Ship Livin'

Here on the ship, when someone whispers, it seems to echo around every cabin and resonate throughout the dining halls within about five minutes. I think the speed that rumors travel here probably defies some law of physics, which I suppose is to be expected when you cram 500 students onto a floating island with no other distractions besides each other. (This also produces some other intriguing results, but I'll get back to that another time.) 

There are always plenty of stories being passed about; Girl X snuck alcohol on-board by disguising vodka as mouth wash using green if you bribe him enough, the Captain will let you drive the boat etc., etc. Many of them tend to relate to secret alcohol stashes, as the ship's strict drink regulation (3 drink maximum, no chugging, no getting drunk.) has turned the topic once again into a taboo: It's wonderfully clandestine, and such tales are frequently whispered through cupped hands and giggles at dinner time. I think it's brilliant. Once you finish high school and/or turn 21, your options for innocent rule-bending shrink sizably. Anything that's still prohibited will likely get you a prison sentence: not so fun. But here on the ship, you get to enjoy the hilarity of real rules all over again. Not that I would dream of testing such things, of course, but hearing the (mostly fabricated) stories of the quest to get round the system is endlessly entertaining. 

But there's another upside too. When the evening comes, all we have is each other's company. There are no bars or clubs to go to, no shots to take, it's just you, me and that cup of tea and that's just about it until bedtime. It's wonderful. You sit and talk, talk and sit, fill up your mug from the endless coffee machine and listen without distraction because you really don't have anywhere else to be. Tonight we sat and watch the sun slowly sink behind the ship's wake, turning the clouds a dusky pink. Emma brought out a stash of German dark chocolate biscuits: we were in raptures. (Ship food will do that to you). Tea, biscuits and blankets kept us there for hours, telling stories from our very different upbringings, and the moon kept sliding and slipping through the clouds and we would stop talking intermittently to watch it rise anew out of a silvery tuft, and it was beautiful every single time. It was a simple, wonderful way to pass an evening, and made me very happy.