When I finally landed in Cleveland, Ohio after nearly ten hours of red-eye airport waiting, flying, layovers and more, I was thoroughly exhausted. I felt like I would have trouble telling up from left, and the duffel bag on my back certainly made me lean something like that. I quickly exited the airport to find a taxi, having discovered my final destination as the Browns Stadium.
My cabbie and I passed back the usual chit chat, about how it had been hot: "Oh your from Phoenix? You must be cold here than." "No, we don't get any humidity." "Oh yes, it is a, ah, dry heat there?" "Yep." All in all he was a very nice man, and when he offered his card that didn't have his name on it, I took it. (If your reading this cabbie, that card ended up being part of a tip for an ihop waitress that included a free Circle K hotdog, an oil change, some soggy receipts and several gold dollar coins. So if you meet a cute ihop waitress from Tempe, AZ, you know who to thank.)
As he drove me through Cleveland, I took note of several things very quickly.
It had completely blanked my mind until this point however, that several tallships sailing to a city from across the world to put on a festival, a "tallship festival" would be exciting for anyone but me. I'm selfish like that. But here they are, wall to wall people, tens of thousands of them wandering up and down the docks, taking pictures and slurping diet cokes. Point is I roll up in my taxi to a ticket booth and immediately think "Oh right. How in the hell did I not see this coming? I must be as blind as Ray Charles, and 1/500th as musically talented."
Lucky for me, this port had a huge "VOLUNTEER ENTRANCE" sign (that no other ports had, man did I luck out). No biggie, I can just tell them I work on the ship, no problem. All thats left is convincing the security I belong inside these gates for free, and I can dance my way onto the ship and sleep my jet lag off in a hammock. Let's look at this from the security guard's point of view.
A haggard looking kid wearing cutoffs, some trashy shirt, and torn up shoes approaches your security booth. On his back is a surplus military duffel bag absolutely PACKED with who knows what. Let's go with explosives, he could have enough explosives to blow up the block. Assessment? Sketchy. Let's interrogate him, see if he has any credentials or knows his stuff.
Security: "Do you have any papers proving you work on the ship?"
Me: "No."
Security: "Do you have a crew shirt?"
Me: "No."
Security: "Do you know the name of the Captain?"
Me: "No."
Security: "Do you know the ship's phone number?"
Me: "No."
Security: "Do you know the name of ANYONE on the ship?"
Me: "No."
Security: "Do you know anything about the ship?"
Me: "Um, I am guessing it's that one way over there?"
Overall, this candidate is horribly qualified for crew, and very well qualified to be a person with bad intentions. Final verdict from security?
Security: "Mmm, you don't look like a terrorist. Let's go find the ship."
Yeah me! Score! I wander around until I find the Niagara, and then cut the two hour line with a suave, "Uh, I think I uh, work here? Can I go onboard?" and quickly find some friendly crew mates who help me drop my stuff off in some back room and don a crew shirt. Finally, I can at least fake it. I get on the schedule, and lo and behold, it's my day off. Sweet, I think? Not really.
It boils down to "You can't go home, and you can't stay here. With the ship packed full of tourists and me not having the slightest idea what to do, I embark. I wander aimlessly, unsure of what to do, and where to go. If I recall, I ended up just passing out in some grass looking like a bum for like five or six hours. I then got up, ate, tried to fake doing something to kill a few hours until tours were over. (Passing out on park benches, looking like I am REALLY interested in every single item in every store, smelling bad, you know, the usual.)
Everyone on the ship says the first day or two are overwhelming, and I agree entirely. I couldn't have told you the time of day or which way was up. Everyone on the ship also says that you will not sleep the first night, and on this they were dead wrong. I was dead to the earth, and awoke a fresh new person who still had not the slightest idea what the heck was going on. But that was OK, because hey, here I was in a new city, trying something new. I hoped I'd eventually get the hang of it.
© Kyle Packer
My cabbie and I passed back the usual chit chat, about how it had been hot: "Oh your from Phoenix? You must be cold here than." "No, we don't get any humidity." "Oh yes, it is a, ah, dry heat there?" "Yep." All in all he was a very nice man, and when he offered his card that didn't have his name on it, I took it. (If your reading this cabbie, that card ended up being part of a tip for an ihop waitress that included a free Circle K hotdog, an oil change, some soggy receipts and several gold dollar coins. So if you meet a cute ihop waitress from Tempe, AZ, you know who to thank.)
As he drove me through Cleveland, I took note of several things very quickly.
- Steep roofs. We don't have them in Arizona, because guess what, there is no snow to pile up on them.
- Tall buildings. Older than anything in Arizona. I mean like, marble and granite and statues of founding fathers old.
- Green. It's a vibrant color I had only heard guarded rumors of existing outside of Arizona.
It had completely blanked my mind until this point however, that several tallships sailing to a city from across the world to put on a festival, a "tallship festival" would be exciting for anyone but me. I'm selfish like that. But here they are, wall to wall people, tens of thousands of them wandering up and down the docks, taking pictures and slurping diet cokes. Point is I roll up in my taxi to a ticket booth and immediately think "Oh right. How in the hell did I not see this coming? I must be as blind as Ray Charles, and 1/500th as musically talented."
Lucky for me, this port had a huge "VOLUNTEER ENTRANCE" sign (that no other ports had, man did I luck out). No biggie, I can just tell them I work on the ship, no problem. All thats left is convincing the security I belong inside these gates for free, and I can dance my way onto the ship and sleep my jet lag off in a hammock. Let's look at this from the security guard's point of view.
A haggard looking kid wearing cutoffs, some trashy shirt, and torn up shoes approaches your security booth. On his back is a surplus military duffel bag absolutely PACKED with who knows what. Let's go with explosives, he could have enough explosives to blow up the block. Assessment? Sketchy. Let's interrogate him, see if he has any credentials or knows his stuff.
Security: "Do you have any papers proving you work on the ship?"
Me: "No."
Security: "Do you have a crew shirt?"
Me: "No."
Security: "Do you know the name of the Captain?"
Me: "No."
Security: "Do you know the ship's phone number?"
Me: "No."
Security: "Do you know the name of ANYONE on the ship?"
Me: "No."
Security: "Do you know anything about the ship?"
Me: "Um, I am guessing it's that one way over there?"
Overall, this candidate is horribly qualified for crew, and very well qualified to be a person with bad intentions. Final verdict from security?
Security: "Mmm, you don't look like a terrorist. Let's go find the ship."
Yeah me! Score! I wander around until I find the Niagara, and then cut the two hour line with a suave, "Uh, I think I uh, work here? Can I go onboard?" and quickly find some friendly crew mates who help me drop my stuff off in some back room and don a crew shirt. Finally, I can at least fake it. I get on the schedule, and lo and behold, it's my day off. Sweet, I think? Not really.
It boils down to "You can't go home, and you can't stay here. With the ship packed full of tourists and me not having the slightest idea what to do, I embark. I wander aimlessly, unsure of what to do, and where to go. If I recall, I ended up just passing out in some grass looking like a bum for like five or six hours. I then got up, ate, tried to fake doing something to kill a few hours until tours were over. (Passing out on park benches, looking like I am REALLY interested in every single item in every store, smelling bad, you know, the usual.)
Everyone on the ship says the first day or two are overwhelming, and I agree entirely. I couldn't have told you the time of day or which way was up. Everyone on the ship also says that you will not sleep the first night, and on this they were dead wrong. I was dead to the earth, and awoke a fresh new person who still had not the slightest idea what the heck was going on. But that was OK, because hey, here I was in a new city, trying something new. I hoped I'd eventually get the hang of it.
© Kyle Packer
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