I had the worst sleep. Between a third day of fucking fever and headaches (the Tylenol was barely having any effect), the crew decided to have an all-night dance party in the crew quarters underneath us (Deck A, below Deck 1, is crew-only).
I got maybe three hours of actual sleep.
I woke for the final time, amidst a ridiculous amount of clanging and banging from what sounded like anchor chains (but we’re in the middle of the ship) as we crossed English Bay towards the Lions Gate Bridge. I made a hasty visit to the Verandah again (arriving just in time) to record our entrance to Burrard Inlet and the Port of Vancouver. I watched until we arrived at Lighthouse Point.
Mom was just finishing packing as I returned; I completed my packing, ready to depart after breakfast. We were due to arrive back in port at 7:00am; the ship tied up at 7:04. I’ve said it before in this posts and I’ll say it again: the logistics and timing for these cruises is mind-boggling and I cannot praise these folks enough for the sheer level of planning required to make it all work so smoothly and on-time.
I made the mistake of trying to get waffles (finally) at the Lido Market. I could have gone to any other station, loaded up, and gone back to the table twice in the time it took to get one underwhelming semi-pastry. (Honestly, for all their efficiency, the waffle station needs a serious upgrade in constant production.)
The announcements started to indicate order of departure: what colours and at what times. Mom and I had decided to self-disembark, which avoided delays. As soon as we were done breakfast, we headed down to our room for the last time.
I’ll now return to the efficiency of Vancouver’s cruise port. Loading up to four ships at once is an impressive feat. Unloading a ship seems even more superior. (Given it might not be the same if you’re one of those who has the ship unload your bags. Your mileage will probably vary.) From the time we left our room, went up to Deck 3 (by elevator), went across the ramp (which, thankfully, was level with the cruise port level), through the customs hall, and out the door to the waiting taxis was less than 5 minutes.
Customs, by the way? We had our forms filled out, as any good Canadian does when returning. There was no desk, we just handed over the document and walked out past a line of about 20 agents. No questions, no passports.
Obvious question is: How? How are they letting that happen?! Where’s the control?
Well, it took me the cab ride out of downtown to figure that out. It dawned on me that we had our passports scanned when we entered the ship. Our photos were taken. We were documented from the moment we arrived. And every exit required us to tap out, every return required a phone and a tap in. Holland America knew where we were at all times. All recorded, a complete history. And that is provided to Immigration Canada as proof. Passports are, at that point, pointless – they don’t need to ask where you’ve been, they know. And barring any Mission: Impossible-level subterfuge, you’re not sneaking past.
The cab driver was aggressive. But I’ll tell you, I’ve never gotten from downtown Vancouver to the airport in less time. Even in the middle of the night.
We were quite early, which gave us time to get settled, have a coffee, and relax. The flight was on time, full, and as usual, short. It might have taken almost as much time for us to get our bags, as Calgary Airport’s baggage system has completely fallen apart. It certainly explains why people want overhead storage as much as possible.
Brenda was there for pickup. We loaded up on the Departures level to avoid the chaos of Arrivals. It was sane in the days prior to Uber; now it’s nonsense.
I was dropped off first, which was fine for me, because I could go right to bed. I really need to shake this cold. Ugh.
