If I’d only known. But isn’t that life? A bunch of 20/20 hindsight. A litany of “what if” possibilities with no clear answer as to whether things would have turned out better, worse, or pretty much the same had we made a different decision. Fate is a funny thing sometimes. But we’ve picked our path here, so now we have to deal with it. Like the vows we read last week, I guess we’re in this “for better or for worse”. I just didn’t expect the “worse” side of things to come quite so quickly. But now it’s time to stick together on this one, grit our teeth, and just get through it.
We have to play the waiting game for now. I wonder how long it will be before we get word on whether we can re-enter Miami. Heck, at this point, I don’t care WHERE we make port, as long as it’s in the US. We’ll figure things out from there.
12:16 p.m.
Lunch was okay. Our boxes were delivered at 11:30 a.m. Each box contained a ham and cheese sandwich, pre-packaged peanut butter crackers (I saved mine for later), an apple, a pre-packaged cookie for dessert (I also saved that), and a bottled water. There were also condiments, and salt and pepper packets.
The meal was palatable. At least they’re still feeding us.
The day thus far had been lots of reading, resting, waiting, and for me, writing. We haven’t had anymore updates regarding our situation. I’m hoping for more info this afternoon.
I can tell that Jeremy is getting antsy. He’s bored. Heck, I’M bored! I wish we had a deck of cards. Then we’d at least be able to kill a little time that way.
I thought of seeing if he wanted to go through baby names, but I don’t want to press the issue right now. We’re both under enough stress with our current situation, and I don’t want to add any more with baby talk.
2:13 p.m.
We’re underway again! Thank god! We haven’t had any new updates from the crew regarding our situation, but we must have gotten clearance from customs or the port authority or whoever decides it’s okay to dock.
It feels so good just to be moving again!
2:48 p.m.
I guess I jinxed us. Yes, the ship is moving, but it’s moving in the wrong direction. Instead of moving toward Florida, we’re moving back toward the Bahamas. I have no idea what’s going on. We have however found a news channel on the television. We weren’t picking it up before, but it’s there now. It’s showing scenes from around the country and around the world of growing unrest due to what they’re calling the “Su flu”.
According to the reports we’ve been watching, this thing is spreading rapidly and is very contagious as well as dangerous. I had no idea things were this bad. I mean, I knew they were bad back on St. Marteen, and they’ve been bad on the ship, but I didn’t know how widespread this thing actually was. No wonder they’re keeping us out at sea. Now I’m not sure where we’re safer, at home or on the ship. The scenes we saw of the chaos raging on the streets in some of the bigger cities certainly makes me think twice about trying to get back to Chicago.
Now I’m kind of torn – return to chaos or stay on our prison ship? Right now, I guess the decision is being made for us. But what happens when we have to make a choice ourselves?
I suppose that only time will tell.
3:52 p.m.
We’re stopped again. From the balcony I can see land in the distance but I don’t know what Bahamian island it is or if it’s inhabited.
Jeremy and I tried to nap but neither of us succeeded. I don’t think we’re burning enough energy to be tired (other than being mentally exhausted), and we’re too nervous to fall asleep.
There is supposed to be another ship status update at four o’clock. So hopefully, we’ll know more then.
4:10 p.m.
Okay, I was wrong. We don’t really know more after the update. Pretty much all they told us was that we’re still awaiting clearance to re-enter port. Other than that and a bunch of apologies from the first mate (still no word from the captain), we’re still status quo. Passengers are still requested to remain in their cabins. Meals will continue to be delivered. And that’s about it. No word on timeframes, the wellbeing of the sick passengers…nothing. Zip, zero, zilch!
5:13 p.m.
We thought we heard gunfire coming from somewhere above us. Jeremy checked the hallway outside our cabin to see if he could get a better read on where the sounds were coming from. Then we tried out on the balcony, but by the time we got outside, the sounds had stopped. It may not have been gunfire at all. It could have been something else altogether, but it sure sounded like gunfire, at least according to Jeremy. I don’t think I’ve ever heard ACTUAL guns being fired outside the movies or television shows, so I’ll have to take his word for it.
Right now, we’re just killing time, sitting here on the bed, watching the news coverage. I wish we’d had this channel earlier. It might have cleared up a lot of unanswered questions we had. Although, in a way, I’m kind of glad we didn’t. Watching the scenes from back home are disturbing to say the least. There are scenes of looting and rioting in a variety of locations. Store shelves are being emptied. Fires are being set. Vehicles are being stolen. Homes are being broken into. Highways are jammed with bumper-to-bumper traffic. Schools and other public buildings are being closed. Sporting events are being cancelled, and entertainment venues are being closed. Hospitals are being overwhelmed. It’s chaos plain and simple. Even if we make it to port now, I’m not sure how we’ll get back to Chicago. They’re saying that flights are being cancelled en masse. If we make it back to Florida, we could be stuck there in a situation where people are going crazy. I think our lives might actually be safer out here at sea.
6:39 p.m.
The news channel just went black. I have a feeling it was a mistake that we were getting it in the first place. I’ll bet the captain or first mate or whoever is running the ship now ordered it to be turned off. I don’t think they want passengers knowing what’s going on back home. They’re probably worried that if we know what’s going on, we might panic and try to mutiny to take over the ship.
We’re still just sitting here waiting. Nothing much to report other than that. Wait, actually there is. I called to request a deck of playing cards. The person I spoke with said it would be delivered shortly. That was almost an hour ago. Oh well. At least the sunset outside our balcony windows is beautiful. It’s not much, but at least it’s something to brighten our day.
Jeremy just checked outside our door. Dinner has been served. Oh boy, meal time, the highlight of our day – so sad.
7:18 p.m.
Dinner tonight was sliced ham with a honey glaze, green beans, bite-size potatoes with pearl onions, a cookie, and a small carton of milk along with a bottle of water. The meal wasn’t bad, a little cold, but not bad. I ate mine fast in the hopes that making my stomach digest it all at once will make me sleepy. We both drank our milk but we saved our bottles of water and our cookies. We’re accumulating a nice little snack stash.
Now we’re just going to watch a movie and try to fall asleep. They’re showing “Groundhog Day” on the movie channel. How fitting.
September 8th
(Cruise – Day 8)
4:11 a.m.
Jeremy is still asleep. I’m writing by the light of the television. I’m up early because I couldn’t sleep. I fell asleep so early last night watching our movie, and I can only sleep so long without having done much physical activity. Usually I find Bill Murray hilarious, but the movie last night was depressing because it felt so much like our own lives right now – the same thing over and over again.
Speaking of which, we were officially (according to our initial itinerary) supposed to have docked in Miami this morning, but we’re still right where we were yesterday afternoon. This is getting ridiculous! Actually, it has BEEN ridiculous, now it’s just downright INSANE! We’re going to miss our flight home for sure. It was scheduled for three this afternoon. They should at least let us off this tub so we can make a go of it ourselves rather than holding us captive aboard ship. I’m g
oing from frightened to downright PISSED OFF!
It’s amazing just how quickly things can change. A few days ago, Jeremy and I were talking about bringing another life into this world. Now it sounds like we need to be more focused on keeping our OWN lives in this world.
The questions swirl like angry bees. How long are we going to be stuck out here? Another day? A couple days? A week? Longer?
How long CAN we be stuck out here? How long can the ship remain self-sufficient with the supplies that remain onboard? How many passengers are sick? How many are still alive onboard to consume our supplies? How much of the crew is still alive or able to maintain the ship’s functions and operations? We haven’t heard from the captain in several days. Is he sick? Is he dead? What is our food situation? We’ve already seen an appreciable difference in our meal options and the meals being served. Maybe more importantly, how much fresh water do we have?
8:28 a.m.
Breakfast is a little skimpy this morning, but it was better than nothing. Our boxed breakfasts included a croissant, butter packets, a banana, a yogurt cup, and a small fresh fruit cup containing mostly grapes and blueberries. The meal was served with orange juice.
At least we’re eating healthy. We set our bananas and sealed orange juice containers aside and ate the rest. We ate on the balcony for some fresh air and a change of environment.
We’re still near that island. I’d say it’s maybe a mile or two from us. I still can’t say whether it’s inhabited or not. We haven’t seen any other boats in the area. It feels like we’re the only people out here. Frankly, it’s scary.
10:05 a.m.
We’ve decided to make a move. Jeremy and I are going to venture outside our cabin. We’re going on an expedition to see if we can get a better idea of what’s going on around the rest of the ship. Jeremy wants to go alone, but I’m not letting him. He argued with me about it for a while. He said that it might be dangerous. I countered that while it might be dangerous, it might also be dangerous for him to go alone. Plus, I’m curious, and I’m dying to get outside this cabin. Eventually he gave up trying to convince me to stay behind. He should know by now that we do things as a team. I mean, what’s the worst they can do if they catch us? Yell at us? Send us back to our cabin? Big deal! We paid to be on this boat, to have access to this boat, so we’re going to do just that!
10:35 a.m.
We were just getting ready to venture outside our cabin when an announcement was made over the ship’s public address system. There’s still no ETA on getting back to port. The first mate announced that they are now limiting fresh water usage to certain times of day or night. They are also requesting that showers and toilet flushes be kept to a minimum to conserve water. They requested that people shower only every other day.
EVERY OTHER DAY?!
How long do they expect us to be out here?! We were thinking that at worst we’d be back by tomorrow. But they’re making it sound like it could be days or longer.
Now we REALLY need to get out of our cabin and find out just what the heck is going on.
12:42 p.m.
We’re sitting on the balcony in a mood of abject disillusionment and terror, eating our lunch of a cheese sandwich, apple, cookie, bag of chips, and canned soda.
We made our trip outside the cabin. I’m still not sure whether I’m glad we did or not. We’re definitely more informed about what’s going on here, but I don’t know if that’s really helping.
So after making sure that no one was in the hallway outside our cabin, we crept outside and stealthily made our way to the nearest and most non-conspicuous stairway we could find.
We had studied our map of the ship in advance of our departure to plot our course. It was based on the most direct routes and the ones that we hoped would keep us away from more heavily trafficked portions of the ship.
We first made our way up to the Entertainment Deck, careful to avoid several crewmembers as they went about their business (all wearing protective surgical masks I might add). Several of them carried spray bottles of some sort of solution. They were spraying it on walls, railings, pretty much any hard surface in what I assume is an ongoing effort to disinfect the ship and keep it that way.
Eventually, we found ourselves in a little alcove beside the stairs just outside the Salacia Lounge. At this point, we could go no farther. Surgical-masked crew members were milling about the area. But from our vantage point, we could see all we needed to see. Through the glass-fronted lounge doors (which were closed), we could see that most of the lounge tables and chairs had been pushed to one side of the room. These furnishings had been replaced by rows and rows of mattresses spread out on the floor with people laid out on them.
At the lounge’s entrance stood several crew, both armed with pistols. As we watched, a middle-aged woman rose from her mattress inside the lounge and made her way to the lounge’s entry doors. There, she made a feeble attempt to open one, and when this attempt failed, she pounded weakly on the glass with closed fists. The poor woman looked horrible! Her haggard appearance made her look like one of the walking dead! Pale, gaunt face, unkempt hair, frail frame – she appeared to be on the absolute verge of death.
The woman’s actions were met by an obscene gestured from one of the crew standing guard, followed by him motioning for her to return to her mattress. When this failed to motivate her, he pointed at, and then began reaching for his pistol. This forced her to move slowly away from the lounge doors and back to her mattress where she literally collapsed in a heap. She might have been dead by the time she hit the floor. It wouldn’t have surprised me in the least.
After seeing this, Jeremy and I decided it was best to beat it out of there ASAP! At that point, we were both afraid that if any of the crew saw us out in the open air of the ship’s public areas, we might be reported. Then we’d end up in what appears to be the forced quarantine area they’ve set up in the lounge. I thought that being stuck in our cabin was bad, but the thought of being held in that lounge with all those sick people is absolutely terrifying!
On our way back to our room we had to make a detour due to several crew members headed our way. This forced us on a circuitous route that led us first toward the rear of the ship before we could make our way back to our cabin. When we passed the ship’s stern, we could see rows of what appeared to be sheet-wrapped corpses. While we can’t say for certain that this is what they were, what else could they BE?! And there had to be at least 100 of them. A team of masked crew members were again working to dump them over the side of the ship.
At this rate, there aren’t going to be any passengers remaining to return to port WITH!
I don’t know why we can’t just sail back home, drop anchor a mile off shore, ferry those of us who are still healthy back to land, and keep the ship as a floating hospital for those who are still sick. They’re already quarantining people, so I don’t see how it could hurt. But then again, we’re not in charge here. And by the looks of the armed crew members, they aren’t looking for suggestions on how to remedy the situation.
3:49 p.m.
There was an announcement from the head engineer. He said that the water for the showers is now being switched to sea water. Fresh water is only available in sinks from eight to nine a.m., noon to one, and seven to eight p.m.
We’ve filled up our ice bucket with fresh water just in case. It seems kind of silly, but you never know. I don’t know if the ship’s head engineer was making the announcement because he’s in charge of monitoring water operations on board or if he is now the ship’s ranking officer. Maybe the other officers have been sidelined by the flu…or worse.
6:28 p.m.
It’s raining. It’s a steady, driving rain. We’re sitting on the bed, eating our somewhat pathetic dinner, and watching the movie “Top Gun”. I might consider the evening cozy were we experiencing it under different circumstances.
Our dinner consists of fried rice with tiny bits of pork in it. We also receive an orange, the standard cookie
, and a plastic cup of what appears to be a red juice mix of some sort served with a piece of plastic wrap sealing the cup’s top. Supplies must be running low. And after seeing what we saw today, we’re worried about the safety of our food. Are the same crew members who are dealing with the diseased flu carriers or disposing of bodies also preparing our meals? They could be unwittingly contaminating our food before serving it. The thought is unappetizing to say the least. If I wasn’t so damn hungry, it might even be enough to stop me from eating…but it’s not.
I really wish the ship would just MOVE! Even if it didn’t go back to Miami, at least it would provide the illusion that we were making some progress in resolving this thing. I think that sitting here is starting to drive me crazy. Even if they just sailed around in circles, at least it would give us something new to see – a change of scenery or SOMETHING! This is ridiculous! It shouldn’t be this hard. Just get us back to port, offload the healthy, and let us try our hand at surviving. UGH! Being stuck out here is making me SO…DARN…MAD!
The Dystopian Diaries Page 34