meclizine: a love story

I cannot believe it, but I’m finally here. Sitting in my cozy cabin on Deck 4 of the MV Explorer. Shuttling through the night somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic with around 700 of my soon to be closest friends.

It’s been a weird journey. Canada is pleasant but super expensive (two paperbacks for $45? you’ve got to be kidding me) and I had several near-panic attacks at the thought of a boat full of the aforementioned nerds but everything is completely – and weirdly – fine. I got here in one piece. They didn’t confiscate any of my belongings during luggage search (I uncomfortably shifted things in my toiletries bag when I overheard a SAS employee making fun of a girl whose steamer got confiscated. Um… whoops? Wrinkly clothes girl, if you’re out there, I’m in room 4058 and I’d be happy to share) and I made it through and onto the ship in ample time.

But before my journey to Pier 21 and aboard the Explorer, I ventured out into downtown Halifax for what would become a semi-infamous pre-SAS meetup.

Remember how awkward it was pre-freshman year when you were so excited to go off to college and would sit on Facebook during lazy summer days stalking your future classmates? Alright, that was mildly acceptable when we were 18. But we’re, for the most part, upperclassmen now. WHY in God’s name did a handful of horny guido SAS-ers from middle of nowhere Pennsylvania send me Facebook messages asking what country I was most excited to visit when they saw my picture in the “SAS Summer Voyage 2010” Facebook group? Because Semester At Sea is freshman year all over again.

And the night before embarkation was like the night before your fall semester started. Which frat would throw the biggest blowout? What grimy wannabe promoter would secure the most buses to venues in South Beach and undoubtedly promise no line/no wait/no cover/open bar and then deliver none of the above? Who would you make out with?

This all went down at one of the classic Halifax haunts – The Argyle.

One soon to be infamous SAS-er decided to be “that guy” and order a shot for every person in the bar, racking up a nearly $400 bar tab. Needless to say he has one of the most expensive cabins (the Junior Suite - hell yeah) and made a whole boatload (pun intended) of friends who he didn’t remember meeting once he actually boarded the ship. It was a little awkward and a little sad watching the 75% girls on the boat (that’s right, 75% of the 700ish students are girls) vie for the few and far between males feeding them alcohol and cheesy lines. I got out of there pretty quick but hey, at least I got some good material for this blog.

“What’s your major?” “where are you from?” and the newly added “where do you go to school?” Oh the magic three questions that must have left my lips no less than 250 times in the past three days. Empty promises of summer-long friendships abound just like at the dawn of college life.

But luckily, the nerds and Facebook creepers seemed to have disappeared into the shadows of the MV Explorer and I’ve met some really amazing people. It’s also been interesting to meet more students from different areas of the country I’m unfamiliar with. When I first set foot on campus at UMiami I became accustomed to the foreign breed of human known as “northerner” who talked louder and cursed more than me. Now, I’m exploring the seemingly wonderful culture of California. The west coast, Cali in particular, is the most heavily represented area on the boat. I think every person from California is just nicer, per capita, than people from the east coast. No offense, I love New York City more than anywhere in the world but that hard exterior they have can often be hard to crack, even with the charms of a Southern belle like myself. Californians want to be your best friend like a golden retriever from the moment they meet you. I could get used to this.

From the token meatheads who have already attempted to lift weights despite the crazy imbalance of the boat AND taken a pathetic jog around the deck totaling at no more than a quarter mile to the one kid who is a rising freshman in college and getting his first college experience on SAS, this boat is a social experiment. Hey, let’s see what happens when we shove 700+ mostly rich (hence, used to being pampered) college students into tiny cabins with complete strangers. I wonder what they’ll do when they are ripped away from their precious Facebooks and Blackberries and forced to communicate via… actually speaking? Today I literally bought a pad of cute pink post-it notes to leave messages on people’s doors when I can’t find them. I also have a master plan of capturing and training a carrier pigeon from that famous square in Veniceand smuggling him back onto the ship with me. I’m learning just how intertwined our society is with technology. This is going to take some getting used to. Although I must say, my vacation from my Blackberry has been oddly freeing.

And oh, while we’re on the topic of getting used to things. I have neglected to address the most glaring issue facing us SAS-ers in current days.

Seasickness.

Humans are not supposed to reside at sea. That’s what land is for. Oh, beautiful, stable, unmoving land. How I miss thee. Already almost a thousand miles behind me on the coast of Nova Scotia. Less than three days in and I’d wager a good three-quarters of the ship has puked or at least considered it. Once we reached open water on the Atlantic people started throwing caution to the wind and racing for the nearest bathroom in mid-meeting, mid-conversation, hell, mid-anything. The twisty, knotty, just slightly swaying feeling you get in your stomach at sea is really, really terrible. I came prepared with these painfully dorky too-small to be sweatbands/too-big to be bracelets looking bands that supposedly help maintain your equilibrium. To that I say, bullshit. My only solace has been these cute little pastel colored pills called “Meclizine” that the front desk (or in proper nautical terms, the “purser’s desk”) hands out like candy to the queasy masses. They could be placebos for all I know, but at least I’ve been able to sit through two classes thus far today.

Last night, however, was not as peaceful. At 6 AM the entire boat was awoken to the sound of desk drawers flying open and slamming shut, phones soaring off desks, snacks careening out of their containers (I’m not kidding. My friends’ room had honey-roasted peanuts strewn from one end to the other). I felt like I was on the T-word (I feel like it’s socially unacceptable to talk about the Titanic while seated on a passenger vessel in the same-ish vicinity of the Atlantic that was her final resting place but whatever) watching the level on my water bottle on the desk side table go crazy with the motion of the waves, only to fly off like every other content of my room.

It’s pretty hilarious watching people get startled by a sudden lurch of the ship and enter a “power stance” as I like to call it to regain their balance. I can’t say I’m not guilty of doing the same, though. I’m still getting my sea legs.

Our first port is Barcelona and I could not be more excited. I’ve dreamt of studying abroad in Barca for my entire life as I’ve spoken of before, particularly when I had a brief stint in high school where I considered being a Spanish major. Although I think that may have had more to do with the attractive guys who always seemed to be in my classes more than a love for the language itself, but whatever. We have four days and three nights in port so I’ll be working my ass off to plan the world’s most perfect itinerary to do and see everything I can in that short of a time.

If anything else noteworthy happens on the ship between now and then I’ll be sure to update you, my devoted readers. Until then, adios.