“Would the following individuals….” – (Rome, 04/14/2011)

When one is working on land, one faces land-based problems: dressing downs, wage cuts, terminations – but when one is working shipside, there is one thing that only we face – that terrifies us more than anything: the concept of missing an all-aboard time.

All-aboard times are set in stone, they are the grail by which we run the ship’s sailing times. Now, if a passenger misses all-aboard, they will page them, they will hold the ship for them, they will do everything possible to make sure that they are able to get back to their floating home with as few ripples as possible.

If crew misses an all aboard time, the ship will sail without us, and whether we are prepared for it or not, we are on our own in whatever port we’ve been left in, with whatever we have with us. Considering that most of us carry only the necessities on shore, that doesn’t amount to much. Making things worse is the fact that if we are stranded, we are expected to meet the ship at the next port, at our own expense – and you don’t want to know what happens after that, but it usually involves being called in front of the stripes, and at the very least receiving a Personal Improvement Needed (P.I.N) reprimand – three P.I.N’s and you’re out.

To put your minds at ease: I didn’t miss the ship.

To put them on edge again: I almost did.

I went to Rome with passengers this morning, my favorite family of five, there will be a proper entry about the fantastic-ness that was my day later, when my heart-rate calms down. We boarded the train back with 2 and a half hours to spare before the 7:30pm all-aboard. This should have been plenty of time, as the trip to Rome from the port took only 45 minutes.

I should have known better, especially when remember that Mercury is in retrograde this week, and that never ever works in my favor.

The train journey ran 2 hours.

With every passing moment, the five passengers and five crew members that are on board are looking at our watches. At quarter after seven I looked at the friend sitting next to me and asked her if she had the port-agent information, because it didn’t look like we were going to make it, and the port agent would be the only one who could get all ten of us flown on ahead to Spain. Then, I started mentally calculating how many euros I could milk out of my overdraft…

We ran. In the pelting rain, we ran the normally fifteen minute walk to the port entrance, we skidded into the last shuttle and made it back to the ship with what we thought was minutes to spare. I have never been so happy to see the gangway in my life, but my heart turned over as I realized that the mooring crew was out, and there was only one lone security officer standing in the rain. We climbed the gangway, hearts racing; muscles clenched, barely able to breathe, and clocked in through security.

Then, and only then, did the same friend who had been next to me on the train look over and realize that the head of the Crew Office was standing next to the check-in point…holding our passports.

The only reason for those passports to be out of the crew office lock-up was that they were preparing to hand them over to the shore-side port-agent…and leave without us.

We had made it by the skin of our teeth…possibly less.

As it turns out, the bridge had planned to sail at 7:30, as soon as the gangway was raised from all aboard. Which means, yes, your mind just made the right jump – we held up the ship.

I have never cut it that close before, nor do I ever wish to again…it’s amazing the speed with which your mind flies if you find yourself in a situation like that, the things you think of: do I have the money for a flight to the next port? Do I know the names of any hotels? Have I already accumulated any strikes?

Even after I was safely ensconced behind my desk, assured of the fact that I was here safe…my heart still had not calmed down.

We found out the next morning, that we had already been declared left behind. Had we set foot on that gangway one minute later, we would have watched the gangway hauled up.

We’re waiting for the dreaded phone call from the chief officer calling us up to the bridge, waiting to see if we’re going to get P.I.N’d, my consolation is that while P.I.Ns stay on your record for a year, they don’t carry over that is to say, they don’t accumulate from contract to contract.

Like I said, this is one terror that you never have to face on land…and be glad, be so glad…because if you think a dressing down from your boss during year-end evaluation is bad, you have never lived through the gut-wrenching feeling that your entire world is going to sail off without you…