The Great Steamboat Race of 2006—I am somewhere between Vicksburg and Helena, on the Mississippi River. We are racing our sister boat, the Mississippi Queen, or as we call her, That Other Boat. This is an annual race, usually between New Orleans and St. Louis, but this year we started in Baton Rouge, thanks to Katrina. More than anything, it is a set of time trials on stretches of the river, where it is safe to race, and where we have determined there is no traffic. Also, we are accumulating points towards the Commodore’s Cup. We win points at various passenger and crew competitions, as well as each leg of the race we win. Of course, we’ll beat That Other Boat.
In the spirit of competition, I was talked into something I swore I would not do. One of the first contests is the Ms. Natchez Under-the-Hill. This is in an area of the city once known for unsavory activity, so you can guess what the title involves. Female passengers are invited to dress up as Floozies, and they may bring along anything they need. Crew floozies must dress from the trunk of clothes provided. Well, at the last minute, the HR director talked me into representing the crew, as there was only one person signed up. This involved a complicated covering of my schedule, as the DQ contest was during the evening show, which I was supposed to work. Floozies should have “business managers,” and I started asking around. My first choice was the Chief Engineer, Chief Harold. He begged off, saying he had too much paperwork to do for the race to do it, but he’d do it next time (are you kidding?! You think there is going to be a next time??!!). All my buddies in engineering loved the idea of me doing it, but refused the honor. I was very close to having one of the pilots convinced. Captain Shultz would have been great. He asked what he would have to do, and I told him, just walk with me—I’ll do the rest!! I asked the second mate, Dave, who is teaching me how to splice line—he laughed and walked away very quickly. The only person who said he would do it is my dear friend, Bela, the watchman, and I didn’t ask him. I’d have to get him very drunk to make him believable. In the end, one of the guys from housekeeping escorted all four of us, and Phil was terrific.
I really had the advantage among the crew, because I knew every passenger. I serve them at mealtimes, so I talk with everyone, even the ones who don’t drink. That means I know which guys I can pick on during this show—whose lap I can sit on, who gets a kiss, who gets teased with the feather boa. Captain Schultz even came, so I threw some pearls around his neck. Much to my dismay, the audience picked the HR director and me to represent the boat the next morning in the contest with That Other Boat at the Natchez Civic Auditorium.
Now, I hate stages. I needed someone to work off of. I don’t consider myself sexy, so doing this straight would not work. I needed a plan. I added a cowboy hat to my costume, and told my “business manager,” Phil, what I needed him to do. When it was my turn, I pretended to argue with him about going out there, and then started to show off my wares at “point 1”on the stage. At “point two”, I threw my hat at him and vamped a bit, and at three, I threw my shoe and strutted. By then, I could escape the stage—but my strategy backfired. I won! Apparently, the comedy is what made it work. It was the longest 45 seconds of my life!
When I got back to the boat, trying to look as small as I could, the Master of the Vessel, Captain Mike, was on the bow. I’ve said hi to him, of course, but nothing more. One of the passengers asked him to pose with me. Just great—I meet the captain, and it is while I am dressed as a floozie!! After that, I walked straight back to engineering, shaking my feather boas all over the clean floors. Those traitors had the nerve to complain about it, and I just said, “Sweep ‘em up!” Although I changed into my steamboating T-shirt, I wore that cowboy hat with my tiara on the band for the rest of the day! (By the way, a couple of days later, I said hi to the captain, as I always do, and this time he responded by saying, “Hi, Mary,”—the first time he used my name!).
I am still having the time of my life. I enjoy working on the boat, and I love the people. I feel so at home here. My requirements are few. I’d like a little more time off every now and then, just to put on a skirt and walk around off the boat. But I have friends in every department of the boat. I’ve now been out on the fantail of the boat, the part around the paddlewheel. They don’t let people out there, and it is a beautiful spot. I’ve been on the other side of the pitman arms, too, looking at the construction. I am enjoying the skills with the lines, too—listening to the explanations of why the lines are tied the way they are, so that the boat does not move. I’ve already made friends here I don’t ever want to lose. Pat from the gift shop is one—we seemed to bond instantly. Bela the watchman is fascinating—a font of knowledge about the river and boats, as well as being a philosopher and a dreamer. Seth, of course—he will bear watching as he figures out the direction he goes. This boat is full of wonderful people. And it is wonderful to watch the Delta Queen work her magic on the first-time passengers. They come aboard not knowing what to expect, and leave with new friends and a determination to come back.
As for me, I get up early every morning, just to have time to see what is happening around the boat. I say hi to folks, eat a little something, and look forward to my day. I feel confident and alive. I feel as if I’ve been doing this forever; as if I’ve been a part of this team forever. I love it.
I’m now in St. Louis, getting ready to start another cruise in a few hours. The Great Steamboat Race of 2006 is over. We creamed the Mississippi Queen on the Commodore’s Cup—probably the biggest point spread ever. But because of that, That Other Boat won the actual race. It was also her turn. Of course, it was rigged—we could beat her, as both boats have the same horsepower, we are much smaller, and we have the best engineers. But the handwriting was on the wall when we won the Commodore’s Cup. It was fun, anyway. A great group of passengers, too. I did work my tail off in the dining room, doing the work of three people, and I had only two hours or less off a day between 9 am and 10:30 pm each day for ten days, but I made it.
Yesterday was July 4th, and we had the best seats in the house for the St. Louis fireworks. We were docked near the Gateway Arch. Bela had invited a couple of friends he knows in St. Louis, so I clocked out for an hour and joined them on the Texas deck to watch. The fireworks were pretty spectacular—not as good as Cincinnati’s Riverfest, but you couldn’t ask for a better seat. Then it was back to work, cleaning the bar! Today is a Coast Guard inspection, so I was determined it be perfect.
Once again, it is turnover day—some crew leave, and some return. It is getting a little easier. One chief engineer leaves, and I’ll miss him, but then again, the other one returns, and I look forward to seeing him. A couple of the engineering guys go, but then again, a couple of other ones return. I still wish we could all be here all of the time. It really has become like family in a lot of ways. You get sick, they bring you soup. It’s your birthday; you get balloons on your door. How can I complain? I’m steamboating.
