Stay Classy San Diego

Greetings from somewhere in the Pacific! We have not yet moved our clocks from California time, but we are definitely heading due West. Online minutes have proven to be few and far between in the last 48 hours, and with all of the students now on the ship, the internet is especially slow. I am getting all of your special bon voyage emails, however, and I love them! Thank you for thinking of me. To update you, two days ago, I was in the Port of San Diego, making my way through umpteen orientation meetings, sneaking in runs around the San Diego Bay when I could. I realize that these runs are especially important because we are always eating on the ship. They say the quality of the food declines when we move away from the ports and into the sea, but so far it has only been good, good, good. Chocolate croissants at breakfast, peanut butter cake at lunch, pie at dinner—I am cut-off until I can get up in the gym and work on my fitness. This past Friday was interspersed with open bar social hours on the ship at lunch and at dinner; it concluded with a celebratory social in the faculty & staff lounge. We sailed from San Diego at 11 PM or 2300 hours Friday night (everything is in military time on the ship). It was such an incredible feeling when we left the dock and motored into Mexico (Good-bye, Ron Burgundy)—I was overcome with knowing that pushing off from the dock was the true start of the trip. The students weren’t on the ship (they had a two hour bus ride from San Diego to Mexico and met us the following morning) so the ship was practically empty with just faculty, staff, and crew. I crawled into bed at 200 hours and, although it seems like weeks ago now, arrived only yesterday morning in Ensenada, Mexico at 700 hours. Once arriving in Mexico, I jumped out of bed and hurried to my Check-In station to greet the 638 students coming on board (ONSP—I can’t ever escape Check-In—at least I didn’t have to make the signs this time, although there is much room for signage improvement). Six and a half hours later, everyone was checked-in and registered for at least 12 credits—you’d be proud, Rachel.

Then the entire ship had to head out for a lifeboat drill. We have life preservers in all of our cabins that we periodically have to wear around the ship for the drills. Only one person fainted when we have to stand in silent attention while the captain walks thorough and makes sure that we are adequately turned out for the drill. After the drill we had dinner and more orientation meetings. It was a LOOOOOOOOOONNNG day, but we were up bright and early this morning for a full day of orientation meetings with the students as we move forward to Honolulu, Hawaii. Not to boast, but, currently, I would be hard to beat in a ship popularity contest as 92847692834769238476529348 students have sought me out with questions about the add/drop period. Add/drop occurs for two days only, is conducted by yours truly, and happens only after the first two days of classes. The good news is I will have a ton of contact with students during this process—some of whom have already emerged as real superstars. The bad news is that I have two days to figure out how I am going to manually enter all of the add/drops for the students. Luckily, I supervise a wonderful work study student to help staff my office, which, before this ship was leased by Semester at Sea was the ship’s casino. It is likely that learning to operate the currently defunct casino will be the only way to maintain my current level of popularity after add/drop. I suppose all good things must come to an end.

One of the best parts of being on the ship thus far is that one of my friends from UVa is on the ship until Honolulu to give presentations to faculty and students about the UVa Honor Code. Justin’s presence ensures that I always have a partner in crime on the ship AND that I will never be without care packages. Learney, Ish, Connie Lee, Tim Him, and Tab thank you so much for all of the goodies you sent my way via Justin. Because of you I got a ton of laughs during a very busy day when I needed them. I have hung all of your photos, Misty and That Jeff’s photos, and Connie’s training certificates where appropriate, as not to scare the students. The Tybee Thug CD is in my player as I write and the school house pen is in use. The gummy bears have sustained me during many an orientation meeting. I also got to expand my wardrobe (thank you for the high heels, Lauren). I’m overly blessed as Paula Deen would say.

I’m off to bed. Sleeping on the ship so far has been like being rocked to sleep. So far the motion of the ocean suits me just fine, but others have not been so lucky feeling up with ginger pills, pressure bracelets, and Dramamine from the on-board clinic. Being on the ship feels like standing on one of those core boards at the gym—sometimes the resistance is set really high and sometimes it is much less and harder to balance. It’s not uncommon to run into people while walking on the ship or to have desk drawers open and the close as the ship rocks back and forth. Tomorrow I intend to hit the ship’s gym where my sea legs will truly be tested on the tread mill. Miss you!