Hi, folks—I know the steamboating season is over for now, but I’m remembering with great fondness some of the adventures of this past year. The guys in this story are very special to me. Hope you enjoy it!
Hat Trick
One of the things I’ve discovered about myself this season is that I am gullible. Fortunately, I chose my friends on the boat well. Yes, I have both a target and a chain on my back—and nobody yanked that chain harder than the guys in engineering. But nobody treated me with as much respect when it counted, either.
I’ve written before about my special relationship with the guys in engineering. They can fix anything. They have to be innovative, because they need to know how things work, and how materials work—what will bond together, what materials are on hand. They have to be able to fix things while in the middle of the river, with limited resources—everything from someone’s stapler to the vacuum pump on the engine. There will never be enough money to do it with. And we are talking about technology that not many people know much about anymore. They are some of the most practical people you will ever meet. Sometimes the simplest solutions are right in front of you, but your complicated thinking will get in the way. They’ll plow through that, and get it done before you’ve finished defining the problem. They are hardworking, honest guys.
I knew I needed to learn more about how the engine worked, if I ever were to realize my goal of becoming riverlorian. In my family, knowing about cars involved being able to drive the car to the garage to get the oil changed. This engine seemed a little more complicated than a car engine of my youth. I’d done a fair amount of reading about steam engines, and it had gotten me not very far. I needed to see this more three-dimensionally. I went down to the engine room early on and introduced myself. Mostly, the reaction was skeptical, but polite.
My persistence paid off. Before long, the guys began to accept my presence on the bench in engineering. They really didn’t believe that I would ever "get" it; but they were willing to humor me. Eventually, I think, they even looked forward to my visits—especially when I began to bring things like cookies from the bakery in Paducah and Graeter’s ice cream from Cincinnati. Yes, they teased me mercilessly, but I thought I had the upper hand. I was wrong.
Delta Queen engineers are very protective of their hats. I don’t know why, and I certainly didn’t know this when I came aboard in April. They do not give them away. Not ever. Not to anyone. If you get one, you must be a god. So when Alan Bates, revered naval architect and author, came on board to talk about steamboats on one of our first trips, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I asked the guys to give him a hat. Now, one of Captain Bates’ great books is The Engineroom Cyclopedium. I was down in the engineroom one day when the guys were leafing through it. I told them that they should give Captain Bates a hat. They said they had never heard of him; why would they give him a hat? Exasperated, I said, He wrote the book you are looking at! Oh, this is a great book! they said, but we don’t give anyone our hats. I told the guys that Captain Bates was on board, and it was a great opportunity for them to honor a luminary. No. We argued back and forth. Now, it was getting clear that the agenda had switched to "Let’s tease Mary," one of the chief sources of amusement in the engineroom.
Later that evening, while I was serving drinks in the Orleans Room at dinner, a representation of the engineering department showed up in the Mark Twain service bar. They agreed that I might have a hat, if we could agree on a price. I explained that I was working, and did not have time to negotiate. (I had some idea of what the price would purport to be, although I knew that these guys were only joking). Later, they showed up again, with a hat. Again, they wanted to negotiate, and I told them it was not the time. But they gave me the hat anyway (a tactical error), with negotiations to resume the next day. I delivered the hat to Captain Bates. He realized the value, and promptly hid it. This should have told me something right there.
I begin to formulate a plan to outsmart the guys—after all, one woman should be able to outsmart a bunch of men, right? Early the next morning, I found Chief Harold. I told him the little plot his guys had cooked up, and my idea to outsmart them. I asked him what price he would like for the hat. He said he would like an autographed copy of The Engineroom Cyclopedium. No problem. I found Captain Bates, and the book was delivered. Later that day, the guys found me to begin negotiations for the price of the hat. I told them that the price had already been paid—just ask the chief. They were astounded. I explained that I am a woman, and that it was not all that difficult for me to outflank a bunch of men. This was probably not wise.
Later in the season, I told this story to Mike, an engineer of ours who had just returned after a leave of absence. What a nice guy! I didn’t know him all that well yet, but he seemed very sweet. We were just chatting on the bow, and it was such a funny story, so I told it to him. Why not?
The day after I told Mike the hat story, a passenger who shall remain nameless (Roger) and his wife were aboard. They both had a good sense of humor. This guy liked to joke around a lot. On a visit to the engineroom, he talked with a couple of our engineers and they realized they all knew the same guy, a guy who was chief engineer twenty years ago. I don’t really know how, but somehow this nameless guy (Roger) heard the hat story. He decided to play a joke on me, since he knew how much grief I’d gotten over the hat for Captain Bates. So around five one afternoon, I was the bartender in the Texas Lounge. Nameless guy (Roger) came up to the bar with an engineering hat on, and an innocent smile. I looked at him and said, Where did you get that hat? He said, Oh, I just asked for it, and they gave it to me in engineering. I said, I know that didn’t happen. Who gave you that hat? I knew perfectly well someone was goofing on me, and I thought I knew who. Nameless (Roger) kept acting innocent, but I knew there was a plot afoot. I kept pressing him for a name or description, but told him, I know who gave it to you anyway! Finally, he admitted that a particular person had given him the hat—the person I had suspected. Sharpening my tongue, I took off for engineering.
This engineer was not there. In fact, I could not find him anywhere—not in the crew mess, nor in the officers’ mess. I stormed back to engineering, ready to do battle—I figured they were all in on the joke at some level. I began to demand, in a distinctly unladylike manner, where was this person I suspected had given out the hat? Just then, he poked his head out from the workroom, expressing total innocence. He said he had not even been back in engineering all afternoon—and for once, looked like he was telling the truth! At this point, one of the engineers—someone I really trusted—confessed that, while he did not give nameless (Roger) the hat, he DID feed him the name of the engineer to give me—knowing that, of anyone, I would believe that this person set me up. Oh, how true! No one would admit to giving nameless (Roger) the hat, but there it was—the proof that I had been set up, and by someone I trusted! Now, I had to show them how betrayed I felt!! So I did the hissy-fit thing they were all expecting, stomping my feet as I left. As soon as I got out of there, I collapsed in laughter. Oh, had they gotten me!! Payback!! It was good—but still, who had given nameless (Roger) the hat? It took me awhile to put it together, but here it is. Nameless (Roger) saw a great opportunity to yank my chain (oh, there are many, I fear). He went down to engineering, and stopped the first guy he saw, who happened to be the very nice guy I’d shared that funny story with. He held out $80 to Mike and said, "Look, I’d like to borrow your engineering hat for a little while. I promise to bring it back, but if I don’t, you still have this $80. What do you say?" Mike said, "Why do you want my hat?" Nameless (Roger) said, "There’s this bartender named Mary . . . "--and Mike said, "Say no more," and gave him the hat. Just that easy. He didn’t even ask what the plot was—he was ready to pull one over on me that fast. I was betrayed by two people I trusted most, besides Seth—who was not on the boat then. (Subsequently, I might add, Seth has confessed he would have been in on it in a heartbeat. He has gone over to the dark side). And the one person I would suspect most? Totally innocent.
(written by Mary Charlton, just posted by Franz Neumeier)
