I'm On A Boat

We came to Richmond on a boat - an ocean liner called the Queen Mary 2. Technically you aren't supposed to call it a cruise ship (or a boat) but that's what it most closely resembles to the non-ocean liner snob set.

Since my company paid one-way transportation to London, the expense of the trip was offset by the amount of one-way airfare for the three of us. This worked to our advantage since:

1. One way airfare is a ripoff

2. An extra nine-year old in your cabin on a cruise ship is discounted, but 

3. A nine-year old on a plane is full ripoff fare.

I feel like I owe the world an explanation of how taking the QM2 really wasn't some ridiculous extravagance. I'm from Ohio where we aren't so comfortable with excess, but there is no denying that the QM2 is a bit excessive.

For one thing, it's excessively large.

For some reason it doesn't say in this picture, but the black shape is the Titanic.

When constructed it was the largest passenger ship in the world. It has since been eclipsed by several larger ships but it's a whopper by any standard. An ocean liner snob would point out that these larger ships are cruise ships, not you-know-whats. 

Also, it is largely populated by excessively old people. I saw a greater assortment of motorized conveyance than I ever dreamed existed, and while I like older people fine and am generally pretty patient, a horde of geriatrics on scooters can really jam up the buffet.

Which brings us to the most excessive aspect of the QM2: the dining.  There were many options for eating. There are three dining rooms, although your class of cabin dictates which ones are available to you; we were barred from eating at either The Princess Grill or The Queen's Grill and had to make do with The Britannia. (I find the punctuation of these restaurants' names a little suspect. It seems that they've foregone consistency and clarity to avoid the awkward pronunciation of  "Princess's Grill", but in the process have subtly implied that you may have the option of dining on the royal flesh of an heir to the throne.) These spots required some degree of dressing up, from shirts with sleeves at breakfast and lunch to three nights of "formal" dress, when most folks were dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns.

We enjoyed the dressing up. As you may know, we are not that fancy but it was fun to pretend. 

There were also a variety of other face-stuffing options - 24-hour room service, a pub, several poolside and specialty cafes, as well as a Todd English restaurant (NOT included in the all-inclusive inclusiveness).

Saving the worst for last, there was also the twenty-four hour a day binge-fest at the King's Court Buffet. We lovingly referred to it as "The Trough". Here, passengers who could not be bothered to put on trousers gorged on a variety of mediocre fare. Most of the time it was mobbed. We ate breakfast there a few times. It was also fun for a late night snack after the scooter crowd turned in. 

It rarely looked like this.

In addition to the excessive food, there was also an excess of activities and entertainment - dance classes (waltz, tango, samba, cha-cha and line), live music (including the fabulous Juilliard Jazz Orchestra), a casino, board games, planetarium, pub quiz, karaoke, library, Kid's Zone, shopping, hot tubs, deck chairs, pools, table tennis, paddle ball, live shows (a little bit Lawrence Welk-y), afternoon tea, a disco, Canyon Ranch Spa, two performances by a group from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, shuffleboard, bingo, a knitting group, bridge lessons, a series of lectures by the ship's architect to commemorate its 200th Atlantic crossing...

And finally, thanks to my excellent traveling companions, there was an excess of fun. I really had very low expecations of the experience - I wasn't sure if it would be too fancy or too boring or too whatever - but we all had a pretty fantastic time of it.

And at the end, we arrived in the UK. This is Miller, setting eyes on his new home from our balcony on the ship: the end of the beginning of an adventure that none of us will ever forget.