Back in April of 2006, to celebrate my 30 years of marriage to Sue, we booked an Alaskan cruise. Even back then, I was keeping and posting journal entries, mostly via email to a few select individuals. Since that time this website has come into existence, a development which many consider a sign of the endtimes, but which also affords the opportunity to add the Alaskan Cruise chronicles to the Journals section.
So keep in mind that the following entries are over four years old… but nothing much has really changed.
DAY ONE:
As weathered, seasoned, shaken-but-not-stirred travelers, we knew that one of the worst parts of any trip is getting to and from the airport—especially if you’re planning on flying to your destination (if you’re not, the trip is not only taxing, but downright puzzling).It’s even more daunting if you’re leaving out of Los Angeles International Airport, more commonly referenced as LAX (named by the same Hollywood types who decided that the movie Independence Day should be called ID4). So, rather than have our obliging and available son Ben drop us off at the terminal, where traffic patterns can be accurately described as NASCAR without the courteous driving, we had him drop us off at FlyAway.
FlyAway is a bus terminal/parking lot where you can either park your car or be dropped off, and then take a bus into LAX. It’s an entire business that’s sprung up by recognizing that everyone who needs to go to LAX wants to be beamed there.
It’s recommended by 9 out of 10 diabolical travel experts that you should arrive at the airport 2 hours before your departure time… 3 hours if it’s an international flight, and 7 hours if you plan on forgetting that you’re carrying a pocket knife. So, for a 7:30 AM departing flight, we got up at 3:00, left at 3:30, arrived at FlyAway at 4:00, loaded our luggage and ourselves on the bus, left FlyAway at 4:30, and arrived at LAX at 5:00. We then used all the e-ticket and automatic check-in technology to save the extra time that the experts wanted us to allow. Of course, we still had to prove we had no intention of blowing up our jet. There was no racial profiling involved here, but I had to take off my shoes to get through security, so I’m guessing that terrorists must grow a 6th toe, or engage in involuntary characteristic toe-clenching, or have some unique foot characteristic that makes the ATSB want to see my feet.
Bottom line: at 5:30 AM, we were sitting in the airport waiting to board a 7:30 flight.
No problem; there’s plenty of terminal entertainment. My favorite is sitting near the major burger-joint outlet and watching the interaction between the customers and the service personnel who, quite frankly, know that their position on the airport food chain allows them to grind their heels into the knuckles of any customer trying to climb up to their level. Due to liability concerns I can’t identify this particular fast-food chain by name, but I can tell you that “Have it your way,” is asterisked with a footnote advising that “your way” is limited to the two options of “take it” or “leave it.”
The plane was right on schedule, and it was a 3 hour flight to Vancouver via Alaska Airlines. No real complaints with Alaska Air, but this was the only commercial flight I’ve been on that was longer than a couple of hours and didn’t have movies, or TV programming, or even music. I brought my own earphones, which I plugged into the laptop of the guy sitting across the aisle, but he was only playing solitaire, so it wasn't very entertaining, except for the people who kept tripping on the cord.
The coolest thing about this leg of the journey was that we had a transfer arrangement from the airport in Vancouver to the cruise ship that allowed us to bypass customs. Any luggage that survived the flight was sealed in a container and taken straight to the ship, and the same is done with the passengers. They put us on a bus, sealed the door with a little sticker, and didn’t unseal it till we were at the port terminal. So technically, we never sullied Canadian soil because the contents of our bus were “sterile”. This is why most folks who take Alaskan cruises are past child-bearing age
By the way, the bus ride took us on a brief tour of Vancouver, which is a beautiful city if you take away the buildings, roads, and vehicles.
Once we had reached the pier, the only hoop left to jump through before cruising was the cruise-line check-in procedure. This process, in the spirit of the Alaskan theme, unfolded at about same pace as an advancing glacier. To make matters worse, once we finally got the green light to be piped aboard, we still had to run the gauntlet of photographers stationed every few inches between us and the gangplank.. These folks, of course, want to capture that precious first step of your trip, then sell it back to you later in various formats. Although I’m not accustomed to having people clamor for my picture, the novelty wore thin pretty quick, and soon I was charging through these paparazzi wannabes in a way that would make Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise proud.
We spent a while getting acquainted with the ship. Basically we were getting the answers to the only two FAQs on a cruise: Where do we eat? And Where do we sleep?
The answer to the first is easy, since any cruise ship staff member who’s not trying to take your picture is trying to feed you something. The answer to the second was addressed by the steward who directed us to follow the trail of Twinkies to our stateroom.
Our stateroom was great. Our luggage was there, and so was the balcony. The bathroom had no wasted space. You could take a shower while simultaneously clipping your toenails over the toilet, which when flushed, cranks out about 5 more decibels than the average jet turbine, and generates a comparable suction.
Our only disappointment: we were informed that the fancy sit-down
napkin-in-your-lap nightly dinner is divided into two sittings in order
to accommodate everyone on board. There’s an early sitting (
We checked out the live entertainment, which consisted of a “Vegas-style” show with these important improvements: the dancers are dressed; you get a good seat by showing up early rather than by slipping some money to an obnoxious headwaiter; and it’s impossible to be disappointed by the entertainers, since you have no expectations to begin with. In fact, there’s sort of an understanding between the entertainers and the passengers… the performers pretend this is a glamorous gig, and the audience pretends they actually picked this cruise for the chance to see these acts. It’s a nice arrangement; after all, we’re all in the same boat.
Then it was time for dinner. Besides the great food and excellent service provided at an indecent hour, we got the added advantage of dining for the next 7 nights with four complete strangers who labor under the huge misconception that I must have something interesting to say. Right now, with dinner over, they’re probably thinking that everyone has a slow night. It’s a shame to disappoint them, but it’s also a valuable lesson.
Nothing to do now but go to bed and request a wake-up call so we won’t miss breakfast, which is the most important meal of the day, even if you’re planning 6 or 7 others.
All material copyright 2009 Chuck Thornton