BrianDavidBruns

What do you say to a group of thirty scared, exhausted, but excited people who have flown 5,000 to 10,000 miles from home to start a new job at sea? What words can simultaneously console both a macho Bulgarian man and a timid Indonesian woman? Upon joining Carnival Fantasy’s restaurant training, I heard the following spiel, more or less, and found it engaging. “Let me welcome you aboard,” said the trainer. “We are going to have a lot of fun, and we are going to do a lot of work. I guarantee this will be a new experience for all of you. It will not be easy. Let’s start with why you are here. You’re all here for the same reason: money. “So to make money, you first need to learn about serving Americans. It doesn’t matter what things were like back home. The majority of cruisers are American, so you need to learn what they like and what they don’t like. Americans are the easiest people to serve in the world. They’re not interested in fine service. They eat out all the time there, so being in the dining room is not a special occasion for them the way it is for most of us. So they don’t want a servant: they want a friend. They will ask personal questions about you and your family. They’ll ask where you’re from, but don’t be upset if they don’t know where that is. Most won’t. “This is an American corporation with American guests, which means American standards. That doesn’t mean you must eat hamburgers every day, but it does mean washing with soap and water every day. I’m from India, for example, and lots of Indians smell bad because they don’t use soap. That may be fine back home, but it can’t happen here. America means deodorant. “And ships mean English. In guest areas always use English. Even if you are talking about cricket scores in your native language, Americans will assume you’re talking about them. Nobody knows why. I guess it’s their big sense of personal identity. “Now let me tell you a true story. A waiter from the Philippines once had a table of old ladies who refused to leave after lunch. He needed them out so he could set up his station for dinner. Finally they ordered more coffee, which was long gone. He had to brew more. It meant he was going to miss preparing for his dinner guests, which probably meant hard time for the second seating, too. He stormed away swearing in Tagalog, using very bad words. He assumed he was safe. But one of the ladies was married to a military man stationed in the Philippines. She understood every word and told the hotel director. The waiter was forced to apologize and was sent home the very next port, mid-cruise. “Carnival has over sixty nationalities that get along very well. If we don’t, we get sent home. That means no money. If you fight with anybody because he’s different, you will be sent home. No money. Even if someone hits you and you don’t fight back, you are both going home. Carnival takes it that seriously. Revel in learning about the world, but don’t forget why we are here. “Look around,” he said. “These strange foreigners are all here, just like you, for the money. And though it may not seem like it now, by the end of training these strange foreigners will feel like family.” He was right. When the four weeks were up, there was not a dry eye in the class. By Brian David Bruns, author of national best-seller Cruise Confidential. Pics of the people and places I blog about are on my website and FB pages, join me! www.BrianDavidBruns.com https://www.facebook.com/BrianDavidBruns

I’m talking about a man of a different sort. A bird whisperer. The Bird Man of Conquest. I prefer the latter name because it evokes the cramped, sparse living conditions of Alcatraz. That’s closer to a crew’s experience than, say, comfy suburbanites with enough expendable income for professional pet counseling. I’m not judging, but rather reminding that American attitudes towards animals are puzzling to the majority of the world. American pets are part of the family, receiving the same affection and accommodations as our children (certainly mine, anyway!). But many people around the world coexist with animals in a way I can scarcely conceive. I saw some of it on Conquest. We were docked in Montego Bay. The sun shot through the clouds in bold shafts, I remember, and the air was heavy with moisture. Those of us in the Lido restaurant denied shore leave were consoled by the nearby presence of damp green tree tops, mottled with shadows yet lively with colorful birds hopping to and fro. It was a quiet afternoon of dazzling beauty. Apparently we were not the only ones dazzled. A solitary bird, perhaps lured by the scent of food, had flown into the restaurant. He was a small, gaily-colored little bird. The poor guy fluttered about, unable to find the exit, confused by the overhanging mezzanine that refused to act like a jungle canopy. He zig-zagged through the dining room, zipping this way and that, growing more and more agitated by the minute. We gleefully kept the doors open and tried to herd him towards freedom. There was much laughter, but we were ultimately unsuccessful. After a while, now flapping in pure desperation, the bird disappeared deeper into the galley. Suddenly we realized the little burst of joy that gave us a much-needed break in an otherwise rigid, exhausting routine had probably done so at the expense of his life. It was a sad moment. “I’ll get him,” said a waiter confidently. He was from Indonesia. His name was Bambang. “If he couldn’t figure out how to escape through all these open double doors,” I said doubtfully, “How can you expect to herd him through the small doors of the galley and the corridors?” Bambang just smiled and asked, “May I go after him?” Like I would say no. But then again, this could easily have been an excuse to sneak a cigarette while on duty. (I’ve had waiters literally claim their mothers’ death just to get an extra smoke). Nary five minutes passed and out from the galley came Bambang. We clustered around him, but he gave us a silent head-shake to keep us at bay. For perched upon his finger, tiny chest heaving, was the bird. Bambang strode to the nearest exterior doors, whispering softly to his new companion. He even caressed it with gentle strokes of the back of his fingers. Once outside, the bird flew off to its native Jamaica. “I’m from a small village in the jungle,” Bambang explained simply before returning to soiled plates and silverware. I was awestruck. Could I have made the transition Bambang had? Before ships he had not only been one with nature, but likely lived entirely defined by its caprice. How utterly different his life must have been, before this one of tight metal walls, recycled air, and artificial light. I was reminded that each crew member, regardless of duties or labels, was indeed an individual treasure. And it gave me hope that I could maybe, just maybe, hope to someday control my cats. By Brian David Bruns, author of national best-seller Cruise Confidential. Win a free autographed paperback of my newest cruise book, Unsinkable Mister Brown! Details at www.BrianDavidBruns.com

Today, jacketwatch, today! Check it out. If there is any subject you are interested in learning about, let me know in a comment. That's an open invitation to all!

Food keeps crew members from fully integrating, perhaps more than any other single thing on the big ships. Access to ‘food from home’ varies dramatically because ‘home’ varies so dramatically. Some cruise lines have more Indian, or eastern European, or Caribbean dishes, depending on the make-up of the crew. International food for crew is the real deal, unlike, say, the food court at the mall, where you get Mexican (Taco Bell), Italian (Sbaro’s), or Chinese (Panda Express), which are utterly Americanized. Ironically, ships do cater to American tastes below the waterline, despite only a handful of us aboard. Even more ironic is that nearly all are entertainers who won’t eat it. But hot dogs and hamburgers are cheap, so mystery solved. But every day on every ship of every cruise line is Asian day. Massive amounts of steamed white rice are always available, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, bowing to the preponderance of eastern Asian crew. I will never forget my first trip to the crew mess, on Carnival Fantasy. While I heaped a couple strip steaks on my plate (I love you, Carnival!), my colleagues opted for a mound of white rice and a ladleful of fish head soup poured over the top. Perhaps that explained our radical disparity of weight. Fortunately, I found the different foods from different cultures a benefit (I’m a foodie). Many did not. Considering how hard we all worked, the desire for familiar, comforting food was understandable. Further, most crew came from rural environments with limited diversity and limited interest in it. But the real problem isn’t food, but food habits. Food is not allowed in crew cabins, though all crew types sooner or later sneak some in. Many keep a ready supply of dry goods, which are sometimes legal. Asians, for example, hoard entire flats of instant noodles, and who’s going to know about a secreted hot plate, enabling a late night snack? But this maritime discipline regarding food was enacted with good reason. Two, actually, because on some ships there are roaches. Even a ship passing a health inspection with flying colors may have pest problems down in the bowels where the crew live. (don’t freak: we all know rats abandon ship first, right?) But the real reason food is denied in crew cabins is because it invariably ends up in the toilets in a most nonbiological manner. Ship toilets are very, very sensitive. The crew? Not so much. When working on RCI’s Majesty of the Seas, we had to contend with this latter issue to the extreme. Fish bones backed up the sewage system so often that the entire aft crew deck smelled like feces. Literally. What killed me was that disposing evidence was the only time many flushed the toilets at all! I still shudder at the seeing the overworked zombies brushing their teeth beside toilets filled to the brim, lids wide open. Equally confusing to me was why a crew member flushed a shoe. This resulted in backing up the waste systems for the entire ship, and none other than the hotel director himself was forced to search the cabins. He swore a lot that day. Despite all this, some of us do have access to room service. That doesn’t mean the crew is happy to provide it, though. One night my order of several sandwiches resulted in bread so deeply impressed by the thumbs of an enraged chef that I could all but see his fingerprints. By Brian David Bruns, author of national best-seller Cruise Confidential. Pics of the people and places I blog about are on my website and FB pages, join me! www.BrianDavidBruns.com https://www.facebook.com/BrianDavidBruns Details on the NCL Epic Bruns cruise at patsea@cruiseadventures4U.com

Thanks sailingrose, I'm thrilled to be here. I like Cruise Crazies, it keeps things positive. Well, I might grumble a bit here and there, but it's always with a wry grin. I loved working on ships even more than I do writing about them.

Olympic gold medalist Hope Solo has vindicated what I’ve been saying since I wrote Cruise Confidential. Alas, it did not involve meeting the sexy sports legend, but merely her quote. A highly relevant quote. “There’s a lot of sex going on,” she stated to ESPN in July. "With a once-in-a-lifetime experience, you want to build memories, whether it's sexual, partying, or on the field. I've seen people having sex right out in the open. On the grass, between buildings, people are getting down and dirty." She was talking about the Olympic Village, but if you inserted ‘crew cabins’ she would have been right on the money. Swimmer Ryan Lochte—another multiple gold medalist—backed Solo up, stating he believes "70 percent to 75 percent of Olympians” hook up behind the scenes, adding slyly, "Hey, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do." But these are Olympians, humans who do stuff daily the rest of us would find impossible, right? Enter your cruise ship waiters. They work every day, all day, for up to ten months straight. Sure, the time-clocks say only 80 hours a week, but we all know that doesn’t include time spent guarding your station from roving packs of waiters, hungry for your saucers and side plates. Many of us showed up an hour early before every shift, and most days that’s three shifts. All that’s on top of boat drill: both passenger’s and crew’s. Yet crew still find plenty of time to hook up, and not necessarily in their cabins, either. I’ve seen crew going at it on open decks (a particularly wild crew party on Carnival Fantasy comes to mind...). At sea the reasons for this wild abandon are very much the same as in Olympic Village. Despite coming from every corner of the globe, everybody is there for the same reason. They’re all far from home, working hard at something nobody back home can possibly relate to. All are generally young, generally attractive, and generally can’t get on board unless proven squeaky-clean. And ships provide free condoms for the crew. More than 100,000 condoms were distributed to athletes for the London Olympics, according to Yahoo contributor David C. Cutler. It took only one week for athletes at the Olympic Village at the 2000 Sydney Olympic Games to run out of the 70,000 condoms supplied. See? Similarities between Olympians and crew are rising. Funny how cruise lines won’t reveal just how many condoms they distribute. Those of us who lived below the waterline certainly know. Working on a cruise ship is a work-hard, play-hard lifestyle. For most of us, it’s only for a short period in our lives, when we’re young and adventurous. Why not make the most of it? You have a world-wide smorgasbord of bodies to choose from, probably for the only time in your life. That’s worth losing a little sleep over. And for those who still don’t believe that crew can party like Olympians and still function in the morning, I offer Hope’s parting words to ESPN: "When we were done partying, we got out of our nice dresses, got back into our stadium coats and, at 7 a.m. with no sleep, went on the TODAY show drunk." By Brian David Bruns, author of national best-seller Cruise Confidential. Win an autographed paperback of Brian's latest cruise book! http://www.BrianDavidBruns.com/BDB/Books.html

Hello all! My name is Brian David Bruns, and I have taken a whopping zero cruises. That said, I worked on ships for four semi-glorious years (I loved it, but there were some rough patches!). Some of you may have read my book series, Cruise Confidential, which now boasts three books. I'm currently stuck in Las Vegas and, after five years of desert, I'm finally getting to my first cruise in Feb 2013. I'll be doing a book-signing cruise on Norwegian Epic. Anyway, it's fun to be here!