Band Cruise

Back in September 2022, I had started a new job. Jon was back in school full-time and we needed some sort of income, fortunately the Junior High was hiring. Thus began my brief sojourn as the "Band Aide" - the Teacher's Aide to the Band Teacher. Up until this point in my life, I would have told you without hesitation that my favorite job I ever had was lifeguarding. I'm pretty confident my new favorite job is being the "Band Aide." I owned the heck out of my nickname too. For Halloween I made a giant "band-aid" costume using those foam mattress toppers. I cut out two Kristen-size pieces for my front and back and had a hole for my face, slits in the sides for my arms, and a hole in the bottom for my legs. I was like a giant band-aid mascot and I thought my costume was hilarious and amazing until some mean flute player in grade 12 said, "What are you? A pad?" Then I was much less confident and rather sheepish that I didn't just dress like a hippie like the rest of the Jr High staff. Live and learn.

Anyway, my biggest responsibility as the Band Aide was to plan the upcoming Band Cruise that the grade 9-12 band students could go on during Easter Break. Had I ever been on a cruise? Nope. Had I ever planned a trip for 50 people? Nada. But I somehow managed to do a pretty bang up job. We were still coming out of Covid and figuring out travel restrictions. I made phone calls I never dreamed I would. Ever phoned the American Centre for Disease Control (CDC)? I have. Phoned airlines, cruise lines? This girl has. I also communicated with chaperones and parents several times a week, making sure every imaginable form was completed. The band teacher and I also held notary nights and information meetings. I had to assign hotel rooms and cabins. It was a huge endeavor but I made sure we were prepared air tight and the whole entire cruise went off without a hitch. Minus the horrible weather and sea sickness... but more on that later.

So last Easter Break I was the pregnant teacher's aide joining a group of 40ish teenagers and their accompanying chaperone parents. I believe the entire group was 54 people. We met at the high school at 1 am on a Sunday morning and arrived in Orlando, Florida that evening. That first night away hurt. Once we arrived at the hotel, all the other adults snuck away to call their significant others. It seemed like everyone had someone and I didn't. I wasn't going to call Jon to tell him I made it. I did call my kids, but that just didn't feel the same. It was the first time since everything started that I felt the acute sting of loneliness. It wasn't that fun. 

The next day we boarded the Independence of the Seas and as soon as we set out for sea it felt like the boat became a giant paint shaker. And not once had it occurred to me that I should pack medicine for motion/sea sickness. I felt awful. Fortunately my roommate was a godsend and shared her meds with me. As I sat in the fancy dining room that night at my assigned table, I was actively focusing all my energy into breathing in, breathing out, looking at the table, and encouraging myself into thinking I felt fine. And I was doing alright until the young man I shared a table with took his first bite of escargot and then exclaimed, "Mmm! It's like a meaty gummy bear!" At which point I discreetly barfed in my napkin and made a drunken, teetering walk back to my cabin. And although I felt like death, I couldn't help but notice all the "wet floor" signs, ambiguous splash marks running down the sides of garbage cans, and dark splotches on the carpeted hallways. I wasn't alone. Me and a few thousand people were trapped on a never ending amusement park ride.

The next morning we were supposed to port at Nassau, Bahamas. When we met as a group at 8 am to make plans for the day, we all looked grey. The captain then came over the intercom to let us know that it would be too dangerous to make port that day and we would be having our "day at sea." Talk about a sucker punch to the gut. The prospect of getting on solid land had been the light at the end of the stuck-on-a-ship tunnel and now we were still just stuck on a ship. I know some people cried haha. I literally just laid in bed all day and napped. It felt like I was being rocked in a cradle. As the day went on, word got around that the night before the cruise was short staffed since even the cruise workers felt sick. That it took them hours to clean up all the throw up, again, because they were short staffed. And that the captain of the ship had said this was the worst April weather he had ever seen in his entire career. Lucky us!

The next day we docked at Coco Cay, which is a private island owned by the Royal Caribbean cruise line. We got to soak up the rain on cloudy beaches, but at least we were on solid ground. That night I did something I had dreamed of FOREVER. I don't know why, but I have spent the majority of my adult life wanting to sing karaoke and the opportunity never presented itself until I was on a cruise. So I got on a stage in front of a bunch of strangers and belted out Lady Gaga's "You and I" to the best of my ability. It was a hoot.

On Thursday we finally docked in Nassau. I spent the day tagging along with the girl I chaperoned. We snorkeled, explored the markets, and got sun burnt. Then that evening the kids performed their bandly duties and we watched the play Grease. All in all, it was a good time. I'm glad I went. It stunk to feel sick, but the stories are pretty hilarious in retrospect.

The only picture I took of myself the whole entire trip

Oh, for our travel days I had the privilege of designing a dorky matching shirt we could all wear. As we were boarding one of our flights home, a flight attendant asked me, "What instrument do you play?" and it made my life complete. She had mistaken me as a band student. I told her I was a teacher's aide and thanked her profusely.

When I finally got home in the middle of the night, there was a giant poster welcoming me home and some helium balloons. Jon had been staying with the kids and I was oddly moved by this gesture. How thoughtful of him to go through the effort of helping the kids welcome me home. Maybe there's hope? Is this him trying? I soon found out the next day that my mom had actually helped the kids do that, it was all her idea and effort. It's a weird feeling to still be grateful and thankful and feel loved, but just not by the first person you assumed it was. Oh well.

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