Readers of this blog know that I love ships. I love being on
them, I love seeing them, I love reading about them and I love imagining what
it would have been like to be on a specific ship.
In the latter category I think of the French liner Normandie, thought by most ship
aficionados to be the most gorgeous ship ever built. This art deco beauty
boasted some of the most lushly appointed public rooms afloat, rivaling those
on shore. The glasswork, from the chandeliers to the water glasses, was by
Lalique; the fabrics on the walls and furniture were of extraordinary quality; and the first class dining room was the largest and most beautiful room at sea (pictured).
Alas, this lovely lady met a sad and undignified fate, burning
and capsizing while tied up at a New York pier during World War II.
I didn’t sail the Normandie,
but I did manage three voyages on another storied liner, Queen
Elizabeth 2: a Caribbean holiday and two
transatlantic crossings. Every day on board the last of the great ocean liners–
at least until her sister, Queen Mary 2,
was launched – was a day to cherish. The extravagant meals, the theatre shows
of Broadway quality, the guest lectures, the afternoon teas and ballroom
dancing in the Queens Lounge all added to the thrill.
However, the greatest experience of all was born in jealousy
and ended in enmity.
In 1977 my cruise mate Don and I sailed QE2 from New York to
Boston to the Caribbean and back. It was a two week cruise full of all the
above-mentioned diversions, and one more that soon became unavailable to
passengers: we were taken to a crew bar and enjoyed the lively camaraderie of dining
room workers and other crew members. Cunard didn’t encourage this mingling, but
neither did they forbid it.
After one of these visits Don ventured out on deck where
Ricky, a waiter, led him to the very tip of the bow. Of course neither of them
belonged there; Ricky would have been fired immediately; Don would have faced a
stern tongue-lashing.
When Don told me about it the next day I was overcome with
jealousy. I hated that I had missed the adventure, and was determined to
experience it myself. Later that night, finding ourselves in the crew bar again,
I managed to convince Ricky to take me, and then covertly, and selfishly, gave
Don the slip.
It was everything Don had said it was. He remembers most the
incredible stars visible from that vantage point. My memory is of the intense
wind: the twenty-plus knots QE2 was
pulling, added to whatever wind there was that night. I also remembered how
high above the water we were and how dark and dangerous the ocean looked from
way up there. It was intense, magical, scary, and thrilling; my heart was
pumping madly.
We managed to get back safely and undiscovered. (As I look
back I am amazed Ricky pulled this off two nights in a row without getting
caught. I mean, we must have been perfectly visible from the bridge, had anyone
been looking.)
When I next saw Don he was furious. I had lied to him and
had bullied my way into something that had been very special to him. I would
have had just as much fun if Don had come with us, but I was too selfish to
realize that.
I am sorry I behaved as I did. I am even more sorry that I
caused a rift that kept Don and me apart for two years. I am thankful that he
graciously accepted my long-overdue apology when it was finally proffered.
But I still thrill at the memory of standing at the very tip
of QE2. Long before Leonardo DiCaprio had his “king of the world” moment aboard
Titanic, Don and I each had ours on her cousin.
This is obviously not the QE2, but I love the image, and it shows you just where we stood on QE2:
right at the very point that seems about to hit Lady Liberty.
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