? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Let me go first. Just do what I do.”
I had no idea that my helpful gesture would cause such turmoil.
We undressed, put our stuff in the tray and placed our carry-ons on the conveyor.
Maggie, Judy and I passed through the metal detector with no problem and were retrieving our stuff when I heard the TSA guy say to Ox, “Sir, please step over here. The computer randomly selects passengers for a more in-depth search and you’re ‘it’. It’s just routine. Nothing to worry about. Which carry-on is yours?”
Ox pointed to the old backpack.
Ox was escorted to an area where he was asked to stand with his arms out to his side. A guy ran a wand over his entire body and patted him down while another TSA agent emptied everything out of his backpack and began swabbing the interior with a little cloth patch.
I noticed that with his arms extended and the patting of the agent, Ox’s pants were riding lower and lower. The agent finished just in time for Ox to grab his trousers and avoid a wardrobe malfunction.
The agent with the backpack suddenly stiffened. “Call security!” “Sir, is anyone else traveling with you?”
Dumbfounded, Ox pointed in our direction.
Uniformed officers arrived and gathered us together. “All of you will need to come with us. Where are your carry-ons?”
The officers confiscated our bags and led us to a secure room.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“The TSA agent found traces of gunpowder in this man’s backpack. We have to investigate.”
“I --- I --- I can explain!” Ox muttered.
“I certainly hope so,” the officer replied.
“I think I can clear this up,” I offered. “Three of us are officers with the Kansas City, Missouri Police Department.”
“I --- I --- carry my guns in that bag when I go to the firing range to qualify,” Ox said with a grimace.
Judy broke in, “Call our Captain. It’s Captain Short. Here’s his number,” she said handing him a slip of paper.
The man took the paper. “Stay here and don’t move a muscle.”
While the guy was making the call, other officers were tearing our carry-ons apart looking for more incriminating evidence.
Ten minutes later, he reappeared.
“Looks like you guys check out, so we’re going to let you go.”
He looked at Ox. “Don’t fly much, do you?”
Ox shook his head.
When we were finally reunited with our bags, Judy punched Ox in the arm.
“Cheapskate! All of this because you wouldn’t spend a few bucks for a new carry-on. As soon as we land, we’re going shopping. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We returned to the gate area and found seats. It was still fifteen minutes until time to board.
A young couple was seated across from us.
The woman spoke, “Hi, we’re Mark and Amy Stewart. We were right behind you when the officers took you away. Since you’re back with us, I’m guessing that you’re not terrorists. Isn’t it just terrible what they put us through to fly these days?”
“Well, to ease your mind,” Judy said, “we’re actually police officers --- well, three of us are. They found gunpowder residue from Ox’s service revolver in his backpack. That’s what the fuss was all about.”
“I suppose we should be thankful,” Mark said. “If you were indeed terrorists, I would certainly have been happy that they caught you. Is your trip official police business?”
“Oh, heavens no,” Maggie replied. “Ox and Judy were married a few months ago and they’re taking an Alaskan cruise for their honeymoon and Walt and I are tagging along.”
“Oh, how exciting,” Amy said. “We’re taking an Alaskan cruise too. What cruise line did you book with?”
“Holland-America,” Maggie replied. “We’re on the Statendam.”
“Us too!” Amy said, clapping her hands. “We’ll be on the same ship.”
“Is this trip for any special occasion?” I asked, trying to be friendly since we would be spending a week with these folks.
Amy looked at her husband and I saw him give her a little frown.
“Uhhh, no. Nothing special. Mark is an attorney and he’s had a pretty hectic schedule. We just needed to get away so he could unwind.”
Just then the woman at the desk announced, “We will now begin boarding flight 1119 to Dallas.”
After the first class and special needs people had boarded, we were surprised that our group was called next. We soon found out why --- they board from the back of the plane to the front.
Ox and Judy were in the very back row on one side of the aisle and Maggie and I were on the back row on the other side.
We had seen Mark and Amy as we passed through the first class section. Amy gave us a little finger wave as we made our way to the cheap seats.
We stowed our carry-ons and watched as the plane filled.
Ox leaned across the aisle and whispered. “At least we won’t have far to walk to the john.” Our seats backed up to the only two toilets in the cabin section.
I only weigh a buck fifty and I was already feeling cramped and claustrophobic. I could only imagine how Ox felt, pouring his 230 pounds into the tiny seat. Needless to say, some of Ox extended into the very narrow aisle.
I dug my book out of my carry-on and started reading to distract my attention from my feeling of entombment.
I got the creepy feeling that someone was staring at me. I looked at the seat just in front of me and saw the face of the kid we had encountered at the check-in line. When our eyes met, he grinned and stuck out his tongue. It was going to be a looooong trip to Dallas.
At last we were airborne and I figured that as long as the captain had the ‘fasten seats belts’ sign lit, I wouldn’t have to looks at the kid’s ugly faces.
After we had leveled off at our cruising altitude, the stewardesses --- oops --- I meant flight attendants --- started serving beverages. Once we had been served, the whole situation seemed to have improved --- but the peaceful moment didn’t last long.
Soon, the morning coffee on top of the recently consumed beverages began to send signals to the bladders of our fellow passengers.
One by one they unbuckled and made their way to the bathrooms. As the line began to form, I did some quick math --- over a hundred passengers and two toilets. The odds were w
orse than at my Three Trails Hotel where only twenty rooms share four hall baths.
The aisle couldn’t have been more than thirty inches wide, which was acceptable when the line was single file, but when someone came out of the can and headed back to their seat, the only way that the two could pass was for one of them to squeeze into the seat space of the passenger seated closest to the john --- and that was Ox and me!
Each time we heard a flush, we knew that someone would be sticking their butts in our face.
Some apologized, but most didn’t give a damn.
A particularly robust woman was standing beside Ox when we heard the next flush. The man that emerged was every bit as large. When the two met, the woman was obliged to almost sit in Ox’s lap in order to let the man pass.
Apparently, the strain of twisting into that awkward position was just too much for the woman’s constitution and I heard the distinct sound of the woman breaking wind followed by a gasp and Ox muttering, “Good Lord!”
When wheels touched down in Dallas, I couldn’t get off the plane fast enough.
CHAPTER 5
Thankfully, our flight from Dallas to Vancouver was uneventful.
The obnoxious kid and his family went in a different direction, which so far, was the highlight of my day.
At Vancouver, we were directed to customs where we were to present our newly acquired passports.
We fell in line behind Mark and Amy Stewart. They looked amazingly fresh for having been in transit for ten hours. I wondered if it was because of the age difference or the first class accommodations. Probably both.
Amy was a little bundle of excitement. “This is so fun!” she gushed.
“Easy for you to say,” I thought. “You have your own private powder room in first class.”
“Definitely an experience I’ll remember for a long time,” Ox replied.
I guessed there was a hidden meaning there.
After customs, we retrieved our luggage and followed the crowd to the street where huge busses were waiting to take us to the ship.
Before leaving home, we had printed luggage tags that had been imprinted with our ship’s name and our room number.
The baggage handler took our bags and told us not to worry --- our bags would be in our room after we boarded.
It was about a twenty-minute trip from the airport to the dock.
When we stepped off of the bus, our mouths dropped open.
The Statendam was as big as two and a half football fields.
We had seen cruise ships on Maui, but they were anchored far off shore. Standing right beside one was a completely different sensation.
I felt like the country bumpkin that comes to the big city for the first time, craning his neck as he stares at the skyscrapers.
I discovered later on as I talked with some cruise veterans that the Statendam carrying just over 1,200 passengers was actually small compared to some of the newer ships. Apparently, there were behemoths out there sailing the seven seas that could accommodate three times that number.
We walked the gangway and were met by ship’s officers impeccably dressed in white uniforms.
After giving our names, we were issued plastic cards on which all of our personal information was digitally recorded. These cards were not just our room keys. We would have to present them when going on and off the ship and they would serve as on-board credit cards as well.
We boarded on deck #5. Our card indicated that our room was #401, so naturally, I assumed that we should go to deck #4
I soon discovered that cruise ships don’t number like hotels. Our room was on deck #6.
We stepped out of one elevator just as Mark and Amy Stewart stepped out of another one.
“Oh this is just fantastic!” Amy gushed. “What are the chances that we both came all of the way from Kansas City and our rooms are on the same deck? What are your room numbers?”
“We’re 401 and Ox and Judy are 399.”
“We’re 415,” Amy said, looking at her key card. “Maybe we’ll be neighbors.”
We followed the directions on the bulkheads and made our way down the narrow hall.
It turned out that Mark and Amy had the last room on the ocean side about six rooms past ours.
We knew the rooms were going to be pretty small, but I definitely wasn’t prepared for what we found.
Everything was there that you would normally find in a hotel room, full bath, queen bed, closet and TV, but it was all in a space about a third the size.
We spent the next hour unpacking and sticking the stuff from our suitcases in every nook and cranny that we could find.
When our luggage was empty, there was just no place to put it, so I finally balanced one suitcase on the nightstand by the head of the bed and the other one on the back of the couch. We probably wouldn’t be doing much entertaining.
We had just finished unpacking when an obnoxious buzzer rang throughout the ship announcing that it was time for the mandatory lifeboat drill.
Our deck, #6, was called the Lower Promenade Deck and our window looked out onto a wide wooden deck that ran around the entire ship. It was on this deck that the lifeboats were stored.
Our plastic card informed us that we were assigned to Lifeboat Station #9 which was almost right outside our window.
As we went down the hall, past the Stewart’s room, I noticed that they could walk right out their door, walk about five steps to the door to the deck and another five steps to the ship’s outer rail.
Pretty convenient.
After the lifeboat drill, we huddled together to make plans for the evening --- or rather I should say that Maggie and Judy made plans for the evening --- Ox and I didn’t have a vote.
The evening was to begin with supper --- no, wait --- supper is when ordinary people sit down to a hamburger and French fries. Our evening was to begin with dinner --- that’s what you call it when it’s fancy.
We had opted for ‘open dining’, which meant that we could eat at any time either of the two ship’s restaurants were open.
We had two choices --- the Lido Restaurant, which for all intents and purposes was like a Golden Corral. There was a huge buffet line where you could walk through and select pretty much anything you wanted from Jell-o to roast beef. The other choice was the Rotterdam Dining Room where you were seated at tables adorned with crisp white cloths, cloth napkins, wine glasses and enough cutlery to last three meals. Waiters in starched white uniforms were there to cater to your every need.
Guess which restaurant the ladies chose.
We were informed early on that the Rotterdam was to be our venue of choice throughout the cruise.
Back home, my favorite eatery is Mel’s Diner and Ox is partial to Denny’s.
Judy had reminded Ox that in deference to his palate, she had suffered through enumerable Grand Slam’s and that he owed her --- big time!
Maggie had just given me the ‘evil eye’ and a “What she said!”
In truth, we didn’t have a leg to stand on, so we resigned ourselves to a week of ‘fine dining’.
I dutifully changed from my comfy jeans into my ‘dressy casual’ attire and we headed to the Rotterdam.
The Maitre’d asked if we wanted two tables for two or if we wished to sit together. We, of course, wanted to sit together, so we were escorted to a table for six. For some reason, there were tables for two and tables for six, but no tables for four. It looked like another couple would be joining us.
Two waiters were at the table immediately to pull the chairs out for the ladies and when we were all seated, proceeded to drape our napkins across our laps.
I leaned over and whispered to Ox, “You don’t get that at Denny’s.”
The guy that was obviously in charge introduced himself, “I am Den and this is Mukti. We will be serving you this evening.” *
Den presented us with menus while Mukti filled our water glasses.
As soon as I read the words at the top of the menu, I knew that Ox and
I were in trouble.
Tonight’s Featured Chef, Marcus Samuelsson
Blending culture and artistic excellence, Marcus Samuelsson has won numerous awards as one of “The Great Chefs of America” by the Culinary Institute of America. Born in Ethiopia and raised by adoptive parents in Sweden, Samuelsson’s cookbooks connect contrasting geographies and palates.
The menu itself confirmed my worst fears.
Appetizers
Summer Fruit Salad with Sambuca
Italian favorite, macedoine of fruits marinated in a sweet, Sambuca-flavored dressing
Carpaccio of Beef Tenderloin
Razor-thin slices drizzled with fruity olive oil, topped with shaved Reggiano-Parmigiano cheese and accompanied with a robust whole grain mustard sauce.
* See photo on page 216
Soups and Salad
Asian Chicken Consomme
Flavors of soy, coconut, lemon grass, ginger, and cardamom garnished with bean sprouts, diced chicken, water chestnuts, carrots, bamboo shoots and scallions
Chilled Watermelon Gazpacho
Delicately sliced watermelon swirled in a lemon sorbet and topped with lime leaves
Entrees
Filet of Beef Wellington
Mouthwatering tenderloin of beef topped with a duxelles of duck liver and mushrooms, wrapped in a puff pastry, served on a mirror of Madiera sauce with duchess potatoes and a medley of green asparagus and Chinese pea pods
Quail with Apricot Bread Stuffing
Tender quail stuffed with Grand Marnier-scented apricot breading, served on a port wine reduction with Savoy cabbage, roasted potatoes and cherry tomatoes
At the bottom of the menu was the chef’s recommendation for the perfect wine to accompany our meal.
Laboure Roi Pouilly Fuisse, France $54.00
As I read the thing, images of a half-pound burger and onions sizzling in melted butter on Mel’s grill filled my mind.
The image was quickly replaced by Dorothy’s famous quote from The Wizard of Oz, “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
[Lady Justice 11] - Lady Justice and the Cruise Ship Murders Page 4