Crosseyed and Painless

(Part 3 of something that happend to me some time ago)

Our good deal waiting tables on the largest city afloat (at the time)
supposedly extended to our hours.

As the managements way of saying thank you for helping them out as such
short notice, we were given light duties. We only had to serve breakfast
lunch and dinner. We were being excused from serving Afternoon Tea.

My idea of saying thank you would have been to let us off at the next port

However, once you were used to the routine the hours weren't that bad. Two
hours for breakfast, three for lunch, and say, four for dinner. So you got
some time off in the afternoon and between 11pm and 7am, your time was
your own.

"What do you do?" I asked,

I was curious as to the options, sunbake, swim, write?

"No mate" my roomie tells me.

"The pool is only open from 8pm. The only deck with seating and sun
is funnel deck, called so for obvious reasons, and the bar opens at 7pm"

He paused to take another drag from his cigarette.

"Do what everyone does, sleep"

And so the routine was set. Get up, work a bit, sleep, work some more,
get drunk, pass out, get up in time for breakfast. And don't get seasick.

Seasickness is not really a problem. The sea moves, you get sick, no
problem. But as Captain and Doctor alike will tell you, it is all in the
head. If your brain can see where your stomach is going, you'll be fine.

This, naturally, calls for fresh air and a window, two things that don't
exist for crew. So instead you just have to tell your brain to ignore
what your stomach is saying, assume your ears are faulty and plod on
regardless. It takes some time to get used to, but if you keep yourself
busy it works.

If it doesn't work and the hangover is just too much there are toilets
conveniently placed near all the danger zones with that reassuring wet,
slippery floor that tells you you are not the only one.

You are, I guess, all in the same boat.

Even now, many years later, I can still recall that one morning, after we'd
had a very nasty bender the night before, when one of our customers, the
bastard, decided that they wanted kippers for breakfast. We had to take
turns to go out there. We could only last 5 minutes before one of us
wanted to hurl.

Looking back now, I can, at best say, that it was an experience. I got
off lightly with just a taste of what i could have committed myself to.

A standard contract was 7 days a week for 3 months. Free room and board in
the finest post industrial steel spaces the Empire has to offer and
everything for sale is duty free.

If you need a free passage across the planet and can get used to the
unchanging routine and disgusting hours, the job is not particularly bad.
It's a cheap way to live.

If you actually care about your sanity, you should probably consider
driving a taxi.

We now return you to our regularly scheduled programme.