Travails of cruise travel

Although the subject matter of this article has no direct nexus to the topic of immigration law (except perhaps the check-in/disembarkation aspect of a cruise wherein a passport/visa may be required), this corner cannot pass up the opportunity to wade into the watery issue (no pun intended) of cruise travel.

Not after watching a jaw-dropping, gut-churning Netflix documentary about a cruise gone bad. The title of the show alone should give one poos: Poop Cruise.

Yeah, as in sh*t cruise.

Imagine going on a cruise for the very first time, wild-eyed in anticipation of the non-stop food-tripping, boozing, partying, and wave-rhythmed snoozing on board a Titanic-like vessel in the middle of the ocean, only for the journey to end in a perfect geo-storm of fiery accident, weary travelers and explosive catastrophe.

That’s what happened in February 2013 when a Carnival cruise ship carrying more than 4,000 passengers and crew suffered engine fire damage on its return journey after a four-day sojourn from Texas to Mexico.

Although the fire was swiftly contained, critical fuel lines had been destroyed, shutting down most of the vessel’s electrical power and rendering the ship functionally dead in the middle of nowhere, with little to no working toilets and air-conditioning.

As a result, passengers were told to hold their micturition urge for as long as they could, or else to pass water down the shower drains because the ship’s toilets wouldn’t flush.

Those intrepid enough, among the male passengers at least, were permitted to take a leak through the railings of the vessel, but not on the poop deck — as the rear upper part of a ship is called — for safety reasons (again no pun intended).

To address the passengers’ excremental needs, red biohazard bags were handed out to each passenger, with a reminder to tie the bags securely after each biohazardous release and to discard the packages properly.

Of course, being human, most disobeyed the instructions and instead jettisoned their personal biohazards into the toilet bowls or on the toilet floors, incrementally piling them up, per eyewitness reports, like ascending golden pyramids, with each layer of depoosit covered by toilet paper or paper towels.

Even those who’d made use of the biohazard bags disregarded the crew’s instructions and brazenly dumped their ordure packages in the hallways.

Because air-conditioning was non-existent, passengers were forced to put up makeshift beds in the open areas.

To alleviate the passengers’ misery, the ship’s crew gave away free booze and food. The excitement over the freebies didn’t last long, however, as the incendiary combination of firewater and bad temper began to explode soon after the give-away party had ended. Crapulous passengers fought over the limited sleeping spaces and food supplies.

After a few days of drifting aimlessly at sea, the cruise company was able to charter a tugboat to tow the ship to the nearest American port. But not before committing another poo-pas against the hapless passengers.

As the vessel was being towed, it constantly tilted to the side, causing the contents of the “loaded” toilets and waste basins to spill over, flooding the ship’s floors with tons of biohazardous materials.

It was a crappie ending, literally speaking, amid a sea of unhappily feces.