It has been nearly two and a half months since my last entry, and for good reason. Since I last wrote, I have, with 16 pairs of shoes, 80% of my entire wardrobe, 3 different types of body cream, 2 Louis Vuitton bags, and my heavy pile of audition material, moved into a tiny cabin aboard a gigantic ship. For the last two months, I have been learning the ways of life at sea. The rules, the regulations, the rituals. It has been, at times, temper-tantrum inducing (I may have a bit of a reputation for throwing a fit when angered by now), at other times, liberating and wonderful.
I was told by an astrologist recently that, having been born a Libra, I am now becoming a Libra-Scorpio. She explained that, with this transition, I was losing a little of the Libra niceness and gaining a little of the Scorpio fire. In other words, I'm becoming a bit of a bitch. However, she assured me that this crueler side of my temper would only show itself when provoked and under the right circumstances, when a sharp tongue is needed to stop my Libran good-nature from being taken advantage of. Being born a Libra, I will never lose my strong sense of fairness; never treat anyone with meaness, unless I truly feel that it is deserved. A situation comes to mind to illustrate: I had gone to the buffet-style restaurant on the ship by myself for lunch one day. By this time, we had been on the ship for 6 weeks, and I had taken to eating at least one meal in there a day. Being a featured singer, I have the privilege of eating in this particular restaurant, whereas there are other crew who do not have this priviledge. Our production manager had sent an email to all staff who worked in the restaurant with the names of those who had the privilege of eating there, along with our pictures, so that the restaurant staff had a reference. The day that email was sent out, I was welcomed by name by a waiter I hadn't met before, but who already knew my name and face because he had received the email. I digress. I was having lunch. As I had been for the past 6 weeks. I had come straight from a safety drill and went in just as the restaurant opened. I was wearing my uniform, which I am only ever required to wear for safety drills. But, I was starving and didn't want to take the time to change before lunch. A dire mistake, as I soon found out.
While I was eating, a restaurant manager approached me and asked if I had the privilege to be eating there. After 6 weeks of eating in the same place, I was now singled out because I was wearing a uniform. This infuriated me, for, would I REALLY be eating there if I wasn't allowed to? You must understand, that working on a ship means that you work for military, and working for military means that you are under constant scrutiny by people who do not care that you came onto the ship as an artist to perform. No, according to them, you are on the ship as a crewmember who must abide by many rules and perform many duties (none of which has been written in your artist's contract), and should one of those rules be broken, you are not called into your boss' office to have a diplomatic chat. Ha! Diplomacy does not exist on the sea, where the laws of land are not recognised. You unkowingly break a rule (because you are pretty much left on your own the second you board the ship to figure it all out), and you get shouted at by a big, red-faced officer in a way that degrades and patronises. I will go as far to say that sometimes I have been spoken to as if I were not a human being. You cannot try and explain yourself or lose your temper, or even ask them to speak appropriately to you, because in the world of ships, the only thing that matters is how many stripes a person's uniform has, not who is actually right and who is actually wrong. After 6 weeks of "getting into trouble" like a junior high kid, for silly things like re-filling a water bottle before a show (there is no water in the theatre) my patience had just about worn thin when this schmuck asked me if I had the privilege to do something that I blatantly would not be doing if I was not allowed to. Though inside, I was boiling and hissing like a kettle, I kept an outward cool and told him that, yes, I had the privilege. My word was not enough for him, and he asked to see my crew card. I gave it to him, he took his time writing down my details (to "double check"), and upon handing the card back to me, said, "the chef noticed that you were one of the first to come in, and he wants you to know that it looks very bad if you are eating before the guests." This kettle was about to burst into flames. I glared at him, smiled, and said through clenched teeth, "so how many guests should I wait to come in before I'm allowed to come in?" He replied, "you don't have to wait for a specific number of guests to come in, just come in half an hour after the restaurant opens." He began to continue with an explanation, and I cut him off with another sharp smile and asserted, "I. un. der. stand."
Nowhere in the rules or regulations does it state that a crew member with privileges has to wait half an hour before they are allowed to enter the restaurant. If I'm allowed to eat there, I should be free to eat whenever I want. The manager wanted to humiliate me, I am sure of it. Why? I have a few theories. A. I am a woman and some men get off on making a woman feel small. B. I am a crewmember under his position, and belittling those under him makes him feel good. C. Not wanting to admit that he was wrong in thinking that I was breaking the rules, he wanted to make sure he still held the power. Whatever the reason was, two can play at that game. I am now a Libra-Scorpio. Watch out. I finished my meal, barely able to swallow the food, my throat was tight with anger. I left the table and approached the manager, and said, "an email has been sent to your staff with names and pictures of who is allowed to eat here, so you should know." He told me that I was wrong. I told him that I was not wrong, because one of his waiters had already learned who I am through looking at that email. "Let me check..." the manager said. He walked over to a booth and picked up a folder and carelessly said, "this contains information on the last cast, not your cast." By this time, I'd had it with trying to play fair. "No. Open the folder and turn the pages and you will find my name and picture." He did. Did he find them? OF COURSE! A simple apology for making me feel like a second-class citizen or an admission that he was wrong would have sufficed. Instead, he tried to save face, and said, "yes, but, some cast come in who are not supposed to," (which is absolutely untrue) and I snapped, "well, all the people who can eat in here are in that folder, so..." and I stopped myself from screaming, "DO YOUR JOB PROPERLY!" I just quickly said, "thank you," and turned to walk away before he could defend himself anymore.
Call it astrological transitions, call it aging, or call it just plain arrogance, but I am tired of people assuming that, because I happen to be an attractive dancer, I am easily manipulated and am not smart enough to battle my way through such tactics. If there is one thing the ship is teaching me about myself as a person, it is that I have the ability to communicate what I want and how I feel with integrity, which is much more productive than mere complaining or whining. I may not be there yet, at the point where I can aways stand up for myself with confidence, but I am well on my way.
It has not been all temper-tantrums, by any means. I am incredibly glad to be having this experience, where I wake up in a new city every day, am making enough money for weekly massages, missing out on October snow in NY, and playing a dream-role in a fantastic production of a really fun show. I've taken to saying that, to every yin, there must be a yang. To every tantrum, there must be a joyous laugh. There are joy-filled nights and days of laughter in abundance in this life upon the sea that I am living. Like the time the hotel manager made an eloquent speech on opening night and moved me to tears, and the time I jumped off a mountain on the island of Capri, and the time I ate a pizza pie all to myself in Italy's first ever pizzeria. Ship life cannot be explained to those who have never lived it. It is a reality unto itself, and like real-life, has its ups and its downs. For every patronising staff member, there are ten others who are delightful. I mentioned to one of the nicest officers at the crew Halloween party that there are some very mean people working on the ship, and thanked him for always treating the cast so well. He told me that one must always surround themselves with good, kind people. I know that I already am surrounded by good, kind people here, and together we have gotten through some rocky nights and lived the dream onstage next to each other. We have 7 more months of tantrums and living the dream upon us. I hope that this ship can contain all of the drama to come!
