Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Day X? Time Space Continuum

My sea experience is all a blur of place and time; the minutes, hours, and days are becoming more difficult to discriminate. Only the chiming of the ship's clock reminds me of the hour (and half hour).

When ship's business and the needs of the Captain are met, I am able to spend time in the spartan crew quarters. Notice my assigned crew ID number, which also was tattood on my forearm upon initial boarding of Royal Eagle. My ID is a constant reminder of the ship's social political hierarchy. At night, exactly on the hour, I abruptly awake and recite "Sir, 1023395, ready and able to serve".

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