Across the Atlantic

Jack and I are blessed to be able to buzz back and forth between our homes in New Jersey and Pontelandolfo. Travel is never easy. Does anyone love the lines and commedia of any airport? The waiting for late flights. The agony of cancelled flights. It all is horrific. We were packed and ready to head back home to Italy when Newark Airport became a shitshow. Outages in the tower causing traffic controllers to practically faint at the controls. Runway mishaps and construction problems. What?

Then the text from United Airlines came. If we chose to cancel our flight, even though we had nonrefundable tickets, they would be happy to give us our money back. Hmmm. What are they telling us? Next, I heard the CEO say that to keep their passengers safe they were canceling flights. Cripes. I cancelled. (Still waiting for the refund.)

Searching for last minute direct flights through Philadelphia or New York JFK was impossible. Then the gift from the goddesses appeared in my inbox. Cunard’s Queen Mary 2 was having a last minute sale on empty cabins. I looked at Jack and bought two tickets. (What, you thought I’d leave home home alone?) The base price was considerably less than premium economy on any airline.

The fare was $859 each. Add on transportation to Heathrow Airport from South Hampton, Cunard Care Health Insurance, taxes and port fees and the total for two people was $2046.54. That includes food but not adult beverages, Wi-Fi, or the tips. I am not sure what the final bill will be but when I do, you will be the second to know.

One of my creative friends suggested that I was echoing my families immigration experience – in reverse. Is that why I saw the Cunard ad? A message from someone who came before me? Write about the parallels she said. Gulp. Let that challenge begin.

Our great driver, Al, from Spectrum Limo got us to Brooklyn in record time. It was much easier than the ride to JFK Airport. With three kids in tow, luggage, food and a husband who was already in New Jersey, my grandmother struggled to get to the dock in Naples. Someone from Pontelandolfo got them there. Then she was on her own.

At the Brooklyn Pier, porters grabbed our luggage from the car and free of encumbrances we walked to the terminal. WHAM, then I got the chills. Long lines snaked trough the terminal. As bad as or worse than any airport at Thanksgiving. As we crammed into the que, Aunt Cat’s story of Ellis Island took over my consciousness.

Struggling with bundles, Rosaria and her three children joined the Ellis Island mayhem. Crammed to appear upright between her mom and older brother, polio crippled Catherine was marched through the madness. Children were crying, different accents were heard and the closer they got to the people in charge the more fear built up in Catherine.

Engulfed by a cacophony of accents – mostly British Empire – I could see and feel Aunt Cat. We were squished and prodded through to passport and ticket control. They took our pictures. I asked why. Who is monitoring the pictures? If we don’t look “right” will they refuse to let us disembark or back into the USA? Was Aunt Cat forcing the words out of my mouth. Or was I just a tired Jersey girl?

Little Catherine was right to be afraid. She was pulled from the line, taken from her now crying mother, and placed in quarantine. Her experience disembarking the ship had a lifelong impact.

Daily, my grandmother and grandfather came to check on her. Their lack of the English language and peasant status made the ordeal sad, frustrating and scaring. Obviously, Catherine was ultimately released and they began a life in New Jersey.

Domani o dopo domani I will continue the reverse journey story. The Star Link WiFi sucks. You may or may not get this blog post. Let me know. Please add it to social media for me. The WiFi on the ship – that I spent $240 on – doesn’t let me access social media. Hugs to all of you and all of your journeys.

Ci vediamo

Midge