Alex's Summer at Sea

I figure I’ve told hundreds of people about my Semester at Sea voyage, and every single person was excited about it – except one. Standing in line at security at SFO, I met Ron Finklestein – perhaps the only pessimist in Canada. He told me travel is a hassle, and “you just never know what’ll happen.” I shrugged him off, too excited about traveling to care. But, just as soothsayer Finklestein hinted, I – as well as my luggage – almost didn’t make it to the ship.

I flew into Montreal for a quick stopover before departing for Halifax, Nova Scotia, where I would embark on the ship. In Montreal I had exactly 45 minutes between the time my flight landed and the time my next flight would board. In that sliver of time, I needed to clear customs, pick up my luggage, drop off my luggage (again) check in (again), and go through security (again). I went to pick up my luggage but only one of my two checked bags came through. Time was ticking to get to my next flight, as I stood staring at the mouth of the conveyor belt, ready to pounce on my bag the second it got off. Finally, it was five minutes until boarding and I only had one bag. Frantically, I decided it was more important to make my flight than to get my bag, since if I missed this flight, I wouldn’t be able to board the ship in time.

I started a light jog, with one of my two bags, headed for the “Sortie” (exit, in French, as it was labeled in Francophone Quebec), only to find it diagonally across the entire baggage claim from me. I got to the sortie, ran up the steps (no time for an elevator), only to end up in the front of the terminal again. It’s now my time to board, and I am looking at a huge line to check my remaining bag. I run up to the man in the front of the line and explain my situation and ask if I could possibly go ahead of him. He gives me the “I speak French, not English, and have no idea what you’re saying” look, but the man behind him lets me go next. I check my bag, hoping it doesn’t meet the same fate as its cousin, and head for security. After passing security, I’m already ten minutes late for boarding. Not having time to put my laptop back in my backpack, I assume it in my right arm like a football, and begin a brisk walk. After I realize that I’m in a tunnel where, inexplicably, my gate is the last one, I start a full out sprint, protecting the laptop with one arm while using my left to hold my bouncing backpack in place. I come sprinting down a narrow hallway where Canadians come to a halt to let me pass – I do a courtesy slowdown (as if it makes it any safer), and then start my sprint up again. Finally I reach my gate, perspiration dripping from my brow, my face as red as a Canadian Maple Leaf, and board the flight just in time (for the flight attendant to announce the flight is delayed 15 minutes).

I get off the plane in Halifax tired, hungry, and expecting at least one, but hopefully two bags to meet me at the claim. To my dismay (but not complete surprise), neither of my bags comes off the flight to meet me. I happen to meet two girls on Semester at Sea, both of whom had their luggage lost by Air Canada as well. I go to the baggage claim to make a report, and the man in the maple-leaf-sweater-vest asks me if I am on Semester at Sea. I nod, confused as to how he knew; he informs me about 30 SAS students lost baggage that day. I tell him where my ship is docked, and that I need my luggage by 4 PM, or else I will be traveling to Iceland with only one shirt. He tells me not to get my hopes up.

I enter the ship the next morning at 8 AM, and speed through the check-in, since I didn’t have any bags to check. I board the ship, and am struck by how empty my cabin feels with barely more than a laptop, some toiletries and a pair of pants to sustain me for the voyage. I spend the day shuffling between calls to Air Canada, obsessive refreshing of the Air Canada baggage tracer website, and a run to the Halifax Mall where I bought seven non-descript color t-shirts at GAP. As I was gathering a nice collection of $9 shirts in various shades of blue and grey, the “sales associate” commented I was must be loading up on clothing because of the sale; I told him my tale of woe, and he informed me another SASer had just been in doing the same thing I was doing.

I head back to the ship by the 3PM boarding deadline, resigned to the fact I will be wearing only different hues of GAP shirts until Iceland. At 3:45, only a few minutes before the ship is to take off for the seas, a voice comes over the loudspeaker: “will the following students please come to the union to claim luggage.” I wait, with the anticipation of a team on selection Sunday hoping to hear their name announced for the NCAA tournament. The first named announced is mine, and by the time he finishes “Bu,” I am out the door. To my delight, not one, but both of my pieces of luggage were waiting for me, changing my predicament from “what color GAP shirt will I wear today,” to “where am I going to put the 7 extra GAP shirts in my cabin?”

I throw my bags in my room, and head out to the seventh deck to watch the ship pull away from shore, as a bagpiper plays, and waving families on shore slowly fade into the Halifax skyline.
Sure, travel can be a hassle, but I made it, Ron Finklestein, and so did my bags.

Here are some photos from our ship departing Halifax: