At the end of every cruise the shipboard crew presents a Crew Farewell, our chance to say goodbye to the people that have touched our lives and shared our existence for however many days they’ve been guests on our small slice of the ocean.
I’ve experienced the Crew Farewell show many times in the short year I’ve spent on ships. My first contract was on a seven-day run, where the show was performed at the end of every week. When the cruises are that short, the “dog and pony show” becomes something of a joke – we’ve only known these people for 7 days, how much can you really know about a person, who you are basically only serving in a customer service/hospitality position, when you’ve only interacted with them for one short week. Too often we would change the words (because you can’t really hear the bulk of us singing, only the cast is in the front with microphones) to something off-color, or comical or downright ridiculous.
However the impact of the Crew Farewell’s message changes drastically the longer the cruise becomes.
We didn’t do a full debark show for our segment guests, the passengers who were only onboard for a small portion of our circumnavigation of the globe – instead, we do it only once, for the guests who are leaving us in the states tomorrow ,after having sailed with us for 110 days.
After an experience like this, it’s impossible to look at something like the Crew Farewell as just a sappy, cheesy joke that we’re compelled do to . After 110 days with the same people, you know them, you know their hopes, some of their fears, where their kids are in school, you hear about pet’s deaths, about birthdays, grandparents, nieces and nephews. You share your own lives with them; a select few may even end up knowing your secrets, your sorrows, your heartbreak. You make friends that you don’t want to see leave; you touch lives in ways that mean these people may never forget you. After 110 days, you’re not just bidding farewell to paying passengers, you’re saying goodbye to a very unique kind of adopted family.
And then there’s the crew itself. Because we’re not just saying goodbye to the guests, we’re saying goodbye to each other. To people that you’ve lived with, worked with, played with, loved with, lied with, partied with and fought with for the last three or four months of your life. Unlike shorter cruises, where the turnover in the crew is consistent and people leave and arrive every week – the world cruise is two huge turnovers all at once. Once the knowledge sets in that three-quarters of your friends are leaving, you feel the loss.
We all walked in through the audience to the tune of “We Are The World”, and when we had assembled on stage, we stood there and looked at the cheering, crying, standing ovation in front of us, “ladies and gentleman” our boss says, “this is your crew. This is your shipboard family.”
In short, there was not a dry eye in the house – except mine, and that was only by sheer force of will – when we all piled onto that stage and listened to our supervisor make his speech about how we were the real “Gems” on this “Gems of the World Voyage”, at one point he actually turned to the crew and said thank you to all of us – something I’ve never seen any cruise director do before. And yes, even he was crying.
“I’m just the guy they give the microphone to every night. I couldn’t do it without each and every one of you, and too often, I forget to say ‘thank you’”
At the end of the song that we always perform, which in and of itself is usually a tear jerker, my entire team piled on top of each other, all decorum and professionalism forgotten, still in our smart casual evening uniforms, in a many armed, crying, crushing group hug in the middle of the stage, then we went out into the audience, pausing every five steps to exchange words, to exchange tears and gratitude and embrace our favorites.
And then suddenly I found myself pounced on – as only a child can pounce – by one of the children on board, whom I have no idea how I’ve managed to make such an impression on, who held onto me so tightly that it seemed she thought she’d fly away if she let go.
And it was at that point that I wondered if I’d forgotten how to cry, because if anything was expected to tip me over into waterfall territory, you would think it would be that.
But no, the tears came later; the tears came when the Captain came over the intercom for the final voice from the bridge announcement:
“The Atlantic crossing has been like waking up, from a dream, from a fantasy, coming back to reality – to the knowledge that our 110 days together are over.”
“Saying farewell is not easy, especially for people we have spent so much time with. On some Grand World voyages there is a bond that grows between guests and crew with lasting friendships as a result. I share these feelings, and truly hope to find you again on future voyages as guests and as friends. Stay safe, and healthy, with fond memories – and goodbye until we meet again. Thank you for putting your trust in us as we travel around the globe, and on behalf of all the crew and ship’s staff, I hope we have succeeded in giving you the world.”
Tomorrow we will find out whether or not everyone was as happy as they said they were, tomorrow the ratings will come down from above, the evaluations will be handed out and the judgments will be drawn, but for now? For now, today is about tying up the last of the loose ends, exchanging the last of the photographs, grabbing people’s email addresses and making last minute additions to facebook. Today is about helping friends pack, sipping too hot coffee, cementing memories and using up too much Kleenex.
Today is about saying goodbye to a voyage that has in more ways than one changed my life, altered the way I look at reality, and more importantly, the way I look at myself.
“That night the halls were alive with the pattering of feet, as messangers were sent back and forth from cabin to cabin, each bearing the same desperate message: Promise me you’ll keep in touch! And they did promise, and they all really meant it, those promises would not begin to fade for at least a year, maybe two.” – David Eddings
Or, perhaps better said,
“Love in every language, straight from the heart, pulls us all together, never apart, and once you learn to speak it, all the world will hear, love in every language fluently spoken here…”
Fair winds and following seas,
Till next,
Shaughnessy
While we say goodbye to some, there are others to whom we say hello.
I don’t think I need quote the Beatles.