Monday, May 24, 2010

Holidays Not Only Start Romances...

I may have just caused a divorce.

To be clear, I didn't create or place the explosive charge, but I may have leaned on the detonator.

I am currently on the cruise ship Pacific Jewel, hugging the Queensland coast. I don't perform until tonight, so at the moment the passengers have no idea that I'm part of the crew. So, when I stood next to one particular passenger at the buffet line, she thought I was simply another sun-lover on holiday (although a glance at my pale complexion might suggest otherwise).

Not everyone would be concerned by the fact that the crab salad was next to the coleslaw, however crab is one of my extensive portfolio of allergies; a small amount ingested, and it would look like I was growing my own neck brace, my lips would swell beyond the desires of the most addicted plastic surgery recipient, my tongue would fatten so much that it would feel like I was trying to chew a bouncy castle, and breathing would take an effort usually reserved for pushing a reluctant teenage elephant. I watched as she took a share of the personally toxic food, and then declined to set the contaminated tongs back down, instead heading them to the salad of my goal. I had to act quickly, touching her on the shoulder and saying “excuse me, please don't.”

She turned, the indignant fire that filled her stout frame burning brightly in her eyes. She was clearly annoyed by the interruption, and downright offended by the fact that I dared place a hand on her, managing to communicate her outrage with the mere word “what?”. With the amount of force and bile she managed to pack into that one syllable, I'm guessing that one of her ancestors can be found in the Bible, wielding a trumpet at Jericho.

As a crew member, I need to tread carefully, in case any perceived misdeed ends up on paper. So, I have made my own effort at condensing, trying to combine politeness, clarity and brevity into my explanation. Apparently the element I missed was believability, as when I have told of my shellfish allergy, she has immediately snapped back with “oh, you are not!”. This took me aback for a moment – my brain whirled with the idea that either she had assessed me medically and come to a different diagnosis, or she thought I had nothing better to do than to police utensil usage in the buffet line. Fighting every urge towards sarcasm, I have played back with a straight bat - “No, I rea-”

“That's really rude! You're really rude, what do you care which tongs I use?”

Part of my thought process was doing a systems check to establish if I'd had a stroke, and wasn't in fact speaking in English. The rest was formulating a response, but the reply that came back wasn't mine.

“Oh, you stupid cow!”



When many couples go on holiday, they have a chance to get away from the grind of the real world, and reconnect in a relaxing setting. Others, however, find out that they are now spending more time together than they're comfortable with. As this lady's husband continued, there was the distinct tone of a camel's back giving way.

“He's got a bloody allergy, why do you get to cause a ruckus just because you can't be bothered changing tongs?”

Intra-couple arguments are called “domestics” because they're supposed to be held at home. This one had become a spectator sport, if you can picture more than half of the spectators trying to focus on anything else in the room. From the few grabs of the resulting din I could pick out, there were accusations of lack of support, quick tempers, and knowing that a cruise was a bad idea (as far as this pair were concerned, they had the rest of the room's silent agreement). After another long, loud minute, the husband has leaned in and snapped “you know what? I'm done.” With that, he has turned and stormed off, leaving behind both his tray, and an awkward silence of such thickness that it could have been used to make a bank vault door.

For ten points and a chance at the bonus round, answer this question; who Lady Shriek's gaze next fall upon?

Fortunately for me, embarrassment set in, and she made her own exit, in the opposite direction to her husband. The silence took a little longer to ebb, but eventually, with a few arched eyebrows between strangers, people have returned to their meals, left to wonder about a possible sequel (to the cabin steward working in this couple's area, I apologise).


And I ended up passing on the coleslaw.

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