Crossing The Pond
New York to Southhampton
After a harrowing taxi ride with a jovial Bangladeshi cabbie who chattered away incomprehensibly while driving erratically, we slid around a corner and our ship came into sight.

Sleek and fine with her cheery red stack like the pimento in the olive in the martini, the Queen Mary 2 is a sight to behold. Even our babbling cabbie fell silent with a small gasp.
We waded through security, much like the airport only slightly more relaxed, filled out our health forms (Fever? Runny nose? Vomiting?) and after a long slow slalom of a queue, got our key cards with handy attached maps of the ship. Alone, we navigated a circuitous route, aided by helpful pointing staff, to the bridge to the ship. As we crossed over the water, I admired the car-sized fenders keeping her off the dock. My eighteen-year-old daughter Lucy was impressed by the arm-sized dock lines.

The ship is even more beautiful inside and we felt a little dazed by the unaccustomed opulence.

It was just the beginning. From her berth in Red Hook we had a perfect view of the length of Manhattan,

the rivers and Lady Liberty.

We scoped out the pools, paddle tennis court and shuffleboard.
On deck it was sunny and we had high hopes of seeing the full moon rise over the sea as the sun set that evening. Lucy’s favorite Miyazaki film is Kiki’s Delivery Service and she loved the happenstance of our departing on the full moon as Kiki does. But when I looked to the east, there were glowering clouds. Oh well, we shrugged, at least we know it’s full, even if we can’t see it.
Manhattan disappeared in our wake. Up ahead, the Verrazano Narrows Bridge came closer and closer. For a small boat sailor like myself, it was a little scary going so fast. From afar, the bridge looked very high as small boats zoomed under it. Lucy and I made our way to the bow and stood under the highest point on the ship with the gigantic radar things swinging around over our heads. Most of the passengers were still aft, watching NYC grow distant. I overheard a man telling his wife it was high tide and a full moon and I suddenly realized what that meant. The bridge began to look awfully low and we were approaching it mighty fast. A young woman with a lovely British lilt in her voice chimed in that we were expected to clear the bridge by just three meters, less than ten feet, she helpfully added for us Yanks.

Between us and the bridge was an adorable and very tiny-looking (we were thirteen stories up) white sailboat flying a colorful spinnaker. It appeared to be heading right for our charging bow. I imagined myself down there on our little boat. I think I’d be dousing that spinnaker and making a beeline out of the way of the Queen Mary 2’s path. But the little boat soldiered on, barely moving, with 80,000 tons (get your brain around that) of ship barreling down on her at twenty knots. With my camera lens zoomed in, I could see the little boat’s apparently unconcerned crew lounging in the cockpit. The man from New Jersey said something only a non-sailor would say in this case. He shrugged and said, “They have the right of way.” I had to look away because I was sure the sailors were all about to die.
Anyway, the bridge was getting closer and closer and we all looked up at the radar tower above us and back at the rapidly approaching bridge. Lucy noticed the cars going back and forth on two levels. I wondered what sound that steel tower above us would make when it hit the bridge. I had a vision of the ship slicing the bridge in two, both halves crashing down on the ship, the Sunday drivers finding themselves plopped into the swimming pool on the top deck of the ship. We all held our breath. No one spoke.

When we passed under it, everyone cheered. Our first bonding experience of the voyage.

We’d be with these people, 2537 of them to be exact, for the next seven days, eating with them, walking the decks with them, sharing yoga mats in the fitness center with them, swimming with them. Maybe some of them would become friends. It’s a special and uncommon thing, crossing the North Atlantic by sea and we all had that in common. For those of us who were making the trip for the first time, there was a sense of magic about it. Our ancestors made the same trip in reverse, with high hopes for their American Dream.
I have a photo of my grandmother as a teenager, just a little younger than Lucy, standing on the deck of a Cunard ship behind her parents who were sitting in the wooden deck chairs much like the ones they still have.

They were traveling back to Scotland to visit my great grandfather’s family. He had left them as a teenager himself and sailed to America where he lived his dream and made his fortune as an accountant in Chicago. Now Lucy is going to Wales to pursue her dream of becoming a costume designer.
All through the amazing dinner, which we dutifully dressed up for, I kept my eye on the sky. I badly wanted us to see the sun set and the moon rise over the water. As soon as we’d polished off our cranberry-pecan tart (me) and chocolate marquise (omg, Lucy), we excused ourselves from our shared table and dashed out on deck. It was cloudy. No moon, no sun, just a rapidly darkening sky.
Disappointed, we went below and donned our bathing suits for an evening dip in one of the many hot tubs. While I waited for Lucy to get her suit on, I glanced at the daily program which arrived in our mail slot. It said we were heading north. Stunned, I realized we’d looked in the wrong place for the moon. I assumed we were heading east and mistakenly thought the moon would rise to port.
We raced out on deck toward the pool. There were a few stars out between the clouds, maybe there was hope. I squinted at the horizon, but all was dark. Near the pool was a little bump-out where you could see forward toward the bow. I walked over to look while Lucy checked the temperature of the pool water. I stuck my head out into the wind and there was the full moon, dim and orange, half-covered by a cloud. I shouted to Lucy to come see and she ran over. We squealed with delight. We’d seen the moon. We were on our way across the pond. The hot tub was warm and soft music played nearby. We had the deck to ourselves. Our first day was almost over and it had been pretty much perfect. And we have six more to go.

The next part of this story can be found here.
