Outstripped

by Avery, T. C.

  'C-day' came around in 'no time' and Jody was once more on her way to Heathrow. The big back seat of her Hackney Carriage, or London Taxicab, for the less historically informed, provided ample space to spread, settle, lounge, 'give in' and finally rest.

  Once upon a time someone had given her a golden rule for departing anywhere, "Assume you've forgotten something and you'll never be disappointed. When you discover what it is, you'll have been right all along." The inference being that the panic will be a lot less manic, since you already knew and it would just be confirmation of your self-righteousness.

  "Easier said than done," thought Jody.

  The only thing left to do now was get on the plane, and she'd checked for her Passport and tickets three times already.

  London whizzed past her windows in a blur. Everything was familiar yet she knew none of it. "Bring me something different, some sunshine, some warmth, a long tall drink poured by the world's best barman and a smile from a handsome stranger."

  "Come again love," chipped in the cabbie, desperate to engage in some small talk with the only 'fit bird' to grace his cab in ages.

  "Nothing. Nothing. Just talking to myself."

  "Pity," he thought, but he said "Righto."

  The flight was a bit of a non-event. On the face of it, a blessing for most people, but totally different and a tad 'low key' to the last time Jody did the Miami trip. This time it was a mere mode of transportation rather than the very reason to travel. The crew was different also from the one she got to know previously, rather intimately, and in the end she decided not to try too hard but to wait for her Cruise for the next big adventure and all it could throw at her.

  Although she hadn't exactly 'done' Miami the last time she was here, it did seem familiar and she was quite comfortable with her bearings. She'd quickly picked up on the American (or New World even) way of city development and road enumeration. North, East, South and West with numbers attached, is far, far simpler to understand and navigate than the British and European tradition of following well-trodden animal tracks and eventually naming them. Jody decided that if she ever got into town planning she'd do it this way and maybe do away with roundabouts too. They're a pain in the arse to drive round sometimes, but "Hang on, wait a minute" she thought, "Curvy, bendy, undulating roads do make for far more interesting journeys and spectacular architecture."

  The Port of Miami came into view interrupting her train of thought and all pointless cogitations regarding roads and streets and cars and traffic went up in metaphorical smoke, to be replaced with ships and luxury and relaxation and oceans and oceans of water and sunsets.

  Jody strained hard to see her ship, to start her voyage at the earliest possible moment. But a funnel here and a stern there was quite insufficient for identification of her own private liner. So she sat back again and let the magic taxi ride take her there instead. Which was in fact its sole and designated purpose after all.

  Modern day Cruise Terminals are a strange affair she thought. The Line owners, operators and their marketing departments spend millions and millions conjuring up majesty and luxury and mythological status for their ships and their superior mode of transportation. Yet when it comes down to what should be the magnificence of arrival for embarkation, their privileged passengers are greeted with a touch of anticlimax.

  There's little to differentiate a modern seaport from an airport. Times have come full circle. The need to educate the masses that the latest and coolest form of travel is now via a 'port' dedicated to air transportation has long since passed. To be replaced with soundproofed, plastic, wide-open spaces seemingly designed to encourage solitude and separation, rather than the hustle and bustle and camaraderie of globetrotting adventure. Unfortunately these same intolerant, impersonal and uninteresting environments have also now rubbed the shine off the resurgence of the all-together classier and 'only' way to travel.

  Jody was busy dictating her imaginary journalism in her head and continued as she strolled through check in and passport control, and the same old yah-di-yah as usual.

  "The niceties and pleasantries are all there but the grandeur has long since departed." Anyone reading her thoughts would have assumed she was in her 'nineties'. "Where's the sepia film footage, the nostalgia and the romance," then........

  "O.M.G. Look at the fucking size of that thing."

  Jody had reached the windows and only just realized that the chain of hotels blocking her view of the harbour was actually all one. It was enormous. She couldn't even see the top, or the funnels, or the ends. "In fact, where are the ends?" She couldn't tell. This was it, and it was waiting for her. "O.M.F.G."

  She all but ran round the building looking for a viewing gallery or outside platform from which to get a better look. This was amazing. It's one of the oddities of traveling that the best view of your transport is the one you gain when you're not actually being transported. She reached the upper viewing deck where complementary drinks were being served by extremely polite staff and only elbow-fighting room existed at the railings. "Where's my ticket for 'upper, upper first class' when I need it?" and then she found some space as an elderly couple finished their photo opportunity and left in pursuit of weightlessness for their already aching bones.

  Jody was genuinely awestruck. When you see ships from afar, they're big. When you see them across the harbour, they're enormous. But when you're stood right next to one' they're mind blowingly incredulous.

  It was a little too early for alcohol, so a ‘St Clements’ on ice would do nicely whilst they waited to embark. Looking around she could see, to her relief that the cross section of guests in her vicinity were of all ages. "Even a few kids, but," she crossed her fingers, "hopefully not too many. And thank God, they're not all pensioners."

  When Jody finally got her slot for embarkation she was surprised to see the "actual, real, physical Captain" greeting everyone in person, along with a small supporting cast with big, big smiles, clipboards and just the right balance of professionalism, patronization and genuine humour. She was impressed with their talents, and their uniforms. "There's just something about uniforms," she almost said out loud as she shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with the Captain.

  "I believe you're here as our special guest Jody?" the Captain rhetorically surmised, both knowing the answer and expecting a response.

  "Yes, I've been looking forward to this trip for ages."

  "I think we better look after this young lady, don't you Miss Parkin?

  "Absolutely."

  "We need to make sure the "Meridian Glory" is at the top of Jody's recommended list."

  "If there's anything you need, just ask me or one of my staff Jody." chipped in Miss Parkin. "We'll be more than happy to accommodate, if you'll excuse the pun."

  "Yes and thank you. But as far as possible I just want to be treated just like any other guest, if that's okay?" she responded.

  "Like Royalty it is, then." finished the Captain as he excused himself to perform his greeting ceremony for the couple behind her. She couldn't help likening his task to Prince Charles or some other Royal with the unenviable responsibility of handshaking with almost everyone on the planet, and smiling at the same time.

  Jody was escorted to her cabin on 'E Deck' by her designated steward, who was the epitome of politeness. Somewhere between formal and friendly, but definitely gay. "Or," she got to thinking, "is it just an effeminate nature or....?" she couldn't complete her own determinations, "..... whatever! It goes with the territory anyway, and actually, they're all gay, aren't they?" A sweeping generalization was all she came up with.

  Her young Filipino escort, Jomari, was well used to being followed 'to cabin' with the full knowledge he was being studied and pigeon-holed in whatever manner the guest decided on. He was a conscientious soul and hard worker that didn't really give a shit so long as he was rewarded for his attentiveness, his service and his smile. He would endear himself to Jody, as he would with all his guests but he would reserve judgement,
as should she, for now. Western girls with money do have a habit of being spoilt, rude bitches, though.

  Jody put him straight in no time, though not necessarily in sexual disposition. The jury would remain out, there, for a while. Jomari and her 'hit it off' big time. Her pleasantries brought his assistance and her friendliness extended to favours. Nothing was too much trouble or out of the question.

  "Mercenary stewards go with the territory," it would seem. But having a good time of it makes the whole occasion so much more palatable and fun for both parties. "Just like lap dancing" Jody cottoned on, and it reminded her of some long forgotten song lyrics.

  "We’ve entrepreneurs and numerous self employed ladies

  You can’t call them sinners coz really we’re all up for sale"

  Anyway back to Jody's maiden voyage. Time of departure was set at five pm sharp or 1700hrs on the 24 hour 'nautical' clock. This strategic plan for 'letting go' (mooring ropes that is) provided sufficient time for a ticker tape style departure, orientation, safety drill and then scheduled evening dinner. It was even late enough to afford adequate sightseeing and shopping time for shore visitors not leaving the ship at whichever port it was. Cleverly it was also still daylight and a chance for everyone to get a good view of Port and proceedings. It’s a little difficult to experience this magical moment in a night time setting, so Cruise Ship Itineraries are set to the timing of a Swiss watch and deliver their seamless and never ending sequences of enthralling events like clockwork.

  Anyone would think the whole world revolved around them. Well actually most ports of destination do. These ships are the biggest, and sometimes only, money spinners for many an island, port or small country. Who wouldn't bend over backwards or change their entire way of life for the opportunity to be on the Cruise Liner's destination list.

  Jomari had unpacked for Jody and this had given her some time to investigate the ship. It was huge. Port and Starboard, and Fore 'n' Aft are all very well for the crew and not too difficult outside (on deck), but trying to keep her bearings on the inside of this leviathan was not easy. Still there were plenty of signs and helpful uniforms whenever she felt a little lost. It’s all part of the adventure and in a few days time it would be as easy as seductively removing your clothing in a darkened room full of strangers.

  "They don't do that type of cabaret on board ships though," she thought. "Maybe that's another thing I could look into?"

  After changing for Dinner and departure, Jody found her way to the Lido Bar on the top deck for a refreshing alcoholic beverage. Finding an available tall fixed stool at the end of the bar she placed her clutch on top and climbed aboard as gracefully as she could. One of the barmen acknowledged her and she didn't have to wait long for some customary service with a smile.

  "What would you suggest on a balmy tropical evening like this?" asked Jody.

  "Well, have you ever had a 'Tom Collins'? It’s Gin, lemon juice, sugar syrup and soda water. Very refreshing and a great way to start the evening."

  "Sounds like a bit of me. I'll have one of those please."

  The barman did his best to impress with his bottle juggling and condiment throwing routine, and it worked. Passing comments and friendly chat definitely helps to break the ice and make everyone feel part of the occasion, even if you are on your own, like Jody.

  From her preferred vantage point, she watched the throngs of passengers at the railings and glass windbreakers milling and shuffling to get the best view of their departure. One very long, loud and booming blast on the ship's whistle (not exactly a toot) let her know something was about to happen.

  "It means we're about to leave Port." said the barman, second guessing Jody's perplexed look.

  A minute later there were three more short blasts.

  "I am operating astern propulsion," he said, "Well, not me. The ship!" he added, laughing out loud.

  Jody swung round on her stool, legs together, 'classy fashion' in her short, blue, sequined, strappy cocktail dress. Her clutch was now in her lap and she looked very much the part. Long straight blonde hair pinned back behind her ear on one side. The stares from men and women were plentiful and nothing she wasn't used to. But for now she belonged to the barman, and he prepared another 'Tom Collins' for her, without her need to ask. This was Sam's forte.

  Out through 'Government Cut' and past 'Fisher Island' on the starboard side. The 'Meridian Glory' slowly, effortlessly made its way out to sea. The tugs 'stood off', but accompanied the ship through the channel. Smoke from the funnels just added to the enchantment and gave the moment, and movement, some tangibility and association with the tradition of maritime manoeuvres. It was almost impossible to tell they were afloat, at sea, or moving for that matter. It was so smooth. Where was all the rocking and rolling? Jody wondered. Not that she wanted it.

  Just to add to their enjoyment, the sun slowly disappeared on cue, for the passengers, offering a picture perfect, silhouetted view of the Miami skyline against its bright orange glow. "What better way to signal time for Dinner, than sunset?" thought Jody. "They've got control of everything!"

  She'd been booked on to the second sitting for 1930hrs (seven thirty pm) and was ushered to her designated table by the maitre d'. Dinner was semi formal, meaning, 'not Black Tie', and had a relaxed atmosphere. Jody enjoyed her time with the mixed selection of passengers at her table but decided to make a relatively quiet evening of it, owing to the serious amount of travelling she'd undertaken over the last 24 hours. A few wines with dinner was all she needed, finished off with an Irish Coffee in her stateroom, courtesy of Jomari, and a good night's sleep took over.

  The following morning she was rudely awoken by the sun, streaming in through rapidly drawn curtains. Once again courtesy of her shadow servant Jomari.

  "Doesn't he ever sleep?" she wondered.

  "Good morning Jody." Jomari almost sang to her. She wasn't sure, once again, whether it was his accent or his effeminate way, or "Did he just put it on for effect?"

  "Morning Jomari," she said, "where are we?"

  Now a better question would have been "What time is it?" since any self-respecting adventurer or global traveller, with an ounce of navigational or survival skill, could have worked out from the itinerary where they were likely to be positioned.

  They were, in fact, heading for the Panama Canal via Cartagena in Columbia, but their route was through Windward Passage, which is the channel between Cuba and Haiti. Since the ship travelled at approximately eighteen knots Jody could have easily calculated their estimated position (had she known the time to be 0800hrs) to be fourteen hours or so from Miami, equating to two hundred and fifty two nautical miles. This would put them near the intersection of the 'Santaren' and 'Olas' Channels ready for passage through the narrow and potentially dangerous 'Old Bahama Channel'. This could all be corroborated by the streaming sunshine through her port side balcony windows since they were heading in a South Easterly direction.

  As it was, Jody didn't give a crap about all that 'cub scout' bullshit. It was far easier to ask where they were, and a simultaneous, welcome cup of real coffee to go with her less taxed and mentally challenged morning moment. She donned her dressing gown to provide a little modesty whilst Jomari busied himself tending to her luxury. He had actually told her they were between the Bahamas and Cuba whilst I was rabbiting on.

  "Will that be all?" He enquired.

  "Yes, thank you, but I might need your help later. I believe it’s a formal Dinner tonight?" Jody really did want a little assistance in the outfit-choosing department but she mainly wanted to see which way his bread was buttered.

  The first day of this complementary cruise was kept free for Jody to 'find her feet', locate her 'sea legs' and establish herself on board. There would be plenty of time over the next two weeks for accompanied visits to the strategic hubs, to see the sights, to engage the staff, to enjoy the splendour and the service and to test out all the fun and frivolous functions of the modern day liner.

  So today wo
uld be spent relaxing. Sun bathing, ocean gazing and people watching and a good pair of dark glasses come in very handy when you are in 'ogling' mode. The darker the better, or, for the ultimate in beach and pool side voyeurism, she was told by one of her particularly lecherous male counterparts, if you need your hobby to remain undetected, mirrored sunglasses are without equal. But you still need to be good at sideways glancing. European beaches remain firmly at the top of the 'body watchers, boobs and budgie-smugglers' list, since topless sunbathing is the norm. And who doesn't admire a stunning pair of boobs or a six-pack when they see them. Having said that, there are a lot of boobs and complete bodies for that matter, which simply should not be on display under any circumstance.

  "Why don't they know that?" Jody thought.

  Anyway she didn't have any mirrored sunglasses, just good quality dark ones, and she wasn't too concerned about being caught looking anyway. It’s yet another one of those liberties that good-looking women can get away with. Kids, men and ugly people don't stand a chance.

  "Ah, what the hell, people spend all day looking at me."

  Jody, her body, her boobs and her bikini received a considerable amount of attention themselves, and not always in the subtlest of ways. Yellow was her choice for today and it looked stunning, as usual, against her pre-bronzed, long and slender frame. She'd bought the skimpy swimsuit, or rather tethered eye-patches, in one of those swim and surf shops in Miami the last time she was there. You just don't get the same choice in England. It’s probably something to do with the lack of sunshine and opportunity to wear them. She was doing formidable justice and 'Pinky and Perky', as always, were real crowd pleasers, though, in an attendance of a thousand plus people there were a few other contenders for the spot light and everyone's attention.

  The male of the species weren't so well represented. Too many Sasquatches, oldies and beer bellies. The 'Cruise Ship Body Watcher's Manual' generally advises that couples, retirees and old ladies make up the majority of passenger lists, unless you're on one of the cheaper holiday camp style cruises, and then you can't move for the kids. Young ladies are more prevalent than young men since they are generally paid for and are happy to go just for the sun and relaxation. Young men tend to need a little more action and haven't got the money for cruises anyway.