Not a Drill

From our earliest childhood we drill.  No, not for oil.  But we get up from our little desks, file out calmly and proceed to the designated area.  The alarm equipment is tested, the fire wardens check all the rooms to ensure everyone has left their rooms, and no stragglers were dilly-dallying in the restrooms.  Radio and television stations test their equipment on a regular basis, weekly for some types, monthly for others.  The Emergency Broadcast System began in 1963, but as of 1994 is called the Emergency Alert System.  As an adult now when the fire drill occurs, I get up from my little desk, move calmly to the hallway with my colleagues where we listen to the ear-piercing alarm until the building people give us the all-clear. 

At my company we also have regular drills to test our readiness should there be any need to respond to an emergency.  We try to simulate real life situations so that if an actual emergency were to occur, we would be prepared, because we had already simulated it -- as best we could.

People who enjoy cruises know the fun of the muster drill, where all passengers and crew report to their designated locations with lifejackets before the ship is permitted to leave port.  Feeling dorky in the orange lifejacket and listening to the locations to be used in an emergency evacuation may sound pretty dull.  After all, no one ever expects an emergency.

But what happens when the lights and A/C go off  unexpectedly?  After a bit an alarm sounds.  The thought occurs, is this an actual emergency or just another drill for the crew?  So, open the door to the cabin.  Uh-oh.  There is smoke in the hallway.  Not a lot of smoke, but it's definitely smoke.  No one needs to say, "get your medications and passport and be prepared to evacuate the ship."  Then on the loudspeaker, instructions to stay in the cabin until further notice.  Further notice arrives about one minute later in the form of a uniformed crew member saying to get off the ship, gangway is on deck three.  The other crew members direct passengers through the halls to reach the proper stairwells to deck three (fire doors have been closed).

So we left everything behind except the most essential of the essentials.  I put on the most practical clothing I could think of, because somehow I knew we were not getting back on the ship.  What started at 9:00 a.m. did not end until 4:30 the next morning, finally arriving in Miami at a hotel with only the clothes we were wearing and the essentials I gathered. 

We learned somewhere along the way there had been an explosion and two fires, but more tragically, three people died.  The cruise people handled everything with great professionalism and compassion.  They provided water almost immediately once we were outside.  Everyone remained calm --except one passenger who wanted to fight, as though that would help -- and waited.  Arrangements for food and shelter were made relatively fast.  Buses arrived to carry us to the ferry terminal, what some people referred to as the warehouse, where there were bathrooms, chairs and a TV.  People were able to roam around, visit and stretch their legs.  No air conditioning, but a few fans circulated the air in the tropical climate as the waiting continued.  Another cruise ship sent over sandwiches, cookies, chicken strips, apples, bananas, and juice.     

Finally, the plans came together.  Chartered jets arrived to start taking passengers to Miami.  With that many people it was impossible to cram them all onto one flight.  The last group stayed over in hotels on the island before being flown back to Miami.

 I was really tired when we were going through customs in Miami after the four-hour flight wearing the same clothes I'd had on for an extremely long time.  We arrived with no toiletries, clothes, shoes, comb, or any of the other ordinary items needed for another human to be close to us.  However, once we arrived at the hotel all we had to do was tell them our names and they gave us our room keys, along with a gift bag containing toothbrushes, toothpaste and deodorant.  The next morning we stumbled downstairs to a breakfast buffet, compliments of the cruise line.  Immediately thereafter we struck out for a store to get a change of clothes and make our plans to get back home.

So what's the bottom line?  I cannot thank the cruise people enough for their kindness and concern for our well-being.  They obviously had thought through the "what-ifs" before this event actually happened.  The president and COO flew to the island and personally shook the hand of each one of us as we were leaving for Miami.  He apologized to each one of us and said he was sorry.  That by itself would not fix anything, but it goes a long way in today's world of corporations denying any responsibility for wrongdoing.  I appreciated it.  I will definitely cruise with this group again.  I love them more than I did before. 

I also appreciated the compassion shown by everyone at the hotel.  They wanted to make our stay as pleasant as possible, knowing what we had just been through.  Some of the people in our group were a bit traumatized at watching the rescue people performing CPR on one of the guys who ultimately did not make it.  And many of the folks are a bit elderly and this experience was quite difficult for them physically.

I'm glad we practice for emergencies such as this.  There was no anxiety or worry about what to do.  It was simply a matter of following the instructions we learned during the drill.