Cruise Ship Fire Story - Pt 3 (final chapter)

Alright, Lemme put this baby to bed if I can. As I said last night, I know
what happened from my point of view and it's been corroborated with others -
but names, dates, places, etc get pretty sketchy from here on out. You'll
see why:

So I jump in the tender before anyone can stop me and we head over to the
Rotterdam. On board are some pursers, random Staff the soundman, and the
trumpeter and drummer. The Sax player and Band leader were conspicuously
absent.

We disembark on the Rotterdam, and it's a friggin WONDERLAND - everything is
bright and clean and new and the ship does not reek of diesel oil (which our
ship ALWAYS did). It was beautiful. At this point, I've been awake for
roughly 24 hours straight, with about an hour or two "nap" in between. I'm
tired and hungry, but I'm so amped up on adrenaline that I can't even think
about sleeping.

We go to the PASSENGER dining room (woo hoo!) and chow down.ALL food and
Drinks are FREE for Regent Star refugees - along with generous offers to
sign up for a Holland America cruise, of course.

Free Booze? Hell yeah!! Drummer, Trumpeter and I make our way to the bar. I
order scotch and soda, lay a 20 on the table and tell the bartender that I
don't EVER want to see this glass empty...

(Oh, right - somewhere in this part of the story, I meet the bass player
from April Wine ("Sign Of The Gypsy Queen"). He was leading a jazz trio in
the lounge, and was a friend of the soundman. I remember watching him play
Well You Needn't. Good player. Nice guy. Don't remember his name.)

As we're working on the first round, one of the pursers, a petulant gay guy
comes up and tells us that we can't get drunk because we have to "work".

At that instant, it hit the Drummer and me like a HAMMER - we're FIRED!! We
can do whatever we want! *** 'em, what are they going to do, fire us again?
I had no idea what was next, but I was determined to milk this little
adventure for everything I could, as payback.

We started knocking them back like there was no tomorrow, and convinced the
trumpet player to do the same. Next time the purser came in, he had a hissy
fit and threatened to fire us. I remember telling him to go *** himself,
because we were already fired...

At this point, things get rather fuzzy. I remember sitting on the floor of
the casino, watching the trumpet player puke into a change bucket; I
remember all of us sitting on the floor of some office while the pursers
dealt with pissed off passengers. What the hell did they THINK we would
contribute anyway?


After what seemed like another day, we pulled into an unfamiliar port. It
was dark, so it must have been 3 or 4 AM There were about 20 coach busses
waiting for us.

We were on yet another long journey through the groovy Alaskan wilderness.At
one point, the busses were loaded onto flat bed rail cars and taken through
dense forest. No sleep yet. Drunkenness wears off with no hangover. Seems
like there are a whole lot more people with us now, a pretty random sample -
The Hotel Manager, the Sequencer Duo, the pursers, the Art Dealers.

After what seemed like yet another 12 hours we arrive in Anchorage Alaska,
well off our normal route. They put us up at the Westmark - pretty swanky
digs, considering.

At this point, I think I have been up for something like 3 days straight
without so much as closing my eyes. I'm laughing uncontrollably,
hallucinating, and can't put a coherent sentence together. Get to the room,
turn on the TV, and there's our ship on CNN...I call my mother to let her
know that I'm OK, but I can't talk because I'm laughing so much. Now that it
looks like we're finally out of danger, I make an attempt to get some
sleep...


The next 4 days (maybe?) were rather interesting. There were about 25 of us
in all, and the Hotel Manager was hooking us UP - he was our Sugar Daddy.
Breakfast lunch and dinner were taken care of. Thai food for 25? No problem.
Clothes, Phone cards, money to go out? Done. He always had a MASSIVE bank
roll on him, and paid in cash. I got to checkout the nightlife in Anchorage
(or lack thereof). Had a guy offer me a steady gig too. The drummer and I
were keeping our eyes open for any way to scam free tickets home, but we
didn't want to tip our hand to the Hotel Manager.

Lots of information was coming in too; some fact, some rumor: That Regency
was finished, that the fire was MUCH worse than reported, that two
Indonesian Fire Patrol guys were killed fighting the fire, that none of the
fire safety stuff worked - that a broken water main actually put the fire
out, that the whole ship almost exploded.

Regarding these, I can tell you the fire WAS much worse than reported, and
the safety measures were not working, - you can generally figure that for
ANY cruise ship disaster. They do their best to lie and spin to avoid losing
reservations. It's quite possible that these guys died, but deaths aboard
ship are rather Orwellian - no one talks, they never existed.

So one day, we get the word that we're going back to the ship. Great. Same
Bus/train deal, except this time we wind up in this tiny bay/fishing village
called Whittier, Alaska. It's apparent claim to fame is that it was an
emergency base of operations for the President at one time. Apparently, it
was so foggy that bombers couldn't see enough to bomb. Obviously, that is
not a problem now. There were no roads in or out of there, only a train
tunnel through a mountain.

I embark, and The ship smells like burnt marshmallows. My room is OK, except
that some Greek motherfuckers jimmied my lock, used my coffee maker, and
pawed around for cash in my absence. Outside my door, there is a massive
black scortch mark up the wall. On the other side is the 2" steel fire door
that leads to the engine room. It looked like someone had taken a blowtorch
and cut 2 inches off the bottom. Had I been a foot or two closer, I would
probably not be writing this...

Run into the sax player; he said that they wouldn't let him on the tender,
that they have had no power, water or decent food for a week. Also, the band
leader was making him rehearse! I decided not to tell him how I'd been
living.

We spent another week in Whittier. There wasn't much to do but hike in
Denali National Park, eat food that went up a dollar every day we were
there, and watch movies or listen to music when the power was on.

I can't remember how this came about, but one night we put on a show for the
locals at THE shithole bar in town. We played some Jazz jam tunes as a
quartet, then the keyboard player came in. It was OUR gig now, and I didn't
give a ***, so I started calling *** he wouldn't know.. It was great to
see him fumble and sweat when he's not playing the 6 tunes he knows. He
lasted about 3 tunes then left.The highlight of the evening was when the
Ventriloquist did his "blue" act. He was on FIRE, and he brought down the
house.

One more thing: The Coast Guard had taken over the ship, and they were
fucking brutal. Every morning around 7, they would do safety drills where we
often had to report to stations - with a massive bell blast, of course. They
would grab people randomly and interrogate them. They would stage
reenactments of the disaster. And on the other side, the Greeks would grab
us and say stuff like "Tell them you heard the alarm". The problem is if I
say "*** the Greeks" and spill my guts to what I saw, the Coast Guard guys
will hold me as a witness and grill the *** out of me. I decide that the
Coast Guard can figure it out on their own, and say as little as possible. I
mean, they found that the ship's fire alarms were held to together with
TINFOIL, ferchrissake. It doesn't take a genius to add 2+2. We also had
reporters asking questions, and there was a tug of war over what we could
tell them as well.

So things go on like this for a week or so. I have NO idea what's going on,
if I'm fired or not. Bandleader is actually hiding from me, because he
finally called Pro Ship and they told him what I did (Heh...).

One night, the drummer and I ware watching a movie with the dancers, when we
get the ordered to "abandon ship" again. WTF? This time, there's an alarm to
make things clear.


We all run out to the dock and see the problem. One of the ship's ballast
tanks is fucked up, and the ship is listing quite heavily. The mooring ropes
are stretched tighter than I've ever seen. If it isn't fixed, the ship could
roll on it's side and take the whole dock with it.


We all spend the night in the high school gymnasium. Some Staff are on the
verge of mental breakdown. I just decide I've had enough...

When the ship stabilized and we all get back on board, the drummer and I go
to the Hotel Manager and tell him that we "need to go home". He asks if our
contracts are up and we tell him "Yes". I'm counting on the fact that no one
did paperwork on us yet, and that if they did, it's long gone. Also, I'm
hoping that the bandleader is too drunk to come downstairs...

And just like that, we're on our way home. Within the hour, we got train
tickets, plane tickets, AND our back pay. Getting home was another 14 hour
ordeal, and I'm up for two days straight again, but I couldn't believe it
when that last plane touched down in Buffalo.

EPILOGUE:

After that ordeal, I swore I'd never do another ship again. 6 months later I
was in the Caribbean working for Dolphin Cruises.

The cruise ship world is a small one, and I've heard a lot of crazy stories,
rumors and news for other people associated with this event. People have
told me about the acts of bravery staff and crew showed in getting the
passengers out from the lower decks in pitch black smoke, something I didn't
have to deal with. I also heard about the acts of cowardice among the Greek
officers, including the fact that the Captain refused to sound the alarm
because he was afraid of the bad publicity, and an unconfirmed rumor that
some officers escaped in a tender by themselves.

Regency got the Star together and she went out again a few months later. But
after hitting the Panama Canal and running out of money, the Line was done.
I also heard from a purser on the Last Voyage our Hotel Manager had actually
embezzled tens of thousands of dollars on petty cash after the fire. I guess
he figured the line was done. Good for him, and thanks for the hookup.

The drummer moved back to Toronto. I called him a few days after I got home,
but we haven't spoken since. Unlike me, H ewas pretty bitter about the whole
thing, but then he was fresh out of school. I hope he's still playing.

I ran into the sax player in Barbados a few years later, when we were both
on different ships. Like I said the cruise ship world is a small one.

The Trumpet player did a bunch more ships them moved to NY, where He did a
lot of original funk stuff. I used to get his postcards. Wonder what he's up
to now? Nice guy too.


Never heard from the keyboard player again. I've tried to Google him without
success. Maybe he's dead? Good. Fucker.

As for Pro Ship, this is my only bit of naiveté in this tale (I think) .
Believe it or not, I actually called them again. At the time, they were my
only industry contact. I heard the ship had been completely overhauled and I
was wondering if they would consider me for bandleader? For some reason, it
completely slipped my mind that I had violated my contract and screwed them
out of a sizeable sum in plane fare, IN ADDITION to not paying commission on
my back pay. Well, they were not too happy and informed me that the ***
bandleader would be back As it turns out, it's a good thing I didn't get
it...

They weren't too interested in using me on their other lines either. Gee, I
wonder why, dumbass? Eventually I hooked up with some better agents and
consequently, better bandleaders. I've also heard a lot of other "Pro Ship
horror stories" though none approaching mine. Steer clear of them.


Was this the WORST thing that's ever happened to me? Not by a long shot. But
it is the best/funniest adventure story I've got, and the Trump card to
most any gig horror story. It taught me a lot about myself, what I'm capable
of, how to roll with the punches, and how to stand up and fight for yourself
in the world of business.

It also made me much more safety conscious; not in the "nervous Nellie"
way - but I took my subsequent SOLAS training very seriously; I actually
read the stuff in the airplane seatpocket and check the exits; I count the
doors to the stairway in hotels. I've learned that fear and panic come from
the unknown, and I think the secret to survival is to eliminate the unknown
as much as possible.


Anyway, that's my story and I'm stickin' to it. Hope you enjoyed the
miniseries, or at least you weren't too bored by it. Hell, I may have
written the first Usenet NOVEL.


I'll also open the floor to questions, if anybody has them.

--
Lessons, music and more at www.jmsjazz.com

Conservatives are not necessarily stupid,
but most stupid people are conservatives."
- John Stuart Mill









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