Ho ho ho, all aboard the S.S. Disastro!
Being the selfless, caring person that I am, I generously give up my seat to an elderly man. My behavior is encouraged by the fact that it’s Christmas Eve and I’m waiting for a ferry that will take me to my home island of Martinique after a holiday in Dominica. After two hours and six minutes of standing, my Mother Teresa-like demeanor is lost. My feet ache, the nonstop Caribbean sun is painful on my already sunburned skin and sweat begins to drip off my chin, bringing my sunscreen with it. Any feelings of merriment and goodwill are gone. I shoot an envious glare at the rather smug man relishing the shade of my seat.
I should mention that this two hour, six minute wait for our ferry occurs after we’ve been hustled through a frenzied ticketing, customs and security check, which entail long, disorderly lines and a man who seems to get a nasty enjoyment from completely unpacking your bag…The entire process takes an hour and a half itself and occurs in a ferry terminal the size of most people’s living room. After making it through the three, separate lines we find ourselves in a partially outdoor, non-air conditioned room that brings out the worst in everyone, especially the locals who notoriously forego deodorant.
In short, the waiting area is a crowded, smelly mess. The lucky ones, like me, are able to claim a seat. The stupid ones, like me, also thoughtlessly give them up, assuming that the boat will be on time.
As we wait we enjoy the afternoon’s entertainment: boatloads of happy (albeit sunburned) Germans being transported to the ferry dock from the vast, luxurious cruise ship they arrived on. The sea is rough and each boat struggles to tie up and safely unload another group of activity hungry Germans. We all allow ourselves a laugh as they’re forced to awkwardly hop from the rocking boat onto land. Of course, it may sound a bit mean, but I have a hard time feeling bad for someone who gets to spend Christmas Eve hiking to one of the island’s 365 waterfalls, biking or visiting the natural sulfur springs – with a native tour guide in tow. We on the other hand, are waiting in the heat for a boat that doesn’t seem to be coming.
As our overdue ferry appears we let out a cheer, a late boat is much better than no boat at all. The choppy water is making it difficult to secure the ferry to the port, but after several tries, the boat is tied up and the boarding ramp is carried over. With the ramp attached and the ferry secured, we watch the first few passengers descend off the boat. All progress is halted as a big wave pushes the boat higher bringing the connected ramp with it. One passenger is caught on the ramp and flung onto the concrete as the boat rears back. He’s rushed away from the rocking boat and an ambulance arrives shortly after.
Shock lingers in the air and now it’s the Germans’ turn to stare as each remaining passenger is forced to run down the constantly moving ramp. Somehow even the high heel clad women manage.
Needless to say, the ferry company doesn’t want to risk re-boarding the boat, so we all turn around and wait in yet another line for an “official stamped ticket” that granted us the “chance” to board the Christmas day ferry. The thought of living through the day’s events again was terrifying. Our Christmas Eve had included five hours of standing in lines and waiting (without a seat). Upon receiving our “official stamped ticket” we were told to find a nearby hotel (on our dollar, of course) and come back tomorrow to do it all again. This time, I tell you, I won’t give up my seat to anyone. —Eve Donegan
