the story of the bizarro cruise ship
It is bizarre when you wake up to a cruise ship parked in your neighborhood, when a cruise ship docks on your doorstep. It is a bizarre experience. Let me share with you the story of the bizarro cruiseship:
One morning I woke on an average day of an average week to a very nasal very loud male voice over a loudspeaker or megaphone or intercom type-thing. The voice echoed in the morning air shattering my silence. The voice made me feel angry. It was like something out of a scary futuristic sort of movie about a weird, emotionless, antiseptic utopia (Think Farenheit 451, Clockwork Orange). I thought to myself in bed, not bothering to move yet, "Why is it necessary for these annoying little construction worker men to continue to introduce new noises into my sleeping environment at 7am in the morning (there is a construction site across from my apartment & the noise is an issue)? Are drills & shovels & cranes & bulldozers not enough for these testosterone-filled hulligans?! Is it not enough that they frighten me with their playthings out of my serene sleep every morning?...Now a megaphone? Is it necessary for them to announce EVERYTHING to each other!?"
I arose, leaving the warm calm of my bedtime palace & entering the cold, noisy universe outside, and found my flatmate, Kati, downstairs drinking her morning tea, looking equally as baffled, equally as annoyed to be awake. I expressed my anger regarding the new megaphones or loudspeakers or whatever introduced the morning at the building site across the street. Kati quickly corrected me, "Umm, it's not the construction workers....Take a look out the front door, darling". When I opened the door, I could not believe my tender eyes. My eyes felt insulted, overtaken by the massive white plastic giant planted on the narrow strip of the Thames before me. "I'm a Barbie girl in a Barbie world" popped into my head for a split second because this thing before me seemed pretend, fake, like something Barbie & Ken might take around the world on holiday. So, the loudspeaker wasn't something the poor construction blokes came up with. In fact, their little building site looked like a leggo set for infants compared to Barbie & Ken's antiseptic Dreamland cruise ship. The noise was the sound of some weirdo cruise ship captain calling out to his passengers as if they were not parked on a narrow part of the Thames in London admidst Canary Wharf, St. Paul's, the tip of the London Eye, the Gerkin, and my average little neighborhood at 7am on an average weekday, but instead out at sea! How strange! How bizarre it was!...the morning of the bizarro cruiseship.
Since the "Silver Shadow", we've had several others, including "The World", which apparently came from Sydney and really does sail around THE WORLD. Last week we had a naval battleship. All of these massive, worldly structures parked on our doorstep, barely beyond the safety and comfort of our little neighborhood.
One morning I woke on an average day of an average week to a very nasal very loud male voice over a loudspeaker or megaphone or intercom type-thing. The voice echoed in the morning air shattering my silence. The voice made me feel angry. It was like something out of a scary futuristic sort of movie about a weird, emotionless, antiseptic utopia (Think Farenheit 451, Clockwork Orange). I thought to myself in bed, not bothering to move yet, "Why is it necessary for these annoying little construction worker men to continue to introduce new noises into my sleeping environment at 7am in the morning (there is a construction site across from my apartment & the noise is an issue)? Are drills & shovels & cranes & bulldozers not enough for these testosterone-filled hulligans?! Is it not enough that they frighten me with their playthings out of my serene sleep every morning?...Now a megaphone? Is it necessary for them to announce EVERYTHING to each other!?"
I arose, leaving the warm calm of my bedtime palace & entering the cold, noisy universe outside, and found my flatmate, Kati, downstairs drinking her morning tea, looking equally as baffled, equally as annoyed to be awake. I expressed my anger regarding the new megaphones or loudspeakers or whatever introduced the morning at the building site across the street. Kati quickly corrected me, "Umm, it's not the construction workers....Take a look out the front door, darling". When I opened the door, I could not believe my tender eyes. My eyes felt insulted, overtaken by the massive white plastic giant planted on the narrow strip of the Thames before me. "I'm a Barbie girl in a Barbie world" popped into my head for a split second because this thing before me seemed pretend, fake, like something Barbie & Ken might take around the world on holiday. So, the loudspeaker wasn't something the poor construction blokes came up with. In fact, their little building site looked like a leggo set for infants compared to Barbie & Ken's antiseptic Dreamland cruise ship. The noise was the sound of some weirdo cruise ship captain calling out to his passengers as if they were not parked on a narrow part of the Thames in London admidst Canary Wharf, St. Paul's, the tip of the London Eye, the Gerkin, and my average little neighborhood at 7am on an average weekday, but instead out at sea! How strange! How bizarre it was!...the morning of the bizarro cruiseship.
Since the "Silver Shadow", we've had several others, including "The World", which apparently came from Sydney and really does sail around THE WORLD. Last week we had a naval battleship. All of these massive, worldly structures parked on our doorstep, barely beyond the safety and comfort of our little neighborhood.
posted by Steph at 21:43
1 Comments:
pfff, franchement! What a annnnnnnoying thing!
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