In which Roz and Layla become cruise people aboard the Queen Mary 2

By Roz

I’d never really had cause to go to the British Embassy Post Office until this year.  But my mother’s death brought with it a raft of paperwork and I found our Post Office to be almost identical to one in Britain, right down to the pen chained to the counter.  But the posters on the wall were slightly different, and one day I noticed a poster saying “Finishing your tour? Why not return by boat?”  I paid little attention to this curiosity at the time, but mentioned it to Layla more or less in passing at breakfast at the Blue Duck Tavern on her birthday.  She paused, after I said this. And then said: “well, why not indeed – shall we?”.  And so it was that on her birthday morning I found myself walking to work and googling transatlantic crossings. 

In the run-up to the trip, I had a number of anxieties. Layla and I aren’t really cruise people, I told myself. We are known for our energetic and rather less-than-comfortable travel plans, preferably to obscure post-war zones and the like. Surely we should really be devoting the week to doing something suitably intrepid? There was also a little bit of guilt – this was the kind of trip which my mother would have wholeheartedly approved of and it seemed wrong to do it and not be able to tell her about it.  But underneath all of these emotions was a feeling of pure excitement that was sparked by all the books I’ve read over the years about emigrating to the US in the late 19^th and early 20^th century and all the glamorous Hollywood films set on board transatlantic liners I’ve seen.

Arriving at the cruise terminal in Brooklyn, we giggled with delight at the sight of the very beautiful Queen Mary 2 and at the improbable idea that we were about to board it. Or rather, Her. We’d assumed that security and so forth would be a dreary and drawn-out process (as it is in airports).  But nothing could have been further from the truth. I can’t remember the last time we travelled romantically but as our bags were swept away, we were swooped along a gangway and before long found ourselves stepping onto a plush carpet in the lobby and gazing up at the chandelier in some bemusement – it isn’t often, after all, that you feel as though you’ve stepped onto a movie set. 

We got the lift up to our cabin and congratulated ourselves on taking our friend’s advice to get a cabin with a see-through balcony – it made the room feel gloriously light and let us look out over well, Brooklyn pier, but soon to be the ocean waves. We noted a big bed, a desk and chair, a little sofa, our balcony seating, en suite bathroom… and a bottle of champagne from the captain chilling on the coffee table. We stared disconcertedly at the room service menu that stated everything was free of charge, and could be promptly summoned on a whim, 24 hours a day. Seeing a wicked flash in Layla’s eyes, I instituted an executive rule: no summoning of hot apple pie and custard after midnight…

We then went off to explore, starting at the bottom of the boat and working our way up. It feels a bit like a huge, beautiful old hotel. The décor is a fabulous mix of sumptuous extravagance and old-movie elegance. We poked our noses into the lovely theatre, meandered round the various cocktail rooms and restaurants (in addition to the room service, there’s a buffet available all day and meals in restaurants and a pub, all included – in fact there’s nothing to stop us having three of each type of meal each day). In view of this, following my pleading (despite reluctance from Layla), we identified the gym. That all done, we marched round the deck of the boat, took photos, and generally did a jump of glee. This was to be a whole new travel adventure.

Back in our room we unpacked, contemplated that we really ought to do washing in their free laundrette… and then determinedly put that thought out of our minds and instead settled down to read the day’s meticulously detailed programme which had been left on our bed, advising us of our many entertainment options for every hour of the day. But before we could act on that, we were summoned to the emergency drill and practised putting on life jackets and the like. And then we headed off to the Commodore Club for an official meeting of “Friends of Dorothy”, as per the daily programme’s instructions. It was quite cheery to meet some of the other gays on the boat but we didn’t linger too long, since we were keen to be in the perfect spot on the boat to appreciate our departure from New York at 6pm. 

We ended up settling for a spot on the 8^th deck at the back of the boat which had champagne and cheery music. And soon enough, we were off! I have to say that our departure from New York really wasn’t cheery at all. Like pulling off a plaster very slowly, we inched our way further and further from the shore and the skyline and our adopted home while the live band played ‘We Are Sailing’ and ‘New York, New York’ and we all waved US flags and drank champagne. It felt momentous and heart-breaking and we both wept.  But it was fun to see random passers-by waving at the boat.  And passing the Statue of Liberty felt suitably like one of the many books I’ve read about the crossing. Then we went under a bridge and into the open water, the Statue of Liberty receded into the horizon… and we were truly off.

And so we headed down to dinner (having changed, first, naturally) in the Britannia Restaurant.  Dinner was elegant and excellent (and has been excellent every night subsequently) with much surprising enthusiasm for pleasing vegetarian guests.  After dinner we went to the welcome aboard show with the Queen Mary’s singers and dancers which was perfectly good and thereafter we went to the Queen’s ballroom where a live band played and we drank cocktails and envied the dancing skills of other passengers – til we were both asked to dance a foxtrot by the official dance hosts, which was certainly painful for them but quite fun for us. And then to bed!

I slept beautifully. Layla, however, was awoken by a huge thunderstorm, which she claims lit up the whole room with lightening.  Ah well, my ability to sleep through loud noises and bright lights will serve us well when we are soon living next door to Brixton Police Station…  Next morning, I persuaded Layla that she should come to the gym with me. She reluctantly agreed, but not before summoning (free) room service to bring us coffee and juice. As you do. We went for a brief run once around the deck (a third of a mile) before going inside and getting into the gym which I found to be exactly like every other gym I’ve ever been to (dull) but which Layla seemed more enthusiastic than usual about because she was able to complete a soduku puzzle whilst on an elliptical… I have to say I’ve never seen anyone moving slower on an elliptical machine…

After breakfast, I intended to go to see fruit carving whilst Layla went to a drama class run by RADA.  But I got sidetracked by the lure of the largest floating library in the world and had a very pleasant time sitting in a brilliant library seat looking out over the front of the ship, reading my book and slightly imagining I was captaining it.  We then reconvened at a lecture by an ITN cameraman called Phil Bye (where I confessed shamefacedly to Layla that I’d skipped my fruit carving whilst she told me I’d been an idiot for not coming to the excellent drama class).  I’m not sure what I expected from the talk…but Phil Bye was lively and absorbing and it’s one of the best of that kind of talks I’ve heard – I’d have been very happy had I paid to attend. It was then lunch (delicious).  After which Layla headed to a watercolour class whilst I returned to my book (feeling happy but guilty).  Layla reappeared cheerily enough, having joined a subversive movement in the watercolour class and painted something completely different to what they’d been told to do (glad I wasn’t her teacher) and we headed to afternoon tea. On the Queen Mary 2, afternoon tea is the most elegant of institutions, involving a live band, delightful scones, cucumber sandwiches and tiny, beautiful cakes… and of course, really good tea. The waiters offered us an infinite amount of each. We mused on how many scones it was legitimate for one person to eat in a day and then decided that it was best to gloss over this for fear of setting ourselves a rule we wouldn’t / couldn’t keep to on subsequent days.  We then sat and read our books before the “formal” dinner, Layla lamenting her lack of reading time due to so many good activities.  The formal refers, of course, to formalwear (three of the evenings are thus designated) and we were interested to see how others would interpret this.  We’d brought two cocktail dresses each (taking up far too much space in our luggage!) and worried that everyone would either look more glamorous than us – or less.  But it turned out we were just about right, and it was super fun to come down to dinner to find everyone in white tie and fancy dresses. 

After dinner, we were a little bemused about what to do, since the next entertainment wasn’t for a while (and it seems we have become people who are very enthusiastic about being entertained at all times!).  We ended up going on a wander round the boat.  On the top deck we found a ping pong table, which was lots of fun until children came to claim it from us.  But by this time the sun had started to set and so we went out and found ourselves on a deserted top deck and watched then sunset in a ridiculously picturesque movie moment. Thereafter we went to the theatre to listen to a really terrific singer from New Zealand perform a range of songs from opera to Broadway and then headed to the Winter Garden, where the RADA troupe did a good staged reading of the history of Cunard. Finally, we headed to the ballroom to watch the dancing. We mused that the combination of being the only visibly gay people and the only really terrible dancers was an unfortunate one – if only one had been true, then it would have been so much easier to get on to the dance floor.  However, we eventually got up our nerve for one dance before bed. 

The next morning, I persuaded Layla to come to the gym for a second time (such a thing has never been heard of before but the infinite scones were striking anxiety in her dieting aspirations).  The day delivered a good combination of engaging speakers (one on Howard Hughes), a planetarium show, afternoon tea (again the existential question: is there such a thing as too many scones?), walking round the boat and reading on our balcony and in the library.  We also saw a terrific production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream by the RADA troupe (the only time I’ve ever found the play within a play interesting, which is no mean feat).  After dinner, we played ping pong (I won many times – ha!) before heading down to the evening’s show “Crazy in Love”.  This was fine, but the real excitement of the evening was the big band concert – back in the ballroom, bringing together both of the ship’s orchestras.  We again had a debate about the merits of dancing or not, but then decided that talentless though we are, we find it jolly and thus we should bite the bullet.  And so we did, dancing away to a variety of numbers from Glenn Miller to Frank Sinatra alongside some outstanding ballroom dancers. When we got up, we were the only gays on the dancefloor, but when the last song played, two other same sex couples had joined us, and we felt we had staged a mini-revolution… 

And then to bed.  We would never have seen ourselves as cruise people before now.  But for once I’m very glad to have been proved wrong.