aawww rats!
27 November 2007
So, where was I? Just arriving in Nassau from memory and leaving everyone hanging with the enigmatic sentence about it being the last pleasant thing that happened to me. A couple of people have emailed since then insisting that I don’t keep them in suspense but unfortunately I’ve been kind of tied up the last few days with sleeping, unpacking, washing and trying to sort out the almost 7000 photos I have. But here I am and ready to continue with the story
It was dark when we landed in Nassau so I really didn’t get much of an opportunity to see the island as we came in but those that have been keeping up with the story will remember that I got to spend a day here in my first week on the other ship so it wasn’t quite the novelty that it may have been otherwise. At that point, after having spent so long sitting in the Fort Lauderdale airport and then on the plane I was just keen to do something and the plan was to store my bags and get to the casino to kill the few hours before my flight back. I hadn’t booked a hotel or anything figuring that with just 8 odd hours between arriving and leaving it just wasn’t worth the added expense. What with getting in and out of the airport and to and from the hotel I would have spent only a couple of hours in the room and gotten no sleep anyway. The plan was to either go to the big casino on Paradise Island or, at the very worst, sit in the airport and watch movies on my laptop. Getting to the customs guy the first question he asked was where I was staying. I had to explain that I was only there long enough to get a flight back to the States and he nodded knowledgably but then said that there really wasn’t anywhere to sit in the airport. He pointed me towards the information desk and a woman he said would be able to get me a room if I wanted it or at least give me my options. Going up to her I was told that cab fare to the casino would be $60 (!) and that there wasn’t anywhere at the airport I would be able to store my bags anyway. She said that she could arrange a hotel room for me but agreed that it was silly for the amount of time I had. That just left sitting in the airport itself and she seemed a bit dubious about it and said that there were just a few hard plastic chairs in the arrival area. By now I was tired, hungry, thirsty and just wanted to sit down and wait quietly. I still had 2 more flights to get to Orlando and just wanted the whole thing to be over with; the excitement of international jet (or propeller) travel was wearing off.
Dragging my bags behind me I wandered through a very small airport in search of the promised hard plastic chairs. When I say a very small airport I mean it. Admittedly there were signs saying that work was being done to improve it but it could still have been used a location for a movie needing a small tropical island airport, which I guess would be typecasting but accurate none the less. There was not a coke machine to be found although I did eventually find a machine that dispensed what must have been local versions of soft drinks. There were a number of fruit flavoured drinks with names I didn’t recognise but I was so thirsty at that point that I really didn’t care. I bought a couple and sank gratefully onto the hard plastic chairs with my feet up on my bags and settled in for the long wait.
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew I was being woken up by a woman security guard who told me that I couldn’t stay inside the terminal itself because they shut it up at night. When I told her I didn’t have many options and nowhere to go for the next few hours she seemed sympathetic but still told me that I would have to wait outside until they reopened at 4am. Now I had 5 hours to wait outside with only the light coming through the glass doors of the terminal to read by. Luckily it was warm and not raining but sitting on the concrete ledge of a garden while trying to angle the pages of my book in an attempt to get the maximum amount of light onto it was not going to be fun. Then it happened.
Rats! At first it was just one and he was walking along a ledge at the edge of the roof above me. I sat watching him warily with one eye while trying to continue reading with the other. Rats are not my favourite thing and it was pretty near impossible to concentrate on the history of the Lewis and Clark expedition while I knew he was up there somewhere in the dark. Horrible little bastard. Then I noticed a rat in the garden a few meters in front of me. I was hoping at first that it was the same rat because that would mean that it was just the one out there. Not to be, unfortunately, as more and more rats began to appear. They were getting into the rubbish bins, running from one little patch of garden to the other and giving me the evil eye at all times. By now I was standing with the book forgotten and visions of rats getting into my bags. Every little sound made me jump and whirl around and I was constantly imaging I could feel things brushing against my legs. It didn’t take me long to decide that this was not a good spot to sit so I gathered up my bags and made as much noise as I could moving further down the outside of the building towards the doors at the departure end of the terminal.
When I got to those doors I found a much bigger area with no garden and no rubbish to attract the rats and there were actually some chairs to sit on, presumably for the comfort of smokers because there were a couple of large ashtrays nearby. At this point the smell of stale smoke was the least of my worries and I sat gratefully on the chairs, stacked my bags up in front of me and waited for the rats to arrive. A bit of time went by and despite jumping at the slightest sound I hadn’t seen a sign of a rat. They obviously kept to the areas that had gardens and stayed away from large exposed areas. All I had to do was stay in the light and I figured that I should be alright. I even got my book out again and started reading. Then the next thing happened.
A car came past with airport security written on the side of it and stopped on the roadway in front of me. I was beckoned over by the guard in the passenger and I went over to the car trying to look nonchalant while still keeping a wary eye on my bags and another even warier eye out for approaching rodents. Then I was given the third degree. Luckily I had all the documentation I could ever hope for and I had cleverly kept all of it in my pocket for easy access. I was able to show my passport, disembarkation paperwork from the ship, onward boarding pass etc. I can certainly appreciate that they were doing what needed to be done and was impressed that even on a small tropical island they made real sure that I was who I said I was and that I had a reason to be there. I think the fact that I seemed so calm (despite the rats) and had so much paperwork with me may have allayed any suspicions but they still said that they would have a chat with their boss and maybe take me back to their office with them. I eagerly said that that would be a good idea, visions of food, drink and maybe a TV dancing through my head. By now I only had 4 hours to wait until the place opened up again and only 6 until the plane left but a safe comfortable place to wait seemed very inviting. Unfortunately they drove off and all of saw of them for the rest of the night was the car driving past occasionally with a jaunty wave from the passenger and the occasional toot of the horn from the driver if I was too absorbed in my book to notice them. I must have passed muster with their boss or maybe he just didn’t want to have to entertain a cheap tourist who couldn’t afford to book a hotel room.
So, that’s where I spent my night, locked out of the terminal building and with the constant threat of rats and arrest hanging over my head. Have I mentioned how big they were, the rats that is, not the security guys? About the size of small dogs, or maybe large dogs, no wait, Shetland ponies seems more accurate.
Eventually 6 o’clock arrived and I was let gratefully back into the terminal. A trip to the men’s room and then a stop at a vending machine for a drink and I was much happier. I checked in my bags and joined the growing queue for customs and immigration. I’ve never seen this before but I had to clear US customs and immigration at Nassau airport before getting on the flight. A fairly fast and simple procedure since I had all the paperwork on me and as soon as I said that I had only entered Nassau as a means of getting back into the States after my contract the immigration guy gave me a look like I was the hundredth person who had said that to him and I probably was. The only confusion was which form to fill in. Now that I have a US crewman’s visa, rather than just entering as a Kiwi under the visa waiver program, I have to fill out a different form and enter under that visa. But it was all figured out and I was soon winging my way back to Miami on my old propeller driven friend.
Having done all the official stuff in Nassau it was just a matter of getting off the plane in Miami and finding my next gate. A 4 hour wait was nothing given the opulent luxury of being inside, having access to abundant junk food and the biggest noxious pests being the small kids running feral. Another short flight and I was in Orlando, a place with such a mystical name for me I’ve often thought that I would never make it there. It had taken on a never to be obtained status and to stand at the conveyor belt waiting for my bags and to see the name plastered everywhere was just plain exciting. Then I simply had to get a taxi to my hotel. Easy to find as it turned out because this is one place that is really geared towards, and used to moving, large amounts of dumb tourists around. There was a momentary surprise at my being on my own rather than a family but the taxi driver knew where I wanted to go and we set off.
Orlando is actually only about 100 miles away from where I had been in Fort Lauderdale so nothing seemed overtly unusual to me on the drive. I was even starting to get faintly used to being on the wrong side of the road and was only having momentary feelings of shock at catching a glimpse of a seemingly driverless car. What did unbalance me a little was my first road sign pointing the way to Walt Disney World. This was real, it was literally just down the road and I was going there. The cabbie must have wondered what I found so amusing about a road sign but it wasn’t amusement just a deep feeling of excitement and satisfaction that was putting the smile on my face.
It was only about a 40 minute drive but cost me $80 including a generous tip. Tipping has become an €˜I know what it’s like’ thing so I did find myself being generous to others in the hope that fate or karma or whatever will pay me back. The road that my hotel was on seemed to go on forever and seemed to consist entirely of cheap hotels, fast food and places selling discount souvenirs. Anyone who fears that Australia is turning into a fast food country need only visit Orlando to see that we are so far from the saturation point of America that there is little to worry about for the moment. From the car park of my hotel I could find 6 fast food outlets within 100 meters and that’s not to mention the service station that had a grocery section that would put many a supermarket to shame. I must admit that I tried the Ihop (very ordinary) and the Boston Lobster Feast (not bad) but otherwise I ended up eating inside the Disney parks, despite my promise that I wouldn’t in order to save money.
When I start to talk about my hotel I really should call it a really large Motel. It was 3 separate 3 story buildings with enormous amounts of parking. In retrospect the room was pretty bad but at the time, having come out of that very small shared cabin, I found it ample and luxurious. To call the place a dive would be accurate but it was cheap (you get what you pay for), close to the parks and, as the saying goes, I was just sleeping there.
So there I was, in Orlando and with my 10 day Disney pass in hand (purchased handily in the Hotel lobby) and a pocket full of US cash to spend on Disney souvenirs. The adventure of the cruise ship had ended and the very personal adventure of Walt Disney World was about to begin. I don’t think I’ll bore the people of this list with the details of what I did in WDW, I think that’s of interest to a very small, specialised group and I’ll be putting my trip report on my Disney web site.
For the end of these tales of the Caribbean I can only say that it was truly an experience, both good and bad. I doubt that there is anything in life that can be fully experienced without bad and good, you need the lows in order to really appreciate the highs and it’s often the lows that make the best stories in years to come. The most obvious question at this stage is, will I go and do it again? The answer is, probably. In that case I should be winging my way back in about 4 weeks to take it all on again, a different ship, a different itinerary and a different bunch of people. Hopefully I’ll make it to Europe or Alaska at some point, although when I return the majority of cruises are Caribbean based so it seems as though I’ll be back to the sun, sand and surf of those tropical climes. I just have to sit here now and wait for an email telling me which ship is mine and then I can go and book my airfare. I’ll keep you posted.
Greg