15. Swapping urine?

There was no warning. Before we sailed that day with all twelve hundred new passengers onboard, Canadian customs came onboard to drug test the ship's company. I was standing in my underwear, applying a second coat of mascara when the door opened and an Alsatian dog pads in the door. Yes, thats right. I real, live K9, in my cabin. It looks at me briefly before straining from its lead and sniffing under the writing desk. Animals are not allowed on the ship. Static pose, mascara still in hand, I am joined by the figure of a lady. No ordinary lady, a very large one. Her nostrils are like looking into a double barrelled shot gun. She gave the cabin the once over. The situation is bizarre. The room has become much darker since she entered the room, like a cloud on a summers day that causes a sudden chill.

I’m too shocked to ask what’s going on. Near sitting in the sink at this point, the lady squashes in, leaning over to open the bathroom door. A few inches of the lead extra and the dog enters into the shower. No one spoke. The large lady turns awkwardly. I tuck my bare legs up as she turns to leave. The dog stops and sniffs at me. Its hair is longer than your usual Alsatian and his eyes are big and sad like. He has the face of a human. I look down my raised shins at him before he follows his master out the door.

I arrived at work full of nervous energy. Having sort of cleansed myself with the phone call home, the few hours off the ship, I was almost happy by the time I arrived at work. The mess had been long since cleared away and Cruz, the assistant bar tender was on duty. Cruz is a Philippine boy/man? Who knows, they all look so young. I know that he is old enough to have a son who is five years old that he hasn’t seen in fourteen months and a wife that he hasn’t seen in two years. They both work on different cruise ships and do nine-month contracts with the option to extend their contract. Cruz has now been onboard for fourteen months and like Neil he is going home this Saturday. I went about preparing my tray for the evening’s session while telling Cruz about the dog in the cabin.

Up on deck seven, I collect the garnish tray, fill up the bowls of ‘munchies’ or ‘things to nibble on’ and cover them in plastic film. This is the same routine that we follow every day. I fold over the page on my little notepad and start a fresh page so I can write down the names and cabin numbers of the passengers who will frequent the lounge this cruise. With everything I do, I am aware of the Photo Gallery just round the corner which will not open today. No photogrpahs to sell on the first day of a new cruise so, the only chance I will get to see Neil is if he comes to the crew bar tonight.

Back from Garnish trip, Cruz hands me a piece of paper. It's from Canadian authority listing two hundred crew that have to take part in random drug testing on deck three next by the Medical Centre. I look down the list. Names from each department are highlighted. Cruz and I are the only two from our lounge that are picked.

As soon as Jo and Ian arrive at work, we make our way down to where the testing is taking place. It didn’t mention what kind of testing. I hope to god its not blood. The corridor is packed with crew from all over ship, the Galley, Officers, Waiters and Stateroom Stewards are amongst Sailors and laundry boys, we’re all here for the same reason.

It hadn’t occurred to me that drugs would be a problem on the ship. On the other hand, if we were all breathalysed today, about sixty percent of us would be going home this afternoon. The big black lady from my cabin is sitting about two feet back from a small table, about as close as she can get. She is handing out little plastic specimen bottles and tissues to each crewmember.

The line is moving very slowly. Some of the waiters are getting edgy up front and start to fool around, pushing each other around. Sue soon pulls them into line. She is walking the line and checking off names from a list. She reaches me and crosses my name off.
“How you doing Ginny?” asks Sue.
The question took me by surprise. Sue wasn’t one for conversation, especially with a bar steward. She always hung around with the Pursers and senior officers.
“Fine thanks,” I reply, not looking at her. She is standing in front of me in the tight corridor with her clipboard held to her chest.
“This, on top of turnaround is a bloody nightmare,” she says, indicating to the line of crew squashed up in the hallway. “They won’t let us sail until they’ve checked everyone’s urine,” she went on.
“Twenty-eight crew went home this morning and only twenty-five came on to replace them," she said, how the fuck do they figure these things out?” she added.
I decide that Sue isn’t really talking to me, but just venting her frustrations and has chosen me to listen.
“You’re shagging Jason Kneele aren’t you?” asks Sue, from out of the blue.
“Who’s he?” I ask quickly, wanting to clear up any rumours before they begin.
“The photog, Jason Kneele, everyone calls him Neil, your shagging him aren’t you?”
“Well, yes, I am seeing Neil if that’s what you mean," I agree, not wanting to put myself in the same boat as the ‘Fendi slappers.’ How come I didn’t know his name was Jason?
“Well maybe you’ve found a good one there, but I doubt it, they’re all the same," she said. "The other photog didn’t turn up today for the handover, so it looks like he’s got the extension that he asked for.”
“Neil asked for an extension?” I ask, puzzled. He’d never mentioned to me that he wanted to stay longer.
“I wonder how many crew will be going home today?” she says, ignoring me and pulling the pen out of her clip board and sliding along the bulkhead, around the crew to where the new arrivals are.
More and more people come in the door until no more can fit in and the queue extends to the other side of the door. Someone passes back plastic cups of water for us all to drink.
I wonder to myself why Neil asked for an extension. A little light is ignited in my soul as I realise that maybe he wants to stay with me after all.

Finally, it’s my turn. A lady leads me into the bathroom where I sit on the toilet and angle the plastic bottle. I just can’t pee. It feels like I’ve been in there forever when the lady asks if everything is okay. I automatically wipe down the toilet seat for any tell tale hairs and come out. I show her the empty bottle. She tells me not to worry and reassures me that I’m not the only one. I am told to wait outside for a few minutes and drink more water. I sit down behind the big black lady and wait.

The crowd is thinning and then it’s Greg’s turn. He’s bright and jokey, chatting up the lady as she hands him the plastic bottle. He sees me and lifts the bottle up and says cheers. The lady asks me if I’m ready, I tell her I think so. Greg takes a long time, but finally appears and hands over his full bottle in a plastic bag. He slaps me on the behind as he walks past grinning like an idiot. Within two minutes I have resurfaced, given my name and am heading back to work. Jo doesn’t know how long the drug testing is going to take, so I take a detour and go to my cabin for a sneaky cigarette. On the way, I wonder if Greg was drunk.

Vanessa is in the cabin. I sit down in silence and put the television on before lighting a cigarette. Vanessa is shaving her legs in the sink with one of my disposable razors. The heat in the cabin is obvious after just a few minutes, the combination of the steam from the sink, the television and the cabin light being on, all at the same time, turns the cabin into an oven. I draw on my cigarette and lie back and think about the whole drug-testing thing and how chatty Sue had been and the news that Neil is Jason and is staying on the ship without even mentioning to me that he had asked for an extension. And finally, what had gotten into Greg. Was nothing consistent on this ship? I miss consistency and I miss having someone close and someone to talk to and snuggle and kiss. I stub my cigarette out hoping it will help cool things down. I get up and stand behind Vanessa and apply another coat of lipstick. I feel uncomfortable being in the cabin with her. Part of me wants to apologise, but I stop myself.
“So how come you didn’t speak to me in the bar today?” asked Vanessa, still shaving.
“Didn’t see you,” I reply, smacking my lips together. I slide the lid back on my lipstick and pull a few strands of hair from behind my ears. I wasn’t nearly as confident as I was pretending to be. My stomach was in knotts at the prospect of another confrontation. Anyway, how could she even ask why I hadn’t spoken to her, was her memory that bad?
“Bye,” I say, and leave for work.
I did wanted to tell her all about Sue and what she had said about Neil, who is Jason, the dog in the cabin and everything else that’s been going on, but I’m not that desperate, I can wait to see Debra and Allison tonight down the crew bar.

First night in the Lounge is usually busy with people checking out the ship and its facilities. Many people just stand at the grand entrance to the lounge, listen to the music and decide whether or not they will come here for pre-dinner cocktails the next night. After the first sitting of passengers go for dinner the lounge becomes quite again. With no one to play for, Dennis, the musician takes a break and turns up the background music. We are in the back pantry when Jo coarsely informs Cruz that he has ‘passed the piss test’. Ian tells us that he was glad it wasn’t him because he would have defiantly failed. Jo comes over to where I’m standing, there is a familiar stagger as she moves and her breath stinks of alcohol.
“But yours say's you’ve got the clap,” she says, breaking into a raucous laugh.
Ian rolls his eyes and walks out. Cruz asks Jo what the clap is. She instantly stops laughing and glares at him. How dare he spoil her moment?
I grab the piece of paper nervously off the side and see that I too have passed. There are no other names on the list, just Cruz and mine. Does that mean that we are the only ones who passed?

Paul bursts in the pantry door and closes it slowly and deliberately behind him. He is dressed for work.
“You’ll never guess, he said. His face is aglow with excitement, it’s too awful to even describe.
I stood by the door ignoring him and looked at the new work schedule. This is our second last week in Alaska and I desperately want to go ashore in Ketchikan. I see that Jo has given me four hours off in Juneau….
“He’s gone, off, finished, screwed, Paul is enthusing at Jo.
Jo takes the opportunity to pour herself and Paul a drink. There doesn’t have to be a special occasion.
Jo is neither happy nor unhappy about the news that Paul has brought.
“It happens all the time.” she said, to Paul.
I try to understand what they’re talking about without appearing too interested. Its too suspicious for me to still be reading the work schedule, so I look for something else to do.
“Well I can’t say I’m sorry, said Paul, sucking on his straw. You know he was Gay don’t you, but he was so fucking uptight. Another couple of weeks though and I would have slipped in there….”
“Okay okay, said Jo, lifting her glass up and indicating him to stop. "Too much description for me."
The pantry door is opened again, this time it's Andrew. Jo and Paul nearly collide in the attempt to get rid of their drinks down the sink. Jo stands up as best she can and wobbles over to Andrew. Her hair is backcombed high on her head today, dark roots showing. Never without bright pink lipstick and dramatically painted liquid liner eyes she plants a kiss on Andrews cheek leaving a smudge of frosty pink behind. Andrew looks furious.
“Ginny, Paul, he says, calmly and without looking at us, get out will you?”
We slip out the pantry door and close it behind us. Cruz is behind the bar and Ian is bent down fixing his tie in the mirror under the bar counter. We all turn and look at each other as the voices from the pantry start to shout. Paul hangs around nervously not wanting to miss anything yet afraid of being caught still hanging about by Andrew. He should definately be at work by now, not loitering in our lounge. I didn’t have to wonder for long who he and Jo had been talking about.
Chris, one of the dining-room stewards walked past. He sees us standing in the emptiness of the bar and comes over.
“You erd bout Greg av ya?” he asked, in a strong cockney accent.
Paul is about to speak when the Steward continues telling us that that Greg has been sent home, he failed the drug test.
Cruz carried on working. Ian says again that he’s lucky it wasn’t him that was tested and Paul is standing annoyed that someone else had delivered his news. I’m shocked. What kind of drug was Greg taking and where would he get them from anyway? Chris tells us that he doesn’t know any more details except that apparently Greg had tried to pass off someone else’s pee for his own.
Paul tells us he’s leaving and does. No one acknowledges his departure. Chris nods his head in the direction of the raised voices. "Whose in there?" he mimes, pointing to the closed door. Ian whispers loudly back that its Jo and Andrew. On that note, Chris tells us that he’d better go and that he’s already late for work. I suspect its more the risk of being caught chatting and getting shot in the crossfire.
“I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” he says, lifting his hand to say goodbye and falling back into step.
I can’t believe it. Greg doesn’t take drugs. He’s far too vain and healthy to do anything that would harm his health. The voices in the pantry are getting louder. Luckily there is no one around except Dennis the musician who is sitting quietly in the corner with his Martini. Ian turns the background music down a notch.

We all hover around the bar, as near to the access door to the pantry as we can. From here we can hear everything quite clearly.
“I’m sick of it Jo,” screamed Andrew. I can imagine that his round face is bright red.
“Don’t be silly Andy, you know I’ll stop, you know me,” says Jo. It sounds like she may be crying or trying to.
Two couples walk along the corridor each of them are arm in arm. They stop and look in the empty bar. I can see they are pondering over whether to come in or not.
“I worked hard to get where I am Jo. You’re supposed to care about me, but you’re the only one on this fucking ship that is compromising my position. Any other bar tender would have been sent home by now, I cant cover your arse anymore Jo, this is the last time," he yells, this time slamming his hand down on something. Jo is crying and the voices die down. I go over and speak to the passengers as they enter the lounge. I try and seat them as far away as possible from the noise, but they decide to sit right at the bar. Cruz leaves the door and goes over to place napkins down in front of each passenger. I signal to Dennis to turn the lounge music up but he’s fallen asleep in the corner.
“Get that fucking bottle out of your hand, he screams, he sounds like he’s struggling.
Jo is groaning, her words are staggered and tight.
All of a sudden the pantry door opens and we all jump as Andrew steps out. Without acknowledging us, he adjusts his jacket as he leaves.

Andrew has disappeared round the corner when there is a huge crash from the pantry. Ian and I rush over to the pantry door, Andrew is back and behind us. The noise must have reached all the way down to the elevators. Cruz is told to ring the medical centre. Jo is laying on the floor. It looks like she has fallen backwards and has taken a tray of glasses with her. She is conscious and staring at us. The next half an hour goes by in slow motion. Andrew is with her. She doesn’t seem to be aware of what has happened and she doesn’t seem to be in pain. The doctor comes and orders a stretcher. The passengers order scotch on the rocks. The stretcher comes and Jo is lifted up by two sailors and is turned over onto her front. There are large pieces of glass sticking out of her back and blood is beginning to seep through her blue jacket and down the sleeve of her crisp white shirt onto her Fendi bag that is lying on the floor. Andrew tells me to pick up the bag. I bend down next to Jo and pick it up. She is either dead or has passed out on the stretcher. Her blonde hair is still high on her head, her face which is facing down, is squashed uncomfortably to the side.

When they lifted Jo up in the stretcher and out of the pantry, the corridors were already filling up with the passengers who had just finished dinner. Mary, the nurse tells me to get them out of the way. I walked ahead asking passengers to please move out of the way explaining to them that we had a patient to take the medical centre. There were two passengers in the lift. I asked them to free the lift, they did, but weren’t happy about it even though they could see Jo lying on the stretcher covered in blood.
“Quickly,” the Doctor urged to the passengers as they slowly left the elevator. We arrived at the medical centre and after a quick examination the doctor told Andrew that they would have to get Jo ashore and to a hospital. Some of the glass had gone quite deep, but he reassured Andrew that she was going to be okay. I stood outside the examination room holding Jo’s Fendi bag and start to cry. I don’t know why or where it came from.

I signalled to Andrew, who is still with the Doctor that I am leaving the bag on the seat for him to pick up. I walked past the room where Jo is lying. Her eyes are now open, one of the nurses is talking to her while another one is giving her an injection in the bum. Her eyes flicker in my direction. I smile at her and wave. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.