Post by Ella.
We were warned. The announcement over the intercom, which, by the way, is given in Norwegian, German and English, tells us to hang onto our hats, rough seas with swells twice as big as the night before, to begin in 30 min, lasting a couple of hours. Put away glassware (if you’ve snitched a wine glass from the bar, for example…), don’t leave your devices on the desk, and so on. Just happens that we will be in rough sea during our allotted dinner time (8:00pm). Gulp.
This is a ferry, not a humongous cruise ship. Even though there are stabilizers that cut down 80% of the rocking from waves coming at you from the side, nothing can be done when you crash through waves head on.
The snoozing troll awakes and looks a bit green, though the seas are still calm.
Should we, shouldn’t we.down a sea sickness tablet? They take about an hour to start working. Now, we have only 15 min til rockin and rollin begins. Okay sure, why not?
The waves hit. We head up one deck to dinner. Hanging on to handrails. Staggering, like two drunks, across open areas. A couple of staff people are darting around, hooking arms with the less stable among us. I am feeling pleased to have sturdy sea legs. The troll, on the other hand, is looking, ahem, unsure.
As we enter the dining area, a heavy set, older woman (with her shoulder in a sling), goes down in front of us. Her husband, trying to catch her, goes down with her. Three waiters have rushed over, the woman (American) is yelling “don’t step on my glasses!”. The couple are hoisted up. One waiter asks if she is okay and if she wants to go to sick bay. The woman snaps, “where’s my table? Just take me to my table”. That drama plays out with her bursting into tears a little while later and being led to sickbay. An hour later, she is wheeled back in a loaner wheel chair and enjoys her dinner and re-telling her tale…over and over.
With no warning, an extra huge swell hits, glassware and bread baskets go flying off tables and counters. All the food that had been plated and ready to serve slides violently to the floor. Stacks of dishes ready to be washed are in pieces on the floor. Though we are safely seated, the troll is frozen in place. There is no humoring the troll.
He’s lost his appetite, he says. For this troll, this is highly unusual. Nonetheless, he manages to polish off dinner (though the food isn’t that great, it passes some muster) and lights up at the sight of ice cream for dessert.
Back in the cabin, I go into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes. There is the troll, hard asleep in bed. Not to wake again until 7 in the morning when the intercom announces we will be crossing the Polar Circle in 25 minutes. Come up on deck and toast the crossing with champagne.
Great story.
Thanks.