The return journey begins, welcome to the Queen Elizabeth

 A nightmare getting onboard. An absolute freaking nightmare. At one point Richard said he wanted to forget the whole thing and take a flight home. He was semi-serious; I am thankful the Security people were kind and solicitous rather than arresting him.

But I will start at the beginning. We had had a lovely time in Southampton leading up to embarkation day. The hotel was comfortable and quiet, close to a large modern shopping mall with restaurants and stores. We had no problems getting from London to Southampton on the National Express bus; it’s just a long ride. Of course I was nervous about the embarkation COVID test but finally just before I went to bed on Sunday night I had a kind of epiphany of peace. It was strange but all of a sudden I wasn’t worried anymore, ar least not to the extent I had been.

So on Sunday we arrived at the Ship Terminal at our appointed time of 12:30; so did almost the entire complement of passengers.  No we didn’t all have the same appointed time, it was just that no one was actually checking times. Everyone was anxious to get on board and so had “come early.” 

One hour lined up to test. Standing on concrete (they did give priority to people in wheelchairs.) We were crammed into long cattle-like lines, the special events barriers forcing us to snake along, no social distancing possible. I overheard one man remark that if we didn’t have COVID before lining up, we’d have it by the time we were through. Finally we got up to one of the 12 testing stations and the procedure took just a few minutes. Then we were herded up the stairs to sit in a large waiting room while a couple of young women walked around with iPads letting those who didn’t have British cell numbers (THEY got a text message confirming they were negative) know whether their results were ready and whether they were negative. I waited 25 minutes, watched several people who had tested at the same time as we had get their results and be on their way while the blonde young woman who kept coming by told me “no results for you yet.” I was starting to believe we would be sat there until everyone else had left and then they’d tell us we were positive or something. Heart was pounding, spirits sinking. I am sure if Richard used a cellphone he would have been looking for ways to get to Heathrow. Although we did hear a few announcements asking some people to come to the Information Desk. Uh oh. At least they hadn’t called our names yet. Finally after the blonde had wandered away to the other side of the hall, I asked the other young woman with an iPad and she looked up our names and said “oh your results are in, you’re negative.” 

At that point I felt so happy, surely the worst was over. Richard was still muttering and grumbling about their inefficiency and wouldn’t it just be better to go home by plane if the cruise was going to be like this. I understood that it was terribly disorganized—three separate staff had to check our negative COVID slips of paper then they directed us to the wrong line at first—but grumbling about it, especially to the point of saying he didn’t want to go wasn’t helping ME cope at all. And I am the Marshall in our little parade.

Anyway, we finally were allowed into the right check in line. I thought “this should be easy, I did online check in last night.” Nope. We got someone who was in training and first she didn’t know how to process US and Canada passports. Then she said the photos we had done last night in our room weren’t clear enough. Then she had to check something else…. Finally she stamped our boarding passes and said we could queue up for Security. Think airports for that queue and process. Seriously. I was amazed they didn’t confiscate my water bottle. They made Richard take his belt and shoes off, empty his pockets (note on that at the end.)

And this is where it gets very weird. The woman at Check in had given me the boarding passes. They were regular sized sheets of paper. I thought I stuffed them into my purse with my passports but when we reached the head of line for Security, were they in my purse? No. (Actually they were. When I finally got to our cabin an hour later, there they were plain as day. How did I not see them? Panic probably.) I searched and then went to the guy directing the Security line—who had just checked them but of course I still needed them and he didn’t remember seeing them—and told him I couldn’t find them in my bag. Richard at this point went and sat down, huffing and puffing but not being in the least helpful. I am the one responsible for all documents and procedures, I am the Marshall; this is my show. 

The guy told me to go back to Check in. Richard sat in the Security area waiting for me to sort things out. The person we had checked in with had gone on break (of course) and the other woman couldn’t verify we had checked in. It didn’t look like it on their little communications screens. It took 10 minutes for me to convince them that yes I had checked in (the woman finally got back from her break) and get another boarding pass. I looked at and asked if this was good for both of us, I only saw my name. “Yes” the check in staff said. “No” said the Security staff moments later. Richard would have to go and do what I just did. And that’s when Richard just about lost it. He told me in front of the Security people that I could do what I wanted but he was flying home. I started to cry, blubbering through my face mask. It wasn’t pretty but thank goodness for the warm and kind Security person who practically took R by the hand and shepherded him back through check in and obtained his precious boarding pass.

And yes that whole part was due to my letting myself panic and scrabbling through my purse looking for the passes instead of thoughtfully and carefully looking for them. They were exactly where they would be based on what I had done after I left the check in desk.

It took us a good hour after we got on board before we started speaking to each other. Richard apologized for overreacting, I said it had all finally just got too much for me. All is well this morning. The Queen Elizabeth is beautiful, we have a great balcony room and meal plan; at the small intimate restaurant that we were allocated, the food was magnificent, the staff is warm and caring. 

Oh and my earlier hint about Richard’s pockets? In his dudgeon he had thrown down everything that was in his pocket including his Visa card. And then hadn’t picked it up again. When we were in the cabin the phone rang; it was the purser. “Oh no,” thought I, “they were wrong about the negative COVID test. No said they. Someone had picked up R’s Visa card and they had put in their safe in the Purser’s Office. Would Richard like to stop by and get it sometime? 

So onward to today!