FULL DISCLOSURE: QUEEN MARY 2

Granted, having grown up with, and full of memories of movies of glamorous goings-on on luxurious ocean liners - such as Fred and Ginger sashaying under full moonlight across large open decks, (in any number of films); "The Lady Eve", with master con-man Charles Coburn in the first class dining room where his equally conscienceless daughter, Barbara Stanwyck, trips naive and unsuspecting millionaire Henry Fonda in order to initiate their shipboard scam; even "Dodsworth" with a young Walter Houston uncomfortably dressed in his tuxedo every night, trying to keep his lively but snobby errant wife under control - was it any wonder we had very high expectations for our New York - Southampton crossing on the Queen Mary 2?

But from the moment Trev dropped us off at Pier 12 in the Brooklyn Terminal - that was our first red flag - Fred and Ginger would never have been caught boarding a ship in an isolated, forlorn part of Brooklyn! - where would all the photographers gather? - where was all the hustle and glamour of the busy New York harbor? - we were on our Expectation Guard.

As we passed through the now ubiquitous security detectors, we were herded into a serpentine line (Disneyland invention, by the way) in a cold, drafty, barn-like building. No polished wooden paneled counter, no smiling, welcoming, uniformed receptionists. Rather when we finally worked our way up to one of a series of not so modestly dressed young women, she grabbed our plastic (not leather) Cunard Boarding Folder, snapped our photos, gave us several papers to sign (no time to read whatever we were approving), quickly mumbling these gave them permission to charge any purchase or Casino "transactions" directly to our credit card, which they by then had fully notated.

Then she printed out their "credit" cards which we were to use throughout the voyage - no cash, no other credit cards, no checks were accepted. They were also the keys to our room.

Wheeling our hand luggage (the other bags were left at the curb drop off to be delivered, "not necessarily at the same time," to our cabin), up and down a few ramps - where was the gangplank? - we did finally enter the ship and waving the handful of papers we were clutching , were motioned to a reasonably short queue (this is a British ship), where we waited for almost 20 minutes for one of only three available elevators. We were the only ones to ask why the opposite three were not available. Answer from steward in charge of queue: "Oh, they're being used for the baggage."

Second Red Flag: Ginger and Fred standing in line for 20 minutes for an elevator to their stateroom because there weren't any Service Elevators?

By the time we got to Deck 8 and found Corridor B which was so long from one end to the other it would be a perfect place for art students to study the diminishing perspective line, we were grateful that at least our stateroom was, as requested, mid-ship. A morning jog from one end to the other would satisfy any personal trainer, that is if he could see that far to check that you actually made it.

Our splurge-rate cabin did seem a bit small - similar to a room in a modest hotel where you have to stand aside to let your companion pass. As for our "Obstructed View" balcony, well, there were the lifeboats suspended right in front of our railing. But here again, forget Tallulah Bankhead using her diamond bracelet as fish bait in "Lifeboat." These big things are enclosed boats "Seating Capacity 120 passengers," and I don't think tossing out a line would be an option. However, I wasn't too upset, figuring that should we run into any out of the way icebergs, a quick hop over the railing and we were first in. Note: On one of the last days, the Captain did announce that we were passing "....nearby the location of the Titanic". They still go that way?

Note: Only once in the voyage did we open our doors and try to step out onto our balcony, with its rain covered plastic chairs. It was good to breathe fresh air again and listen to the waves, but we were blown right back in, closed the doors and once again heard the loud hum of the air-conditioner.

Not quite another red flag, but one would have expected a bit more than two flutes and a small split of unfamiliar label "Sparkling Wine," as a "Welcome From The Captain." But the photo of the Captain was more of a shock. The Black Adder in High Naval gear is as close as we can come. If I can figure out how, I'll attach a photo, I know you won't believe me otherwise.

Aside: Unfortunately, due to the "inclement weather" the first day out, we missed his cocktail party - I really would have cherished a photo of him between Bob and me.

As we looked around at our fellow passengers we were impressed with the number of passengers in wheelchairs, walkers, limping and using canes, and while it was very nice to see the facilities available for the elderly and disabled, where were all those slim, elegant, handsome, white-haired but hearty passengers whose photos filled the Cunard Queen Mary 2 full color brochures?

Bob said he didn't mind older people, but not all at the same time.

The next Red Flag came as we went back on deck for the Sail Away festivities. There on every open area were tables set up selling splits of real champagne - Veuve Clicquot - (all the better to compare our in-cabin "gift"), at $17 each.

This is a British ship ergo everything is based on Pound Sterling, but all prices have somehow been converted to dollars. Now, in the current world financial status, the pound rich British (most of the passengers) were getting a rather good bargain, while we poor Americans with our tanked dollar found everything outrageously expensive.

Fortunately, we weren't at all interested in Herme scarves, diamond jewelry, or silver souvenirs (Cunard ball point pens $4 - they should have given them away). In fact, we were probably the only passengers with so little, other than the obligatory Service Charge ($11 per day per person) added to our final bill.

Note: As the days went on we saw that like the early days in Las Vegas, Cunard (pronounded not "Coo-nard"), accent on the "nard", but "Q - nard" accent on the "Q"), could afford to give away the staterooms, and still make a terrific profit on proceeds from the very large Casino, and their commission on everything else that was sold on board, especially the terribly tacky I (heart) NY souvenirs from New York.

Aside: We found that most of the passengers were British, had boarded at Southampton, landed in New York - spent the day there, and then reboarded for the return to England. Two weeks on board the Queen Mary 2 was obviously better than just an ordinary old Holiday Camp on the Brighton Beach.

Weather report: The first day out, as I moaned and groaned in bed, the Captain announced: "There is no ship built today that can withstand these 17 foot waves."

Actually, if I lay perfectly still and didn't try to eat anything, it was a rather welcome enforced 24 hour bedrest. Bob, on the other hand zigazgged himself through the mile long corridors, to have his three meals. Dinner in Formal dress, no less.

By the next day all was calm - not sunny - but calm, and I took off my anti-seasick wristbands, and didn't need them again.

However, even though the ship was gratefully steady, the wind and almost constant rain kept us encapsulated the rest of the voyage. We tried once, and once only, to take a promenade around the deck - we had seen hardy souls slanting into the wind, and figured we should at least try. As soon as we managed to heave and push the door open, we took two steps, were almost blown overboard, dashed back in, never to venture out again.

So, what was there to do? Well, when we first boarded and received the activity bulletin, I noticed that there was a scheduled lecture, "The Excrement Factor: The Natural History of Dung". And I chortled accordingly. Little did I know that would be the highlight of our trip.

Besides this and other far less interesting "Talks", ("White House Gossip" by a former Marine Guard) there was a very large Casino which kept many passengers busy from dawn to dawn, the Canyon Ranch Spa, where one could get a "Classic Facial, (as opposed to non-Classic?), Body Scrubs, and other physical pamperings, which with a Membership Package, ($?) allowed one to purchase at an additional cost, such tempting Fitness Activities as "Totally Tubing - Stretch Band Exercises", "Wake-up workout with Trish", Indoor Cycling (definitely wouldn't want to do this on Deck A, B, C, or D), "Body Blast" - etc., you get the idea. And the cost.

There was a Bridge Club, Golf Simulator, Wine Tasting (add $65 per person to your bill), Scarf Tying Class ("Please bring your own scarf"), Watercolor Class ($35), Darts Competition, "Baggo - Bags of Fun!" (since we didn't participate I haven't the vaguest idea of what that entailed), Service Club Get-together "For military veterans and active service members. Unhosted", "Flair Bartending and Cocktail Demonstration ("Cover charge $20 plus 15% service charge will apply").

None of the above held any interest to us, but we did attend one of the daily "Art Auction Extravaganzas - Come join us for fun and surprises. Fabulous fine art giveaway today. Check your Daily Programme for time and location. Savings up to 50% below estimated retail prices", and were suitably impressed with the number of key/credit cards which were being offered to buy any number of - how to be kind? - dismal, faux gilt framed - the usual suspects: white faced tragic clowns, titled "Tender Love", blond children smelling flowers ("In the Park") , lounging nude ladies, ("Boudoir"), zebras at a watering hole, ("Dusk"), ship under a dark sky nearing a buoy, ("First Light"), and of course, an Italian street scene, ("Sienna Flower Market.")

You get the idea.

There was in all this, heaven only knows how, a decent Chagall, for thousands of dollars, but when we asked about the Provenance there was great confusion, and eventually something came up on the computer, which didn't seem to agree with what was pasted on the back. That was enough entertainment for that day and we let it go.

One dull afternoon we stood in line to visit the Bridge. We stood behind the plate glass barrier, and looked past all the computers to see that the large window looking out to sea from port to starboard, had plain old car window wipers. And when we finally found the helm, it was no bigger than one in a Formula One racing car, with a rather large swivel chair behind it. It was empty, but I guess with all the computers humming here and there it's probably on Cruise (sorry) Control most of the time.

That might have been the afternoon I had my hair done - $68 plus $10 tip. I won't report this to Maria at Fantastic Sam. I'd hate to lose her to Cunard.

Like I said, the lecture on Dung was truly the highlight of the voyage. Who knew that ancient loos were communal? Where folks would gather to chat and poop together? The slide showed a reproduction of an enclosure with long lines of "seats" in front of lanes of presumably running water, with individual scrub brushes at each place. I should have asked if they were disposable.

He mentioned, en passant, that Henry VIII's "House of Easement" had a Groom of the Stool.

I did know, from our time in Egypt, that the sacred scarab which we see in so much Egyptian jewelry, was actually a dung beetle. They were suitably idolized once it was realized that were it not for these dedicated insects gobbling up all the local dung the place would be a sorry mess. Not only that, but apparently the dung beetle then uses it for nests for their young, thereby implying, at least to the Egyptians, resurrection. Of a sort.

I tried to take notes, but somehow my scribbles are not quite clear on just how much excrement each and every one of God's creatures creates during any 24 hour period. At the end of the lecture he did tell us that this ship processes - yes, he assured us it was processed before being dumped in the ocean - a mighty load of excrement, and with that daily count, we were to guess the total amount of the voyage. Winner to receive a copy of his book, presumably autographed. We did not compete.

The other lecture about the White House by the former Marine Guard was also interesting if you cared to know that Mamie Eisenhower smoked in private, that Nancy Reagan spent a fortune on her gowns, and that Amy Carter was a brat, and interrupted everyone, you know, seamy inside gossip. If one bought one of his books on sale, he too would gladly personally autograph it for you.

As for Evening Entertainment, we deliberately chose the 6 o'clock dinner in order to catch Showtime at 8:45 in the Royal Court Theater. Even then we soon found that if one tarried, one could be seated behind a post, and might miss part of the show, which as it turned out would not have been a major tragedy.

"Zing Went The Strings" starring the Royal Cunard (Q-nard) Singers and Dancers. This is an original production show which is an affectionate reflection of the songs, films and performances of one of the most adored entertainers of our time. From her early auditions, famous films and award winning television specials this production is an acknowledgment of the contribution and influences Judy Garland made to many of today's greatest stars."

Another Red Flag.

The Cunard Singers and Dancers continued to dance and sing their hearts out every night in one or another "Production" and while I certainly did not expect to see the ghosts of Fred and Ginger, I also didn't think they would be turning over in their graves with such ferocity - along with Judy, of course.

We did find, in our nightly wanderings a small jazz trio playing in one lounge with a miniscule dance floor, and since the few people sitting around seemed more interested in their drinks than either the really terrific jazz or the dance floor, we enjoyed both, and if it weren't for the new "formal" shoes Bob had just bought and which were killing his feet, we might have danced every night away just like you know who.

In discussing all the shipboard activities and lavish evening entertainment I seem to have forgotten to mention the "Exquisite Dining Aboard the Queen Mary 2". We had been seriously warned beforehand to diet before we boarded because of the danger of overindulging on the outstanding meals we would be having.

Back to Fred and Ginger, well, you never actually saw what they ate on those ocean liners, but it sure had to have been a lot better than the "Exquisite Dining Aboard the Queen Mary 2."

The daily menus should have been a really big Red Flag, because the elaborate descriptions had very little to do with what was placed in front of you. The "Oak Leaf & Boston Salad, Sherry Vinaigrette" was a small portion of slightly wilted lettuce, no sign of any Oak leaf, all of which was soaked in a kind of soppy dressing. The Pan-Seared Cod, Wilted (at least here they admitted it) Bok Choy, Mustard Grain Sauce" was even less inspired. We might have done the "Cheese Selection," but the Danablu, Caprice Des Dieux, and Dutch Gouda "Selection" was more or less exactly the "Selection" we find at Costco, and we didn't think it was worth wasting our Cholesterol on that.

We were seated at a splendid table for four, next to a large window with the rolling waves just a deck and railing away. The table next to us was also for four, and during the entire voyage we were only joined twice by any of the other six passengers, and wondered if the required "Elegant Casual", "Informal", or "Formal" attire discouraged them and they preferred the Food Court offerings. Or had we forgotten to brush our teeth?

But no, one night a couple appeared, and they were splendidly dressed. But when the British gentleman was served his "Slow Roasted Prime Rib", Idaho Potato & Horseradish Gravy", he took one look at the large slab of gray meat, called the waiter back and said, "I can't eat this." Certainly an Englishman knows his Prime Rib, sometimes known as the Sunday Joint, and this was clearly unacceptable.

He eventually had the "Pumpkin Stuffed Chicken Breast, Pillaf (sic) Rice, Macadamia Curry Sauce", as did I, and we both searched high and low for any sign of pumpkin, ignored the salty Pillaf Rice, and since there was also no sign of any macadamia in the Curry Sauce we pushed that aside as well. They never returned.

One of the other couples did clear up the mystery. We knew there was alternate dining. The Food Court, as mentioned, where we went for breakfast and lunch, and while there was the usual salad (still rather wilted) bar, and a choice of Asian, Grill, etc. the hustle and bustle, not only of the large number of passengers, but with the current hysteria caused by fear of yet another virus and/or bacterial epidemic, the staff is on constant duty, mopping and spraying, in their attempt to sanitize everything, including the passengers. We had to guard our breakfast plates if we got up to get a refill of anything and at the same time dodge the vacuums, steamers, and mops. It was not the most appealing or relaxing dining venue.

But - hark - there was yet another alternative. For a "Supplementary charge of U.S. $20 for lunch, and U.S. $30 for dinner one could dine in the Todd English Dining Room with innovative Mediterranean cuisine from world famous celebrity Chef Todd English. Reservations necessary."

And that's where our table companions, with the exception of one "trial" night each, were having their "Queen Mary 2 Dining Experience."

Had our Britannia Restaurant been anything more than just Banquet Style fare - call it Buttermilk Battered Chicken Breast with Pomme de Terre Royale, it's just a piece of chicken and some mashed potatoes - we would have thought that if this is so wonderful, as everyone told us it would/should be, we would have been tempted to at least try Chef Todd's creations assuming it would be truly glorious.

But how dare they serve such mass produced fare as part of their "Grand Cuisine Experience", and then charge extra to get the decent stuff?

One had to remember the joke about the two Jewish ladies at a resort - one complaining bitterly about how terrible the food was, and the other replying: "Yes, and such small portions!

The Good News is that we laughed a lot - the menu descriptions got funnier and funnier (what's a "Forked Potato"?, Eggplant & Ratouille (redundant) Cannelloni, Saute Garlic Spinach?), and certainly didn't have to worry about gaining any weight, whatsoever.

Our after dinner photo ($27.50) shows Bob and me, in our Formal attire, posed in front of the giant reproduction of Queen Mary 2, and somehow I am clutching my sides, which says something either about the food or my sense of humor.

Through most of the voyage I felt like a five-year old on a very long car trip, and kept asking, plaintively, "Aren't we there yet?"

And eventually, we were. But not without a final coup d'etat. Each night we were told to set our clocks back one hour, which, of course, did not please me whatsoever. It's bad enough to do that once a year, but every night? We did, I complained, and continued to do it the night before we landed. We were to have breakfast at 6 AM (!), and be prepared to leave the ship at 8.

Not wanting to rush in my drugged condition I set the alarm for 5, which meant I would have less than six hours sleep - not enough by a long shot. And we staggered down to the Food Court for breakfast at 6. What ho? Nothing set up? No hot (mediocre) oatmeal? No anything? Not even any staff racing around getting the coffee urns steamed up?

There were no other passengers either. So I had time to go back to our cabin to retrieve a forgotten teabag. By the time I returned Bob reported that he had indeed found a sleepy staff member who told him it was not 6 AM, it was only 5 AM.

Since England was only five hours ahead of New York (Europe is six hours), we weren't supposed to set our clocks back last night. WHY DIDN'T SOMEONE TELL US???. I could have slept another hour!

When we finally did get off the ship (Halleluja), and into the bus to take us to Gatwick, we had to wait over an hour because the ship had lost the luggage of two of our passengers. When we finally got to Gatwick, their driver let us off at the wrong terminal. The escalators weren't working, we had extra baggage ("Formal" wear for The Queen Mary 2 Dining Experience), and because of the delay we had to run to get to our plane to Toulouse.

That night's dinner at our dear old "Le Commerce" was terrific.

As adventures go, we'll scratch the Q-nard.

Cimadb



Cimadb