They wear no masks. They bear no capes. They humbly perform
their services throughout the day. They command no great certificate of
achievement for a simple greeting is all the gratification they need. Much like
the heroes of great comic books, the shipboard crew falls into the shadows of
the walls only to come out when crushed ice is absent or soap needs
replenishing. The great heroes aboard the MV Explorer aren’t the courageous
students that braved the stormy waters, they aren’t the courageous faculty sent
to wrangle the rowdy students, nor are they the courageous children sent to
battle boredom at sea. No, the heroes aboard the MV Explorer are the crew that
clean the cabins, serve the food, bus the tables, wash the laundry, shine the
stairwells, and so much more no one ever knows about.
A tiny placard sits dangling off the shelf, it reads a name.
It is the name of the cabin steward. The cabin steward is this guy that comes
out at seven in the morning because it’s his job to be out there that early
even though no one is awake at such an ungodly hour. He sits on his cart as the
single student tiptoes out her door. His face, displaying an expression of
boredom, lights up to greet her at said ungodly hour. All morning, he waits for
students to clear their rooms. Given the demographic of this ship, that might
not happen for hours, in which case he continues to sit on the edge of his cart
with his chin resting on his hand, elbow on his knee, waiting, wishing for them
to wake up so he can get to tucking those sheets more than snugly into hospital
corners.
Upstairs, the crew has been at their business for several
hours now. Before the break of dawn, the chefs have woken up to cook for the
crew who has to eat before the shipboard community does. After the crew eats,
they have to begin preparing the scene for however few early birds arrive. The
clinging and clanging of plates and metal shout the news out to the students
that breakfast is approaching. Follow the noise and smell of freshly baked
pastries to find canned fruit and potatoes. Breakfast – quite arguably the best
meal of the day. Consumers must arrive early to snag the good cereal. Orange
juice, a staple of the breakfast of champions gets doled out before the bum
hits the seat. The waiters wind their way around the tables and people to
pridefully place that glass within the reach of sleepy, uncoordinated hands.
Before the blink of an eye, that plate has disappeared and she still wanted
that fork.
They’re always cleaning. Always shining. Always waxing. The
smooth circular motions of their hands seem to dance in concert with each
other. Just seconds later another student has stamped their fingerprints onto
that shiny surface. They smile and continue their work. They continue shining
the stairs that inevitably never stay pristine for long. Every so often, there
is that student that opts to slide down the banister rather than grip the
banister. Somewhere on the ship, the butt-shine method is making the crewmember
whose banister that was smile. For once, his hard work will not be smudged, for
a few seconds at least.
For nine months out of the year, they live on the ship. They
live most of their lives away from their families. They live through weekly
phone calls for updates on how much of their salary the hormonal teenage boy
has spent or what new career the non-committal teenage daughter has chosen.
They keep pictures in their wallets to tide them over until they can get to
Internet in port. Somehow, they always manage to find a connection. They give
up their time to serve the voyagers aboard so that their children can have a
future with their family for more than three months out of the year. Despite
all of this, they seem to love their job.
Everyday they greet the voyagers with friendly smiles and a
jovial “Hello.” A lot of times, they make the effort to know names. Upon
entrance, she gets bombarded with greetings and requests to hold her tray or
bring her juice. It was a busy day as she fought with a waiter over whether she
could get her own dessert. “You guys are paying to go on this trip. We are
getting paid to work.” Heroes come in many shapes and sizes, but it’s not
everyday you get to know the person behind the disguise. You should get to know
a hero today.
gratingly cheesed,
jt
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