Dear Carnival Cruise Lines,
I have recently returned from my first cruise ship experience,
which was on your gigantic new boat, the Celebration. I have some thoughts…
Since this was my first cruise, I had no previous experience
with how people normally get on the ship to begin their cruise, and I still don’t,
because we did not get on the ship normally. We didn’t even get on the ship
safely.
As you are aware, an overnight boating accident with
fatalities closed the entrance to the Port of Miami for a majority of the day
that we were supposed to be getting on the boat. While the Celebration waited
offshore, we waited on Miami Beach and at our hotel.
There was obviously nothing you could do about the 32-foot Scorpion
high performance speed boat slamming into the 146-foot ferry at 3:30 in the
morning. I mean, we get it. It’s Miami, and the cocaine doesn’t just move
itself around. We understand that you have to have guys hauling ass in blacked-out
boats at night all jacked up on Mezcal and Columbian blow. It’s just how it
works, and sometimes they don’t see the enormous, well-lit, massive, literally
bigger than a house, ferry boat. Whatcha gonna do?
You had no control over Captain Coke’s ability to navigate,
or the Coast Guard’s ability to recover his boat and its precious cargo, but
what you did have control over was your own ship and the instructions you gave
to us, the people waiting to get on.
Now as you know, a long time ago we were all required to log
on and choose our embarkation time slot. You use time slots to make sure the
embarkation processes is smooth and controlled, and you use words like “embarkation”
because boat language is weird. Right before they closed down the port entrance
for a whole day, the cocaine mules probably yelled, “Oh, no, we are about to
strike the starboard aft hull of that enormous, well-lit, house-sized transport
vessel, with the forward quarter of our pleasure craft. The purser will keelhaul
us for losing the cargo we stowed in the forward bulkheads!”
Anyway, you wisely gave us timeslots in which to board. Those
timeslots obviously came and went with no ship to board, but once you were able
to get into port late in the day, you needed to let us know how to proceed.
I’ll pause here. Since this is an open letter, I’ll let the
readers that aren’t affiliated with Carnival give answers as to how this could
be handled, knowing that all passengers have already been divided up into
boarding groups.
But wait, I don’t want you, the reader, to come up with the
answer. I want you to go outside and find a four-year-old and ask them for the
answer.
We’ll wait.
OK, you’re back. What did the four-year-old come up with?
Yes, that’s correct. A simple chart emailed to us that said, “If your original
boarding time was X, your new boarding time is now Y.”
Now Carnival, I really want you to let that sink in (boat
humor). Every four-year-old polled came up with the same simple, logical
answer. The simple, logical solution that escaped you.
What did you do?
You said, “The ship is here. Be at the port between 8:00 pm and
11:00 pm to embark. Everyone must be on the ship by 11:00 pm.”
Keep in mind, the original boarding time slots were spread
out over six hours. Also keep in mind the Celebration holds 6500 passengers. You
read that correctly, in case you forgot. Six thousand, five hundred people.
Folks, don’t bother trying to find your four-year-old to get
their opinion on this boarding plan. They will just tell you it’s the dumbest,
most irresponsible, and possibly criminally actionable in a court of law plan
that anyone could have come up with.
Carnival Cruise Lines, by definition, you know “cruise people.”
(Readers, if you have been on a cruise, you know what I’m talking about. And if
you’ve been on a cruise and don’t know what I mean by “cruise people,” then you
are one. If you haven’t been on a cruise, think: Loud amusement park family of twelve,
wearing all the amusement park clothing and souvenirs, dripping amusement park
food and drinks all over themselves and passersby, and no one can find Bobby
anywhere.)
Carnival, you have met millions of cruise people over the
years. They are literally the only people you deal with. And that being the
case, you actually made it sound like the ship would leave without them at
11:00 pm.
There is no possible scenario that exists in the cruise
people universe where that doesn’t become a train wreck. There was no better
way to make sure 6500 people all showed up at the same time than what you did.
But you weren’t satisfied with handling it only that poorly. You had more bad
decisions to make and you nailed every one of them.
You abandoned the time slot system, so it must have also
made sense to you to abandon any form of crowd control in front of the cruise
terminal building. In the stifling Miami heat and humidity, among the literally
thousands of people bunched up in a wad in front of the building, I watched multiple
fire trucks and emergency vehicles arrive to cart out older cruise people from
the center of the mob who had been overcome by the collective heat.
I watched pizzas being delivered through the crowd to cruise
people who had been at the terminal building all day, instead of waiting somewhere
else in Miami, foolishly assuming they would be the first to board.
Lack of line ropes to form any type of entrance pathway or
order? Check.
Lack of police or security guards or even uniformed Carnival
personnel to provide direction and crowd control of any kind for 6500 people?
Check.
Lack of signs or loudspeaker announcements to even tell
people what to do, where to go, or even what was going on? Check.
Expecting 6500 people with their luggage to magically and
orderly file one by one through the SINGLE DOORWAY into the cruise terminal.
Check.
I’m not making that up.
Carnival Cruise Lines, you are a mystery to me. The sheer
logistics of running even one of your ships must be mind boggling, yet you do
it all the time. But with this one tiny hiccup that could have so easily been
managed in a minute on the back of a cocktail napkin, you chose the worst and
most dangerous option available.
It was, quite simply, one of the dumbest things I’ve ever
seen, and that’s really saying something, because I’m raising teenage boys.
Your Captain should be keelhauled.
Do better,
-Smidge
Copyright © 2023 Marc Schmatjen
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