Hint: This Queen's a Ship

About 6 hours ago an email popped into my in-box from the Entertainment Office of Princess Cruises in California.

I've been working my ass off here in Texas for a company that promised a lot more it could deliver. They almost bled me dry for ideas, most of which worked, none of which they paid me enough for. And yet, I saw Zorba the Greek the other night and I decided that the only sense of it all is to act like Zorba when his mountainside tramway or whatever the hell it was came crashing down. And that is, to laugh it off and come up dancing. There's no other way, really, or I become embittered and churlish, just like these folks I worked for. Let them chase down every buck they think ought to be coming their way, concealing, cheating, lying, misrepresenting themselves.

What would Zorba do? He'd laugh it off, the same way Anthony Quinn laughed off the priests who owned the land that Zorba's machinery was on, and, I think, if he were a musician in the present day, he'd call up the cruise ship company for which he worked and make it known he was available for duty. (Needless to say, he'd dance up the gangway and wave at the priests as they receded into insignificance as the ship sailed.)

And that's what I did. I called Princess Cruises and told them I was available. A known quantity, I sailed on the Dawn Princess in Alaska, the Grand out of Galveston, and twice on the Star--once in the Baltic just after it was repaired from the fire in the Caribbean, and once, briefly, as it returned to the very scene of the fire. 

A couple days passed. Then, this afternoon came the reply: five ships to choose from, but only one of interest: The Queen Elizabeth 2, the mighty QE2, fastest commercial ship in the world, the last of the great liners, emphatically NOT a cruise ship. The Queen is built to cross, not to cruise. 

More significant than its total uniqueness is the fact that the Queen will retire after this go-round. The sun will set on her in permanent moorings in the oil-rich ermirate of Dubai sometime in 2008. By then we'll have parted company.

So, even though I have a pretty full calendar coming up through the holidays, even though I will miss my life partner and my family, I'll be joining the QE2 as a ship's musician in the big band in three short weeks. I'll fly to England, to the world's worst airport, and walk up the gangway like Zorba.