inopportune - adjective - something happening at a poorly timed, unsuitable, or inconvenient moment. (Dictionary.com)
The funny thing about life is that no matter how well a lubricated engine may be running, a wrench can fall into the mechanism at any time and cause rod knock, the inopportune cessation of forward motion, the immediate end to all "best-laid plans of mice, men," and a sixty-seven-year-old retired woman.
For those of you who have been following the progress of my 115-day world cruise via this blog, you might have noticed that the piece about Bali was my last entry, which was a couple of weeks ago. Somewhere between March 10th, when the initial symptom of congested sinuses appeared and my diagnosis of pneumonia (so much for the vaccine) ten days later, the wrench fell and the trajectory of my trip changed radically. My illness most likely resulted from lack of sleep (my bed was right above a drum set in one of the late-night lounges) and the bacteria-infested HVAC system onboard that my fellow passengers felt comfortable enough to cough directly into. Unfortunately, I spent about five hours over five days and six thousand dollars charged to my credit card in the medical center of the Coral Princess, lapping up intravenously fed antibiotics while occasionally noticing the changes of scenery from out of a porthole by the hospital bed. Portions of Kuala Lumpur (the lackluster terminal at the port), Penang (a beautiful, mountainous city not unlike Rio), Singapore (a view of Korean cruise ship), Ko Samui (Thailand's Caribbean), and Bangkok (too far inland to be seen from my viewpoint). As the generic potion being fed was doing more harm than good to my body (it gave me heart palpitations and minor convulsions), I was forced to make a decision between two potentially hazardous options: 1. Be ferried and admitted into the nearest hospital in Bangkok 2. Have my daughter find me a flight out of Bangkok to L.A. As the first was so much more risky than the second, I went with the second as there was no way I was going to be left alone in a Thai hospital teaming with way more lethal illnesses like malaria than basic pneumonia. Although the ship's doctor did not agree with my choice, I signed the right waver thereby putting my life into my own hands, which is where it should have been anyway considering the circumstances.
The next day, I found myself at the mercy of an Uber driver, a young Thai woman and her sleeping child who lay shotgun in the front seat. The driver did not speak much English but understood where she was taking me, nearly 1.5 hours from the port. Averaging 40 KPH over the speed limit, she got me to the airport (with a name way too long to mention or pronounce) forty minutes later. Needless to say, anything worth seeing sped by so fast that I could only make out blurred outlines of tropical swamp land, warehouses, innumerable trucks, and a rest stop of all American fast food restaurants. Only the signage reflected an Asian country. The airport was chaotic: six lanes of traffic, single cars stopping to unload mid-flow in any one of the lanes, a departures terminal that looked like a string of about four Costcos put together, and no curbside porters. Just carts and chaos. My driver lugged my one huge suitcase from 1986 onto a chart, and once inside, I wheeled it in and out of towering Asian icons until I found the United Airlines counter in row G. Luckily, I had spent the big bucks to buy a premium ticket, which included a wheelchair, a true lifesaver as my gate was probably about a mile from the check-in counter. The trek on foot would have killed me. To make a long story somewhat shorter, I was wheeled right onto the plane which first flew to Hong Kong (another port that I was scheduled to visit on the cruise) and then to L.A., some twenty hours later. I had not been as happy to be on American soil since 1976 after returning from a month-long concert tour of Communist Poland.
So my number-one-bucket-list dream trip went from the sublime to the virulent within a matter of days. What's left is a litany of insurance forms to file that will hopefully result in a partial refund and many more antibiotics to take as I recline in my bed, virtually quarantined for the next three weeks. At least I'm not dead...yet. Either way, I will take with me more than one vintage suitcase of wonderful memories of around 23 exotic ports of perfection and about four new life-long friends. Priceless.
Do I have any regrets? No. Would I do things differently if I had the chance? Yes. I would spend a few thousand more and reserve a room with a balcony so that I could have peace, quiet, and access to fresh air. And by the way, I don't recommend that you take a Princess cruise in the near future unless you have an immune system made of steel. Just sayin'.
#travel, #PrincessCruises, #pneumonia, #Bangkok, #blog, #blogger, #personal essay
