Tales from the Bowels: 70,000 Tons of Metal

This boat goes from zero to full scale open air in a matter of hours.

While cruisers were partying on the beach, doing shots and taking amazing group photos, I was with head merch bitch (her words!) Robin and "other" Lyndsey, double checking spreadsheets. As people took their first drinks, ready to get silly, we counted in merch.  When bands raged above us, we ran like crazy people through the merch line, trying to get everyone in and out as fast as possible.  For the second year in a row, I agreed to spend my cruise week in the bowels of the ship, selling shirts to all the fine attendees.  Two things though: it's a LOT of work.  We walk an average of seven miles A DAY just up and down the merch stand (100 ft or so) AND it's the best time I could ask for.

Fly in day.
I've argued that my role on the boat is "not at all glam."  I eat food standing up and probably get gangrene, jesus.  One of our crew pipes in "Come on, it's a little glam."  The pool deck stage manager pipes in "Shut up, it's totally glamorous."  Alright, you win.   What's better than spending a week with your family.  Yeah, family.  Spend five days with a bunch of people in close quarters- crew, fans, bands, etc. and they become your family.  It's my second year with the majority of the crew, most of whom I've kept up with throughout the year.  Fly in day is all bear hugs and cheek kisses.  I don't even miss the beach party.  Ok, maybe a little, but I got to eat some delicious chicken. Family.  That's how this feels already, and I haven't seen some of these people in 365 days.

Day One:
Six AM call.  Those stages have to be built, backlines installed, lighting rigs programmed, merch needs to be counted in and displays made.  It's a game of hurry up and wait, because customs brings their dogs on what seems like their own schedule.  I run around snapping pics, a few of which end up on the 70,000 Tons social networking sites!  Cool.  Full disclosure: I came into this week dealing with some unexpected personal shit, so any alternative to "sitting on the couch being sad" seems great.  But this is just the beginning.

Although we don't get to do the super hilarious muster drill or start drinking the second we step foot on broad (boat people joke!), day one is kind of fun for me.  A lot of sitting and waiting, but once things start happening...160 boxes arrive all at once and bands begin to check in simultaneously.  We've got to get all this stuff sorted, counted, organized and displayed.  I'm a little anal retentive, so organizing is totally fun. Plus, old friends come in to drop off merch, it's like a mini-reunion.

I think we got on the boat at 8 am, roughly, and were done around midnight, maybe?  It's a lot of work, right?  No one sees this part because it's positively un-glamorous.

100 feet, give or take, transformed

The merch girls travel in a pack and since 2/3 of us are from Florida, we headed to watch Obituary tear it up.  After living in MD for a year, there's something comforting about familiar, tan Florida faces.  And of course, Obituary plays some of my favorite songs.  Florida stompin' on the side stage, completely exhausted.  And because we haven't seen fresh air/the sun/the sky since we boarded over the windows, we check out Finntroll on the pool deck.  The pool deck is magical.  Everything that happens out there is better because it happens with people in hot tubs, lounging in the pool, stretched out on chairs, plus that amazing sea breezeeeee.  I'm not big on folk metal, but it's the perfect background for speaking broken Spanglish with a friend while sipping a beer, wind whipping my hair.  So much of this kind of experience is just that- the experience and atmosphere.  I want to soak it all up while I can.

Day Two:
The coolest things about the boat, I can't put into words.  Despite the fact that day two is a 14 hour punisher, ten miles walked, feet morphed into cloven hooves, I had ahuge grin on my face all day.  People camped out, still drunk from karaoke as early as 6 am.  When we arrived at 7:30, a line stretched past the super cool art exhibit, into the place where they sell official cruise photos.   7:59: Take a deep breath.  8:00 am: Chaos.

It's non-stop.  All night. 8 am- 10 pm and it just never really gave up.  The line was slow, because people want a ton of things, we only have so many registers,everyone's gotta try shit on and no one wants to miss ANYTHING.  Yes, we know it's boring.  We're sorry.  We've tried different ways of organizing and this is the most effective.  I'm sorry you waited three hours, but the 300 people in front of you collectively forget their sizes and needed to try on a work shirt, because they run big you know.  And every European needs to check our sizes because American sizes run sooo big. Sorry about that.  Hopefully our witty toilet banter and good looks amused some people.  (Heh heh, pats self on back.)

Our security dude- it was his first year- had a great time keeping people occupied.  And- here's one of the cool things about the boat- this is just some older gentleman, working on a boat full of people that he'd likely ignore in his daily life, full of bands he's never heard of and he had a blast.  I overhead snippets of his conversations.  Day two was him learning about where people were from, what bands they liked, how mosh pits worked, etc.  Stuff you've been trying to explain to your family forever but they just don't get it, or care.  By days three and four, our morning security guard was beaming with pride, telling everyone that he'd learned to stay out of mosh pits, and how we were like a big family.  I felt a little proud too.

My one moment of cool the whole week. 

Tuesday night's party night.  While everyone wants to jet off for excursions in Mexico we know better.  We just wanted to sleep in, a few extra precious hours.  Watching Carcass the first time in the Chorus Line was a highlight for me, 100%.  Karaoke ridiculous-ness is always a blast.  How cool is it to see band folks let their hair down, so to speak, to sing ridiculous lounge music? Russel Allen's "California Love" had everyone shaking their asses and laughing.  I taught our production manager the Cha-Cha Slide, which, despite telling you how to do it in the lyrics, was difficult when drunk.  Sure, friends visit us when we're in the bowels and we're face to face with people all day, but it's so nice to be able to sit down with some of our crew and just be.  Watch Robin sing karaoke, watch drunken hook ups.  It's all in good fun.

Day Three:
Water.  Relaxation.  My first shower since...I don't remember when.  The merch crew spent the first hour or so in the hot tub.  Those jets on my feet are pretty much heaven.  But still, we're in Mexico, so might as well look around.  The weather is beautiful and it's a short $2 bus ride to...what we were wrongly told was Fisherman's Village.  I don't know where the hell we were, but it was beautiful.

The people who took this can't zoom, but the color of the water is better than our dumb faces anyhow.

It was so nice to be weightless for a while.  After walking nearly ten miles the first day, it's nice to just float and bullshit about bands we wanted to see.  This is why I don't mind giving up my week to the dungeon, frankly, I've seen most of the bands and the rest don't interest me too much.  If we can, we can duck out for 5-10 minutes to catch a band.  I remember watching two Pungent Stench songs on the pool deck- a great primer for their MDF set, and "Spiritual Healing" by Death to All.  Ah, perfect.

But while everyone is climbing ruins and drinking bottomless tequila, we grab our requisite tacky souvenirs and head back to the boat.  Showers and a sit down meal are more important, at this point, than another hour on the beach.   We're so crazy busy that we usually order from the dining room and pick at it while we work.  Those few sit down meals, where we sit and eat like humans and talk about life are some of my favorite moments on the boat.  Sure, we signed on for a job but we're friends and it's nice to have that moment of decompression.  Oh, and another set of watching Carcass side stage, only this time on that magical pool deck.

Day Four:
This is another marathon, but for different reasons.  Selling for a few hours, then counting out everything, paying bands, tearing down displays, recording numbers, updating spreadsheets and packaging up and moving everything out of the room.  With the normal dining room staff breathing down our necks.  Despite someone telling another merch girl we don't "look busy" that day, I assure you it's crazy.  Bands constantly coming in, doing crazy math with exhausted brains, blah. Oh, and add a storm so bad we had to close the pool deck stage.  The crew worked endlessly to pull in all the gear and reschedule everyone's performance.  Even our register girl, who lives on the boat was getting seasick.  I had a CODE GREEN and had to run to throw up.

But we finished in time for Robin to drag me to Massacre.  I gotta say, I've never been a fan but I'm impressed with the new line up.  I even got in the pit and threw down Florida style before I remembered I was exhausted and went back to nursing my beer. (Secret merch benefit: don't eat or sleep enough, be completely brain dead and two beers will give you a solid buzz.) I watched Symphony X perform the Odyssey in its entirety.  

The boat is a blur, really.  It's so weird, because it's not a "real" place- just a floating, week-long fest, but it's somewhere I feel very at home, very comfortable (minus the barf) and very loved.  I sat up the whole last night (was on 30+ hours awake when I boarded my flight) just soaking in the atmosphere.  For one week, people from all over the world are called on this pilgrimage because we feel called by the music.  But for one week, we're transformed.  No borders, no politics, no drama (well, I am stuck in a hole, so maybe there's drama?), no heartbreak, no pain, just a big metal family.  Maybe I'm just a sucker for camaraderie.  Maybe my "metal family" is childish.  I don't even think it exists when we dock.  Maybe an adult shouldn't feel at home on a boat of 2,000 strangers.

It's the little things, like Thursday's costume party, or hanging out with the hospitality girls stuck working overnight, or the endless stream of inside jokes, or the smiles I got for attempting bad Spanish, or the endless cheek kisses from new and old friends, or your Twitter friend showing up with Red Bulls when you're two seconds from just taking a nap in the shirts.  But for one week, I get to exist in the most captivating, friendly and supportive atmosphere I can imagine.  I will happily give another week to sell shirts to you all, you have no idea what you do for me. We'll be back next year, bigger and better! <3