Two days ago, we were told to be ready to board our ship for departure on a 3-1/2-year cruise after four months of delays. We would be boarding at 4:00 in the afternoon1, that's 16:00 for the serious travelers or prior military amongst us. The shuttle buses had been arranged to pick us up at a few sites in rainy Belfast at designated times, and we were champing at the bit to get the show on the road. Many of our shipmates were scattered throughout the world and, sadly, were going to miss the great send off.
We were waiting in an apartment in Belfast with another couple from the ship. It was after normal checkout, but the owner was fine with us staying late. We had been told we were leaving before and extended our stay more than once. We were checking the position of our ship online. It showed that it had not moved from the repair site to the cruise terminal for boarding. Over one hundred people had checked out of their hotels and taken all their stuff to the cruise terminal to board. There were people from the press there watching all this happen. Would our ship become the target of pity or celebration tonight? Would we finally be departing in victory, or scurrying away like port rats trying to find lodging in Belfast at the last minute again?
Stories were flying around about what was going on. This one didn't like the way that one worded something on some paperwork. Someone else had not seen the proper documentation that this one said was already done. WTF. Was it happening again? Were they really going to stop us from starting?
The messages started flying on WhatsApp. Mike, the CEO, had just arrived at the cruise terminal and was talking to everyone there. He said the ship was going to arrive soon. Then someone messaged that he had just received a phone call. Another person asked what his expression looked like. Was it good news or bad? Someone else said we better get ready to find hotel rooms. Others from around the world who were watching said they were cheering for us.
Then the message was that Mike had just said to get over there. A moment later, the official announcement came from Kathy, the COO, "Holy Shit, We Got The Approval, Finally!" Despite all the good news, I could not help but check to see if our Odyssey had moved from the repair docks. It was finally out into the harbor and on its way to the cruise terminal.
We grabbed our phones and ordered a couple of cabs for us to move to the ship. We needed two because we had so much stuff. The app that had gotten us so many cabs over the past months in Belfast responded quickly. It said it was searching for a taxi to take our request. Five minutes later, it was still looking. We canceled the request and called the other cab company in town to try them. Fortunately, by the time we had our backpacks, duffel bags, grocery bags, and bags of yarn out of the apartment, they were arriving.
The cruise terminal was somewhere we had never been before. Always the Harland and Wolf repair site before. The two buses parked in front of the terminal had familiar faces aboard from residents that we knew over the past several months. Inside were more of our people and piles of luggage and such. And press people. Our little adventure had become media fodder, and they were looking to wrap up this piece. And so were we.
We had a chance to catch up with a few people that we hadn't seen since we left the ship for sea trials over two weeks before. The energy was high, and there was an almost electric buzz about the place. The people who had become media darlings were doing interviews, wearing conspicuous clothing so that they could be spotted among the rabble, while others were laughing and hugging each other. Mike had a hard time getting everyone's attention to let us know that we would leave our large luggage behind to be checked before boarding and we needed to show ID to compare with the manifest in order to board.
Slowly, the terminal emptied, and we made our way up the gangway, hoping it would be the last time we stepped off Belfast soil. After a second check of identification on the ship and inspecting our hand-carried bags, we emptied into the Odyssey. The home that we had only visited before, but where we would finally be sleeping tonight.
Trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres floated among the giddy crowd as we signed the forms stating we weren't sick and were handed our updated key cards. I carried the bottles of gin and Irish whiskey we had acquired while waiting up to the cabin/villa along with the bags of yarn that were to be Dusty's projects over the next days and weeks. She was already in the process of making a granny square sweater for Becky, and the knitted sweater for Randy would come after that.
When I returned to the reception area on deck five, Dusty had begun enjoying the festivities, with a glass of champagne in one hand and a spinach and cheese puff pastry bite in the other. We chatted with all the people that we had gotten to know when we were allowed to visit the ship a few weeks ago. Others boarding were passing by with luggage in tow.
To clear the space, we moved toward the Coral Lounge further to the rear. The champagne seemed to follow us there. We were really on the ship and we were about to leave Belfast. Finally! We kept looking out the massive windows as we waited to see the lights of the city move away from us. Then the whole room began to shake and vibrate. Dusty said if this was going to be the way the ship sounded when we were moving, we were not going to be on here very long.
We worked our way outside to the back of the ship and met up with Alan. He had been about to leave a couple of weeks before and decided to hang in a little longer after chatting with us back in Belfast over a burger and chips. He was still here and thanked us for helping him to decide to stay. We were drifting away from the dock and the vibrations had stopped. The ship was smoothly beginning to gain speed as it moved forward and away from Belfast for what we hoped would be the last time. The ship's horn blew and everyone cheered. Finally. Finally. We were on our way.
As we left the harbor, a pilot's boat raced up behind us and pulled alongside. The local pilot would steer the ship out of the harbor and then be picked up by this smaller boat once we were safely out. The 30' red and white boat followed for a while and then came alongside us. After a bit, they matched speed with us, and you could see the pilot jump from our ship to theirs, and then they returned to Belfast harbor.
In all the excitement and free alcohol, I'm not sure how many people noticed, or even cared, when we slowed and stopped less than thirty minutes later and anchored at sea outside the place where our ship had been sitting for the last five months.
Were we really free yet?
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