Want to know what really happens behind the door marked ‘Private – crew members only’ What do the crew get up to when they are off duty? What do they get up to when they are ON duty? What do they get up to with the passengers? How do they ‘earn’ their tips? For the first time it is all in print. The memoirs the cruise companies didn’t want you to see!!!

It is the personal memoir of my time working as a waiter on the S/S Oceanic which sailed from Cape Canaveral to The Bahamas. The waiters were the ‘Kings’ of the cruise ship. They worked hard, partied hardest, ate the best food, gambled the most, had the most sex and unlike rock stars we never took a day off to recover. Rehab for us was the next party! The best thing was the passengers never suspected a thing and they loved us!!!!!

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PROLOGUE

JOURNEY’S END—LHR TO LBA

“Ladies and gentlemen, I regret to inform you that due to the fact that Leeds and Bradford Airport is fog-bound, and an attempt at landing there would not comply with safety regulations, we will have to divert to our alternate airport, which is Teeside.

Provision will be taken for your onward travel to Leeds and Bradford airport. We are sorry for this inconvenience”, said a young, but mature female voice. There were several grumbles around me but they were quickly silenced when my tired mind made sense of the statement.

“Aw, Fuckin’ ‘ell!” I blurted out, with the unceremonious frustration of someone who had hardly slept for the last four days. As the last syllable left my mouth, there was the rustle of half-read newspapers and an almost perfectly choreographed movement of a hundred or so collar and tie-adorned necks. Like a collection of automatic car aerials that had just had their orders to extend by the switching on of the radios that connected to them they rose up, and swivelled around in unison and stared directly at me. Attached to the necks were heads with blank faces seemingly devoid of any emotion. All I could focus on were the odd ‘Bobby Charlton’ comb-over and one or two shiny, bald, domes reflecting their over-head reading lights, dispersed among the cheap, white-collar, side-parted haircuts.

To be continued next week…

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Chapter 1 – DRY LAND TRAINING

Christmas was pretty shitty in 1988. This had been due to the fact that I should have been working in Crans Montana, Switzerland. I was really looking forward to spending five months in a top Swiss hotel and most important of all, having the opportunity to go skiing, every day! Unfortunately, the work permits got screwed up and, two weeks before I was supposed to depart, the whole thing was cancelled.

I gave up my job in Virgina Water and, with the proverbial ‘nob between the old legs’, I came home to Leeds to cry on mother’s shoulder. Just before Christmas I’d applied to an advert for cruis line personnel in the main catering rag, the Caterer an Hotelkeeper and forgotten all about it.

This was mainly due to the fact that the alcohol content in my blood was over the normal limit for consciousness. February came around and I was still plodding along like a donkey on Blackpool beach. That’s just back and forth whilst trying to avoid the turds that had been washed up at high tide. February 6th 1989. A day that history was made! My first post from anybody in France, It was from the cruise line agency whom I had written to just THREE SODDING MONTHS before! Very efficient, I thought not.

Lazy froggy bastards was closer to my line of thinking. Anyway as I’m a very forgiving sort of person and, I wanted a job so, I decided to give them a second chance. A one Bernard Jouen was the geezer I had to contact. As I can remember, 1989 was pre touch-tone telephones in our house, so it took me most of the morning to get through. Eventually was connected. The girl who answered at the other end just kept saying “allo, Monsieur Jouens office, can I ‘elp you” for about ten minutes, before I could make her understand that’s exactly what I wanted

Get your copy of Cruiseline Confidential by Mr. James Spencer click here.

Cruiseline Confidential – by James Spancer

CHICKEN AND RICE OR CHICKEN AND RICE?

YO! MIAMI! We were there and, all in one piece with one exception, which the grey matter sloshing around the inside of my skull. Due to altitude and alcohol my brain had divided in to individual atoms and I was totally mashed. Not to worry though because I could sleep it off in the afternoon and be at full power for the evening ’sesh’.

We picked up our luggage and after a few minutes in customs telling them why we there it was off to get a cab. Or so we thought, but we were attacked by these guys, dragging massive trolleys behind them, all wearing what looked like police hats. These men, were all at least seven feet tall and looked very mean indeed. But they are called Skycaps and, it is national law that they have to carry your bags even if you don’t have any! Hey! I wasn’t arguing, happily coughing up three Dollars for the privilege.

Now, from the plane we had gone straight into the terminal without having to venture outside. Paris was a cool 14C, and the terminal was about the same but outside somebody had forgot to switch the air conditioning on. When the automatic doors of the terminal opened, whoosh! 30 degrees celsius and 90% humidity literally smashed us right in the face. I lost half a stone just walking to the taxi, which was only about three feet away. The taxi had air conditioning so normality was returned just about immediately.

Get your copy of Cruiseline Confidential by Mr. James Spencer click here.