Dressed In Your Pajamas in the Grand Salon – At Sea – [11/08/2011]

For the record: everything is fine, the fire was apparently small and the teams had it out with a half hour. Everything’s in one piece, everyone is fine. As should be proved by the fact that I’m writing about it only an hour after it happened…and I’m writing about it more for the purposes of getting it out of my head so I can get back to sleep…

You get used to drills as a crewmember, they’re very regular – and much as we hate them and complain about them (“why do I have to have drill in Honolulu??”) we know they’re extremely important. But they’re much like the old announcements you used to hear on the radio..

This is a test of the emergency broadcast system, in the event of an actual emergency…we repeat this is only a test

And then, in the wee small hours of the morning, it’s not a test…

When you’re woken by the fire alarm at ten to four in the morning, it takes a second for your mind to catch up with your body. You’re body’s already moving, auto-program, your ears hear the alarm shrilling through the air and your feet are on the ground, your hands are grabbing for the nearest clothes you have (which, fortunately for me, is always my uniform) –you even have enough sense to remember to throw your door onto the latch when you can’t find your key…. and only then does your brain catch up…as you’re bolting up the stairs (“people! No elevators! Stairs only people!”)

This isn’t a drill.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking from the bridge; a fire has been detected in the forward incinerator room. At this time there is no cause for concern – please remain calm and follow any and all instructions given by crewmembers or announcements. The following is information for our crewmembers and is part of our standard emergency procedures:  All emergency teams please report to your stations. Passenger Notification Teams, Emergency Elevator Teams, Emergency Medical Team please report to your stations. All other crewmembers please remain at your stations and await further instructions

Bleary eyed and run by adrenaline half of us still in pajamas, the Passenger Notification Team reports to the front office and looks at each other, waiting for instructions. Waiting to see whether or not we have to post signs informing the passengers of the location of the blaze, or if we’re doing stand-in-the-hallways duty. For my part, I ended up standing mid-ship with three others, sending befuddled passengers back to their rooms

Please sir, just stay in your stateroom until you hear further announcements, no ma’am there’s no need to panic the situation is under control..

Your heart turns over and clenches as you realize that as you pass the deck one forward doors, you can smell smoke.

It clenches again when you remember you live on A-deck forward…

Crazy the things that go through your head, but that cannot show on your face. All that matters is keeping people calm, and everything they tell us in training is true, in a real emergency 60% of people will do absolutely nothing…

It’s ironic really, that we’re in the middle of a huge body of water, and yet the most terrifying thing you can have on a ship is a fire.

Everything’s fine, everyone’s fine, though getting back to sleep is going to be an exercise in futility I suspect…

But not a moment I’d like to relive…also not one I’ll forget….