Chapter 20
As we pull into Liverpool, I start to feel a little lighter.
Despite living in London for the past twenty-five years, the further north I go, the more I feel at home.
It’s like comfort food for the soul. I’ve only been to Liverpool once for a weekend with Jason and his obsession with the Beatles.
I like the Beatles – who doesn’t? But do I care where John Lennon grew up or where they all went to school?
Not so much. Now, a trip to Nashville? I’d be there in a cowboy hat, screaming ‘TAKE MY MONEY’.
Jason hated the fact that I adore country music, despite also loving a million different genres.
The day he packed up and left, Johnny Cash played him the hell out.
I grab a cab to the airport from the taxi rank outside.
When the driver asks where I’m headed, I tell him I’m going to Tenerife with my sister, just in case he has some horror cruise story he feels the need to share.
I don’t need to hear about that time he went on a trip with his missus and caught the black plague from some unwashed lettuce.
While I don’t have a sister, I’m pretty sure that if I did, I’d be dragging her on this cruise with me for moral support.
I check in at the airport, which confirms that I did not forget my passport and need to dial down my neurosis.
I still check again in the security queue, just to be safe.
I head straight to Starbucks and grab my third coffee of the day, knowing that the last thing I need is more caffeine.
I figure the breakfast wrap I’ve also purchased might somehow soak up my nerves.
My flight leaves in fifty minutes, and in four hours, I’ll be in Palma, one step closer to seven days at sea.
Once we land, I pick up my cases and catch the transfer bus to Port de Palma.
I notice several passengers from the flight, two of which have already started arguing.
Apparently, the husband forgot to pack the red sliders that his now unhappy wife couldn’t fit in her case because ‘you know how effing swollen my feet get in the heat’.
Half an hour later, we get to the port and the ship is already there.
Having never seen a cruise ship in my life, except in pictures, I’m stunned.
This beast looks to be at least two hundred feet tall.
Like Godzilla with on-board spa facilities.
I’ve already checked in online, so I drop off my bags before going through yet another round of security.
There are literally hundreds of people here; it’s like a sea of colourful shorts and fake tan.
Maybe I should have got a spray tan. My translucent skin may make me harder to spot if I fall overboard.
I can’t help feeling like Billy no-mates as I’m surrounded by couples and families, but I won’t be the only solo traveller feeling like this, surely?
Even just one other passenger experiencing mild anxiety will make me feel like less of a loser.
I finally board the ship, and enter a huge, brightly lit, multi-levelled atrium.
Holy shit, this is massive. There are staircases, glass lifts, seating areas and even a grand piano.
To my left, I see an already crowded bar-slash-eatery and, to the right, a walkway leading to the on-board shopping area.
Kids are playing, passengers are chatting, and staff are running around, all while I stand there looking up like it’s the first time I’ve ever seen ceilings.
There’s no way I’m going to be able to navigate this without Waze and a barometer.
The rooms aren’t ready yet, so I ask a bubbly woman in her twenties named Jenny what happens in the meantime.
She happily informs me that I can ‘begin my adventure’ by exploring and getting a feel for the ship.
Have something to eat at the buffet or dive right into one of the many pools onboard.
As my swimming costume is stuffed inside wherever the hell my suitcase currently is, I decide exploring is a more realistic option.
She also advises that the muster drill is held on the second-floor auditorium and, although compulsory, I can attend at any point before we depart in two hours.
Before I can ask her anything else, she bounces off, no doubt to speak to guests who know what the fuck a muster drill is.
I climb the stairs looking for the auditorium, and follow everyone inside.
It’s yet another massive space, colourful, with an Imax-style screen on the stage.
I presume this is where the nightly shows are performed or perhaps where they hold the reaping for the next Hunger Games participants.
We’re welcomed and shown the muster drill video presentation which, as it turns out, is just like a pre-flight safety demonstration.
Lots of things are covered, including life jacket location and how to inflate them, the sound of the ship’s emergency signal and, most importantly, where to go when the iceberg hits.
There’s an air of excitement in the room, mixed with exhaustion as it’s 6 p.m. and everyone has presumably been up since the crack of dawn.
Despite my previous concerns, no one throws me pity glances or looks at me like I’m a friendless failure.
In fact, no one really looks at me at all.