Terry’s Theory: Discomfort during disembarkation is good for you
Oh, the joys of Holiday Travel. My flight is three hours late due to the snowstorm in the Northeast, in South Florida there are also heavy rains and tornado warnings. The Fort Lauderdale Airport is packed, every seat in the waiting area taken. There is nothing to eat but over-priced bags of candy and Chex Mix. I recognize most of the people in the waiting area from the ship. None of them look as if they just got off a restful cruise, they look downright cranky and I assume it’s all because of the flight delays and another uncomfortable, incompetent disembarkation.
I have a theory about disembarkation; I think cruise lines intentionally make them awful. Call it, “tough love.” They force you out of your cabin at the crack of dawn only to wait in cold, drafty public areas for bag tag colors that never get called on time; bad management or a clever ploy? Think about it. Is disembarkation made painful for your own good? We, as an industry, would be negligent were we not to do something traumatic, because, we, as an industry, are responsible for creating your helpless state after days, weeks, even months of constant coddling and pampering. Without this rude re-entry into the real world you might be at risk for abuse in the cold cruel world beyond the gangway.
The process is as uncomfortable and as necessary as a mother bird pushing her chick out of the nest and as I look at the previously relaxed faces of the now very up-tight people around me, I reflect on how well we did our job.
“Terry, what are YOU doing here?” asked a lady from the ship. I fear that she is going to vent her anger at me over some disembarkation mishap that I had nothing to do with so I quickly explain that I too am going home or at least trying, which now looks dubious as the weather delays have caused me to miss my connection in Dallas. “I guess we are all in the same boat - again!” she laughs. We chat about the cruise from Cape Town to Ft. Lauderdale, the beautiful dinner under the stars in Namibia, the phenomenal capoeira dancers who performed onboard the ship in Fortaleza and the PBS speakers like Gwen Ifill who added so much to the last week. Two other people join our conversation, then two more. Before long the long faces vanish and everyone reminisces fondly about the cruise. Phew! Another mission accomplished.
As the plane starts to board the lady I was speaking with turns to me and says, “That’s us dear. Doesn’t Regent fly you First Class?” I smile and wish her a good flight. As I sit in 10E, my middle seat on this hot, cramped, full flight from Ft. Lauderdale to Dallas, surrounded by crying babies, sneezing adults and a man who has removed his shoes to dry his wet socks, I wonder if the airline’s have an ulterior motive for their brand of torture? I close my eyes and try to remember why I do this. But like the horror of disembarkation this too shall pass and in no time I, like my fellow travelers, will be enthusiastically ready for yet another cruise.