Continuing the story of Kevin Koban’s voyage of the damned.
(Florida Keys, 23 March 2020) – Land ahoy! Champagne corks are popping as my relieved shipmates cheer the welcome sight of Florida Keys, edging closer and closer to Miami, the latest ‘final destination’ on what was supposed to be our cruise around South America.
We are now, of course, in NORTH American waters, a continent adrift from our scheduled disembarkation from this calamity cruise at Lima in Peru – where my dreams of flying home to Hong Kong began to unravel, with our luxury liner ‘Oceania Marina’ refused admittance because of the Corona Crisis.
Our 12-day ‘adventure of a lifetime’, as my travel agent prophetically described it, is now approaching a month, and we are still stuck aboard with our Captain, Mike, hopefully seeking somewhere, anywhere, to let us in!
But even with apparent safe haven of Miami in sight, I am not entirely convinced we will be permitted to land.
The way things are going, this jinxed trip seems increasingly doomed to become a misadventure FOR a lifetime – bearing uncanny similarity to the legendary Marie Celeste, which coincidentally vanished not far from here in the haunted Bermuda Triangle.
Captain Mike is not exactly re-assuring either. He continues to describe the prospect of actually docking at Miami rather vaguely as “our best bet” – disarmingly admitting: “To be honest, I won’t lie to you, it’s still all a bit up in the air at the moment, to be fair.”
I must admit his expression ‘up in the air’ seems rather odd, since we are quite obviously at sea, but given the exceptional circumstances I suppose even Captain Mike is become somewhat delusional.
The rest of my shipmates certainly are.
Because on top of everything else the temperature outside on deck is unbearable – a stinking hot 33 degrees, coupled with drenching spirit-sapping humidity. As the rather fetching bikini-clad local TV weathergirl vividly summarised while we passaged the Panama Canal a few days ago: ”Estar Scorchio!!!”
On the bright side, I’m befriending loads of new drinking buddies as more and more shipmates find sanctuary from the intolerable heat in the air-conditioned comfort of Tropicana Bar, with nothing better to do than drown our sorrows in duty-free booze.
In the spirit of seafaring camaraderie, I am whiling away the days quaffing ‘rum cola’ and margaritas with my new best friends from Mexico, Columbia and various other exotic nationalities of the world. We are like a United Nations of like-minded bar hoppers, united by an uncertain future; sharing a common bond of social boozing that knows no national divide.
As I frequent toast in nautical fashion over our now traditional post-breakfast, all-day cocktail hours: “All for one and one for all!” To which my Spanish-speaking buddies typically chorus: “Olé Olé Olé Olé! Living it up in the Hotel Tropicana!”
So, for now, this is our life aboard, in maritime limbo, venturing into the unknown, having lost all touch with reality and the outside world.
But are we really in hell? Or are we in fact in heaven?
This is a metaphysical conundrum the ship chaplain calmly poses at our daily prayers for survival. And I must confess, at Tropicana Bar the boundaries are rapidly narrowing. Because by astonishing luck and with amazing foresight, we all smartly purchased the ‘all you can drink’ option on our cruise package – which is turning out to be truly miraculous, dare I say ‘heavenly’ value for money! So to any doubters, I say “There is a God!”
As I always like to say, ‘the road goes on forever, but the party never ends!’ Although for now we can only wait and see what cruel luck and strange destiny tomorrow brings.
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