Now That's Customer Service!

My wife and I drive a nine-year-old car with 170,000 kilometres on it (but with a new engine covered by warranty). We love the car but it has had it's fair share of unexpected bills, especially over the last two years.

We'd dodged an $800 bullet a few months ago when the repairs weren't as extensive as initially expected and cost only $500 - and solved a few other nagging knocks and pings that weren't major but bugged us nonetheless.

Friday was one of those rare days when I drove to work because I had an afternoon dentist appointment. Everything's fine all day, then I leave the office to head home and nothing - the engine won't make a sound. I phone my repair shop (to whom I've taken my business for over a decade) and while I'm waiting for CAA to show up the owner sends a guy over to take a look.

Unfortunately, the guy thinks he knows what the problem is but he can't do any repairs in the parking lot. So CAA tows me to the repair shop, the owner puts the car in a bay and says if they get time they'll look at it Saturday. Then he asks us how we're getting home. We say by bus, like we usually do. He insists on giving us a lift and on the way home we discover he lives clear across town from us.

The next day, I'm taking the bus to do the weekly groceries and my cell phone rings. It's Angelo, the owner. They fixed the and if I could come before 1 I could have the car for the rest of the weekend.

I get to the shop, armed with credit card (and coffee and donuts). Angelo tells me the problem was nothing more than a broken wire.

The bill? No charge.

He's got a customer for life. There's so many points in this story where things could have gone off the rails but Angelo just wanted to help a loyal customer. And this is not the first time - for example, he's the guy who said my engine replacement should be covered under warranty.

And if anyone's looking for a repair shop, have I got a place for you. Just write me a note.

I miss my old VCR...

The VCR we used to have had one great feature - it automatically fast-forwarded through all commercials. As a result we seldom watched any 'live' broadcasts.

It broke a year or two ago and its replacement does not have the same functionality. As a result, we can no longer watch anything without seeing some sort of attack ad.

It was bad enough earlier on when we could watch the Democrats and Republicans south of the border blather at one another. Now that's escalating with Republicans using ancient comic routines from Democratic Senatorial candidate Al Franken to show that he's 'out of control' and the Democrats say incumbent senator Norm Coleman is in bed with big business.

And federally, the McCain camp says Obama is too inexperienced. The democrats don't have to say anything. Just think of McCain's age, try and figure out when he'll have the 'big one' and see if you really want his running mate in the big chair. Just Google 'Palin' and 'global warming' or 'Russia' and figure it out for yourself.

Then, thanks to a needless election call by Steve Harper, we now have Canadian election attack ads fighting for airtime as well. And it took about, oh, 14 seconds after the writ was dropped before the Tories started the ball rolling by slamming the leaders of the other parties. And that begat the mud-slinging by one and all.

It makes me long for the good old days when party policies were what mattered, not whether or not the leader spoke perfect English, had laminated hair or was 'too slick.' Frankly, none of this group of leaders up here give me any cause to think of them in the same breath as Churchill, Kennedy or even Trudeau.

More like Harpo, Zeppo and Groucho.

I'd even settle for the bad old days when you voted for the guy who bought a round. At least then you knew what your vote was worth.

I almost expect opposition politicians to attack, but that's not the decorum I expect from the Prime Minister. He should be above that.

So Steve, if you expect my vote, respect my intelligence.

Now let's see if I can fix that old VCR.

The music has ended

It's been a rough year. A week ago I attended my brother-in-law's funeral in Brandon. This was the third person close to me to pass away this year and by far the hardest.

Larry Marshall and I were very close. A journalist, he taught me a love for language, whether it was reading a piece of his prose, playing Scrabble together until the wee hours of the morning or groaning at one of his outrageous puns. We had the usual journalist vs PR type discussions but never let it get too intense.

He taught me humility (usually at the Scrabble board). He showed me his love for music. We had a contest each year for who could give the other a worse album for Christmas. One year I gave him an Original Brady Bunch Xmas CD. The next year he blew me out of the water with a musical CD from Ed Whalen, former host of Stampede Wrestling in Calgary.

He loved to cook, but even more important, he loved to share a new recipe he found - at least 50% of my favourite recipes came from him. I think he may have showed me how to live.

Larry's passion was music
He delighted in unearthing, playing and sharing gems
Larry's life was words - from journalism, to Scrabble, to puns
Larry connected with people, ideas, music, stories -- and good cooking.

Larry Marshall was only 63 - much too young. Goodbye, my friend.

What would I miss...?

Recently, a very good friend of mine left Winnipeg for the bright lights and opportunities of the nation's capital.

Jason and I have only known each other because we worked together for the past three and a half years. We became close friends perhaps because we were total opposites. I'm round while he struggles to keep weight on. He's got decades of work/life/family ahead of him, while the somewhat dreaded 'r' word is slowly creeping into my vocabulary.

I can't blame Jay - the opportunity to design video games for a growing company is fabulous ('sexy' is how another former colleague put it), Ottawa is across the river from his family home and there is so much opportunity for career advancement...

But his departure made me think of how comfortable I am in Winnipeg. It is my home, and I passed on the chance to move away three times. But if I ever decided to pull up stakes, what would I miss about the place? What would I do if I ever came back for a visit?

So here's an insider's view of some of the things to crave about Peg City:

• Salisbury House - most consistent burgers in town and their blueberry pancakes or sausage-and-egg breakfasts are to die for.
• Sargent Sundae - great soft ice cream, especially this time of year when you can get pumpkin pie flavour, with pumpkin puree mixed in.
• What commute? Getting to work on the bus in less than half an hour.
• Vic's Fruit Market - the finest fresh fruit and veggies for 1500 miles in any direction. The strawberries are so good all year long you'd swear there's a hot house in the basement.
• Winnipeg Goldeyes - few things in life more relaxing than spending a summer evening in the best place to watch baseball anywhere.
  
• Summer nights - don't buy all that garbage about this being the mosquito capital of the Universe. A sunny June night with a bit of a breeze is heavenly.
• The sky - this place should be called Big Sky Country. Most days (even in the winter) the sky is clear and reasonably smog-free. There's sunsets unlike anywhere else on earth when the sky is a million shades of orange/pink/peach/purple. And drive to the edge of town and you just might see the night sky lit up with the northern lights. One night we were lucky enough to catch the Aurora Borealis and a meteor shower together.
  
• Fude - my favourite funky restaurant in town. We have so many great restaurants here (going out for dinner is the number one winter recreation activity for Manitobans), but Fude is my upscale fave, with tasty Manitoban fare like pickerel or bison ribs. Mmmm.
• Store clerks and owners who remember your name and say hello, even if you see them away from their jobs.
• Dry cold - yeah right. Actually, I'll take a -20 day here over a -20 day in Ottawa or Montreal anytime. The trouble is, we have a lot more of them than Ottawa or Montreal in any given winter.
  
• My friends and family - you know who you are.
  

Gustav runs up the Gulf

With the news that Hurricane Gustav and may reach category 5 status, my heart goes out to the people of New Orleans and the rest of the Gulf. I hope and pray that it diminishes before it hits land.

The mayor has ordered an evacuation of New Orleans and most people have packed up and gone. To those who have stayed behind to provide emergency services, Godspeed to you and your families. To those who are staying behind to protect your homes, I say Don't be so bloody stupid!

I used to work in emergency services. Thankfully hurricanes don't hit the Canadian plains, so I have yet to experience the wrath of one of those storms. But I have worked floods, forest fires, train derailments and other natural and man-made disasters. I have heard stories of emergency personnel who have risked life and limb to save some bozo who figured he would be safe, and if it wasn't he wanted to be at home to protect his belongings from looters.

Perhaps if you stay behind and you get saved, you should also be responsible for all the costs associated with your rescue?

And more about New Orleans - perhaps Dubya should move the headquarters for FEMA to the Gulf. Maybe then they'd get more attention. Then again, maybe if they were rich, white and Republican they'd get more attention...

I'll miss ya, Mike

My last night in San Francisco I learned that one of my oldest and dearest friends had passed away that day.

Mike Brown was a great man and a great friend who selflessly touched the lives of many people. He was a long-time volunteer with the Winnipeg Folk Festival and Lower Fort Garry. He played, coached and acted as trainer for countless amateur sports teams in and around the city. He climbed Mount Kilimanjaro to raise money for and awareness of Alzheimer's disease. Mike was a caring nurse who also cared for his colleagues by acting as a union rep and negotiator.

He was a loving husband to Nancy for 20 years and two days. As proud as I was to be your best man, my friend, I was equally happy that you agreed to be mine. I just wish you could've been here to celebrate our 20th with us.

Mike did a lot of things in his life and this song , which was played at his funeral, captured Mike's spirit perfectly. Goodbye, my old friend. I'll miss you always.

Ramblin' Boy

Words and Music by Tom Paxton

He was a man and a friend always
He stuck with me in the hard old days.
He never cared if I had no dough
We rambled 'round in the rain and snow.

[Chorus]
And here's to you my ramblin' boy
May all your ramblin' bring you joy
And here's to you my ramblin' boy
May all your ramblin' bring you joy.

In Tulsa town we chanced to stray
We thought we'd try to work one day
The boss said he had room for one
Says my old pal, "We'd rather bum!"

[Chorus]

Late one night in a jungle* camp
The weather it was cold and damp
He got the chills and he got 'em bad
They took the only friend I had.

[Chorus]

He left me here, to ramble on
My ramblin' pal, is dead and gone
If when we die, we go somewhere
I'll bet you a dollar, he's ramblin' there.

[Chorus]

* hobo jungle

I left my heart...

I met a lot of interesting people on my visit to San Francisco. Perhaps none moreso than a gent I met on my last night there.

By myself on my last night in the city by the bay, I headed over to Union Square (a large outdoor plaza surrounded by all the major retailers) and to take in one last taste of SF.

I was just walking around taking in the sights when I saw this man standing outside the grand old Westin Hotel. I couldn't tell how old the fellow was - somewhere between 40 and 70 - because he hadn't had an encounter with a razor, hairbrush or nail clippers for quite some time. Perhaps not a real bed either. But looking at him you could tell this fellow was a learned man; he gave off the vibes of someone who was literate. He was wearing two or three jackets and a woolen hat, as well as a sign that read "will take verbal abuse for spare change."

I had a buck or so in change in my pocket and I walked over to this fellow and said "you're creative. I like that."

He leaned towards me and said "thank you sir. And if I may say, you're probably as sick as I am, and I mean that in the kindest possible way."

Here's thinking of you, my friend...

_____________________________

And earlier in the week I had another interesting and pleasant (but very different) encounter with Northern Californians. On Monday I and a colleague had started our training in San Bruno. It was my wife's last night before heading home so I thought I'd take her out for some Mexican food, our favourite. So I asked the trainer where we should go. He recommended Don Pico's a local place down the street.

My colleague and I agreed to meet there at 7:30 but we ran a little bit late. When we got to the restaurant we saw one long table running the length of the restaurant with around 50 people sitting on either side. An old fellow come to the door and said "I'm sorry this is a private party."

My colleague Cathi came up and said "Sid, these are my friends."

Sid: "So, you're the other Canadians. My wife was born in Montreal. I love Canadians. Please join us."

So we sat and enjoyed a feast beyond imagining. Twenty-five dollars per person and 25 courses. 25? I like so as much as most people, but 25 courses?

The courses came out one at a time, introduced by chef Isaac Mejia. Some were from the restaurant's menu, others he just dreamed up, such as the ambrosia-like ribs with orange tamarind sauce or the cilantro rice. One month later I can still taste them.

All the while our neighbours at the table welcomed us like family. We were even invited to join some of them at a jazz bar in San Mateo two nights later.

Anyway, Isaac proved too much for all of us. After 19 courses everyone said enough is enough and dessert - a lovely fresh mango cheesecake - was the finishing touch for the night.

Beauty (and tragedy) by the Bay

Just back recently from 9 days in the San Francisco area. Had a very interesting trip.

Frisco is an amazing city of contrasts. It seems like every second car is a BMW, homes average more than $850,000 for a place with no yard and shared walls with your neighbours. Yet in the downtown area of that same city amidst all that capitalism you see the more homeless people than anywhere else in the free world.

Before going to suburban San Bruno on business, we spent three nights in downtown San Francisco half a block from Market Street, the downtown main artery. Loved pretty much all of it but it's tough to walk a block without 5 or 6 people asking for cash. Some used signs (my favourite: "Will accept verbal abuse for spare change.") to get their point across. Others held out a cup. Some sang and danced. Many let you pet their cat or dog for a bit of money (missing my Ginger, I gave a woman 50 cents to scratch her cat's forehead). Others would hold open a door to a store for you and expect a contribution. Many just lied there on the concrete, sleeping, with a cup by their side.

You get desensitized to it all after a day or two, but you have to realize that you cannot help everyone. And these people are genuinely homeless with not much of a future to look forward to. Many of them are not physically or emotionally able to be part of the workforce. They are much less irritating that the homeless teens and 20s in Victoria and Vancouver who hassle you on the street, too lazy to apply for any of the thousands of jobs unfilled. And Vancouver is where a 20-something man hassled me for change while smoking a joint. Oh yeah.

Why San Fran? "It's the climate," a local told me. "Summers aren't too hot and winters are mild enough to be reasonably comfortable living on the street. And San Francisco is a rather liberal city, tolerant of people with different outlooks and persuasions."

And the NorCal coastal climate is pretty much ideal for a Canadian who is not fond of extreme temperatures (so why do I live in Winnipeg???). The only time the thermometer passed 70 degrees was the day we went on a bus trip to Napa and Sonoma. Oh, and three wineries.

Head inland from San Francisco and the mercury rising keeps pace with the spinning odometer on the car. It's not unusual to see temps 30 degrees warmer than SF only 30 miles away. California's wine country presents a beautiful rolling landscape, not unlike that of Italy, or so I'm told. But you arrive out there and you soon discover the issue which divides urban and rural Californians - water.

The Golden State is facing somewhat of a water shortage which seems to be dividing the people, if you believe what to read in the paper. The Napa and Sonoma valleys are picturesque but this July (like most others) they are parched. Wineries and farms irrigate their crops but there is only so much water to go around. Authorities must try and balance the economic livelihoods of the rural folks with the needs of the urbanites.

Would San Franciscans pay $5 for a loaf of their beloved sourdough or a head of lettuce in order to have more water for themselves? How about $20 for a bottle of plonk?

All said and done, visit Northern California. The scenery is beautiful, the climate temperate, the wine unreal and the people are the friendliest I've ever met this side of the Maritime provinces.

Smoke 'em if ya got 'em, butt not around me

What is it about an outdoor patio that makes it a magnet for every nicotene-deprived soul within 50 blocks?

It was a rare (for this spring) sunny evening in Winnipeg so I left work on time thinking I'd take my library book to a nearby sidewalk cafe and sit down with an iced latte while I waited for my wife before we took the bus home together.

I got to the cafe and jammed into the makeshift sidewalk patio (which stretches maybe 15 feet by 8 feet) were about 15 people sitting at tables, each and every one with a cigarette in his or her hand. One of them actually wasn't smoking - a fellow in a wheelchair who had somehow picked up a butt off the sidewalk and was threatening to get physical with a fellow patio-goer who wouldn't give him a light.

And maybe one third of these patrons was enjoying a coffee or dessert from this establishment.

I have a reason for my bias. I have a 'lung thing" which I probably got from smoking in my youth. It prevents me from doing much more than the average person's daily physical exertion - no jogging, kickboxing, etc. And some of my oldest and dearest friends are smokers and I have no problem having a coffee with them and watching them enjoy a smoke.

But when you get such a herd of them together, in the size and politeness of Boxing Day or Thanksgiving Day bargain hunters, then you have to say enough is enough. It's time for non-smokers to also be allowed to enjoy their day (or evening) in the sun. Leave half the patio, fellas, for those of us who don't want to inhale. And I'll tell the politicians how asinine it is to ban smoking in bars.

But you folks also have to make two other promises: don't hang around the doors of every office building or mall on the planet, and put your butts in the ashtray.

And this is not just a Winnipeg phenomenon. In the past year I've been to both coasts and it's the same, whether you're in Boston or Halifax, New York or Victoria. But there was a guy in Vancouver who smoked something that smelled more...herbal. Maybe if he'd shared my attitude would've mellowed somewhat. Do you think?

Come fly with me, but pack lightly!

Just came back from my first-ever visit to Vancouver Island. Had an interesting time, but more about that in a future post. What I want to discuss today is the flight home.

I flew Air Canada. I can honestly say I prefer them to the competition. I haven't flown WestJet since three years ago when they refused to let me pre-book a seat to go 1,300 miles away to my niece's wedding while I was using crutches after tearing my knee cartilage. Instead, they suggested I arrive 2 or 3 hours early to guarantee myself a seat with leg room.

My flight out to Victoria via Calgary was uneventful - sort of what you like in a flight. We got to the Vancouver airport early to fly home only to find out that our 7:00 p.m. flight would now be leaving at 8:30. No explanation, other than the plane was late leaving Ottawa for Vancouver.

We boarded the the Airbus (now that's a good description...) and detecting no scent of smoke we concluded the delay could not have been caused by a fire onboard, so we decided we'd stay on.

The flight was packed because of flights being re-routed due to the snow storm that socked Alberta and Saskatchewan. But what really added to the fun was seeing people try and stuff their 'carry on' luggage in the overhead compartments. I saw one couple struggle with five bags they were lugging on board - two laptop bags large enough to store that 17-inch monitor as well, a purse that could be used as a flotation device and two wheeled suitcases the size of barbeques. Needless to say, they (and others) had to troll up and down the aisle trying to find a spot where they could wedge in their gear. The result - the flight left another half-hour late.

Give your heads a shake, people! Only carry on what you can actually carry. Is it really necessary to bring that IKEA dresser (I don't care if it's assembled or not) on the plane with you? Are all your items that valuable that you fear the baggage handlers or security personnel sifting through your bags?

Us? We carried my wife's small purse and one bag on for the two of us, with a few snacks and a couple of books to read in order to pass the time - when I wasn't shaking my head and laughing at others trying to pry their 15-square-foot duffle bags from the overhead bins. If you're one of those people, remember to pack the Vaseline next time.

Oh well, at least we were not flying Northwest. Didn't have to choose between the livestock and no-livestock section.

Three Rules...and much more

Tonight my wife and I joined some friends and went to see The Bucket List at a nearby theatre.

For those of you who haven't seen the film, it's the story of two men who share a hospital room after finding out they have terminal cancer. Morgan Freeman plays a mechanic who is wise beyond his years (and who dreamed of being of professor) while Jack Nicholson is a callous billionaire business owner who, in fact, owns the hospital in which the men meet for the first time.

In his hospital bed, Freeman one day starts to write his Bucket List - a list of dreams he should fulfill before he kicks the bucket. Nicholson sees the list, adds a few of his own ideas (like skydiving and car racing) and since he has enough money for his own jet, takes Freeman off with him around the world to live life to the fullest.

The movie is not for everyone - I think you have to be 40+ to truly appreciate it. But as a guy who just hit the half-century mark it had many messages for me. Mainly, it reinforced something I've been giving a lot of thought lately - to live life and enjoy it while you can, health-wise.

That's part of the reason why we went on a European vacation in '06 and last year went for our first-ever cruise. In a few weeks we're going whale watching and in '09 we will leave on our first winter vacation to a tropical destination.

A friend of mine lost her husband (way too early) recently and regrets waiting too long to do all the things they wanted to do together, like travel. As a middle-aged guy with arthritis in both knees, I intend to do things as long as I can (and I can afford them).

Sorry if this entry is a bit of a downer. Perhaps I'll lighten things up with Jack Nicholson's Three Rules of Growing Old from the movie:

1. Never skip a bathroom
2. Never waste a hard-on
3. Never trust a fart.

Cheers,

Your Driving is Dangerous to My Health

What is it that turns seemingly normal people into brainless boors when they sit themselves down in a moving mass of some 3,000+ pounds of fibreglass, rubber, plastic and (a little) metal known as a vehicle?

I live in Manitoba, Canada. We get winter - for several months every year and, more often than not, winter comes with snow which turns our streets and highways into skating rinks. Actually, try and picture a demolition derby on ice.

But put most anybody behind the wheel of a car and they act like they've just polished off a 40 of Five Star and gotten tasered for their efforts. But Manitoba drivers live by four simple beliefs each and everytime the get on the road.

Number one - they continue to drive at least 10 km/hour (6 mph) over the speed limit. These speed limits were designed with ideal driving conditions in mind. With the shape of our driving surfaces here, we never have ideal driving conditions even when the weather is perfect. Afghanistan has better roads. And the Manitoba government in all its wisdom is going to raise the speed limits on selected four-lane roads to 110 kmh (65 mph) because our neighbours (who have real roadways) are doing it. Yikes!

Number two - who needs to see? Why bother clearing the snow off the side or back windows? I'm driving an SUV and I can get through everything. And if I do hit something, it'll likely be smaller and the people riding in it will get hurt worse than me. Many people here think clearing the snow and ice from their cars means running the wiper off the front window. Great for the peripheral vision...

Number three - those signs aren't directed at me. Just the other day I had the misfortune of driving down one of our major two-lane highways just outside of Winnipeg. It was so foggy you could not see three car-lengths ahead but this young man in his Chevy Econobox pulls out to pass across a double-solid line. Guess he did not see the No Passing sign. Manitobans also can't interpret the signs with symbols indicating No Right Turn, No Left Turn, etc.

Number four - so what's this little lever on my steering column for? People here haven't learned to signal. There is nothing worse than getting ther green light and the person in front of you waits there almost until the light turns orange to make the left. It's like they're in the Bourne Identity and they don't want give any hints about where they're going to the people chasing them.

The Bourne Identity was shot partly in Paris. I've been there in traffic and they don't signal because they barely have time to take a breath while driving. Cabbies refer to motorcyclists in Paris as 'future organ donors' because of the traffic chaos with high speeds and poorly marked lanes. Montreal is almost as bad - their unofficial motto is 'if you don't like how we drive stay off the sidewalk.' And in New York people park by touch. London is sane, compared to those places, in spite of the reverse traffic flow.

Winnipeg has no excuse. We are not a big city. We're not even Calgary where there are more vehicles than people. There is no need to hurry here. Be like the weather and chill...

Trail Envy in the Capital?

It seems like the Ottawa press, if that's what you call it, is getting its jollies using Winnipeg for its whipping boy these days.

Some male members of the Ottawa media corps have got their panties in a knot because Winnipeg's river trail has usurped the Rideau Canal for the title of the Longest Naturally Frozen Skating Trail in the Guinness Book of World Records. The Winnipeg trail measures 8.54 kilometres, while the Rideau sits at 7.8 km.

Some denizens of Nation's Capital got worked into a frenzy over the news. The Citizen sent over a reporter on one of the coldest days of the winter (and Winnipeggers will be the first to admit that we get a lot of cold days) to trash the city, weather, people and trail.

The reporter ragged on how narrow the trail is and how the Rideau is wide enough to accommodate a game of pond hockey across its width. So, it's length and width that matters? That rings a bell...

And not to be outdone, one of their editors later picked up the torch and called Winnipeg a spa for bugs. Winnipeg's seasons are winter, flood, mosquitoes, dust and smoke, according to the author who once was employed by Winnipeg's second-best paper. And now he's at the second best in Ottawa (Oh but for the Tribune and the Journal...).

Folks, the Rideau is great but we should not be surprised, with all the money spent on grooming it by the National Capital Commission, which probably has a budget bigger than all the support for near-bankrupt farmers on the Prairies.

In fact, this entire argument is moot: by it's very nature a canal is not a 'Natural' waterway. The Rideau Canal is no less man-made than the Space Shuttle.

The whole pissing contest likely started much earlier when the federal government decided to make the Canadian Museum for Human Rights a national museum. The idea for the museum was the brainchild of the late Israel Asper. A large portion of the funding for the facility has been raised privately and from other levels of government. The feds are promising operational funding.

The arts and culture mavens (and civil servants) reacted with disgust as they learned Pandora's Box had been opened. A national museum was opening outside of Ottawa-Gatineau! And now the feds are looking for a new home for the National Gallery and those luddites in Winnipeg are among the bidders. Doesn't the federal government recognize Ottawa's God-given right to be the HQ for all federal cultural institutions and their high-paying jobs?

Relax, Ottawans. Enjoy all the benefits of living in the capital - like shopping in Montreal or dining in restaurants where (interestingly enough) the prices are right in line with meal allowances for visiting civil servants.

Me? I've turned down job offers twice in Ottawa. I'll think of you on my 15-minute bus ride to work or while eating a full breakfast with coffee and getting change back from a ten.

Princess Plusses

The last time I dissed Princess - today I praise them.

Once we stepped on board the Crown Princess it felt like all our troubles (and especially those involving getting to the ship) we lifted off our backs.

I cannot remember the last time I felt as relaxed as at the sailway party. We watched the ship begin to pull away from shore from our balcony, then headed up to the outdoor promenade deck to join hundreds of others as we sailed past Battery Park, the Statue of Liberty and under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge (barely). A band played Calypso songs, a little Jimmy Buffett and a host of other tunes to get people dancing and in the mood to escape...completely, as the cruise line says.

We stood there enjoying the ocean breeze and watching people hang up and turn off their cell phones as we sailed out of range. It was a pleasure to turn off the electronic anchor - I am one of those people who believes you can be too easy to reach.

The Crown Princess is a beautiful ship but huge beyond belief. At the time of our sailing we were told the ship was the fifth largest cruise ship in the world. It stretches 951 feet long and 118 feet wide, with room for more than 3,000 passengers and over 1,000 crew members in its 19 decks.

Wood panelling and polished brass are everywhere, and the town centre of this floating community is the three-deck 'piazza,' an open area for sitting with a glass of wine or a cup of coffee and dessert while listening to a string quartet or watching jugglers, acrobats or a food carving competition between the ship's chefs. Surrounding the piazza are a coffee bar, wine and sushi bar, lounges, a casino, duty free shops and some of the dining rooms.

We chose this particular cruise for the itinerary (NYC up to Halifax and back down the coast to NY). As we got closer to sailing day we became more comfortable with the idea of a big ship. We like most people but we also liked the idea we could be anonymous if we wanted. And we also felt that the bigger the ship, the more there was to do and the Crown Princess never let us down.

One of the main attractions to a cruise for a lot of people is fine dining, and the food is every bit as good as you may have heard. The Crown Princess offers three dining rooms, one with traditional cruise dining each night, where you sit at the same table at the same time with the same people. We chose Anytime Dining, where you come down when you're hungry and you can sit with others or by yourselves. The menu changes each night but the choices are identical in all three.

Including the dining rooms, the Crown Princess has 10 places to go if your feeling peckish. These range from two alternative restaurants (a steak-and-seafood grill and an Italian trattoria, somehow offering you more food and better service at a surcharge) to two buffets, a pizza and ice cream bar and a hamburger and hotdog grill.

Room service is there for you around the clock and Princess also features what they call Ultimate Balcony Dining (for a surcharge). For dinner you will get steak and/or lobster, soup, salad, appetizers, dessert, cocktails and a bottle of wine. Each course is delivered one-at-a-time by a waiter and a ship photographer will drop in to take a shot to remember the evening by. We opted for the ultimate balcony breakfast, with a half-bottle of champagne and enough pastries, hot dishes and fresh fruit to feed Luxembourg.

Ironically, neither of us gained any weight on board. It seemed like the only time we sat down was when we were eating. We walked and walked and walked around each of our ports of call and in the evenings we danced, played miniature golf or strolling the outdoor promenade. Even when we weren't doing anything 'physical,' we were burning calories walking from the wine tasting in one end of the ship to the theatre in the other end and, after that, going back to the top deck to watch a film or concert at "Movies Under the Stars" a 300-square-foot outdoor movie screen. And if you can make sure you use the stairs instead of the elevators wherever practical you can burn off yesterday's dessert.

There are those frequent cruise vacationers who say you lose the intimacy of a small ship on a giant vessel like the Crown Princess. For us, we enjoyed being in a big enough shipe where we could be anonymous if we wanted to but where there was no shortage of things for each of us to do from sunrise until way past sunset...

In closing, despite the way they botched our trip to the ship, we'll be sailing again next January on our first-ever winter vacation. It just happens that the Crown had the itinerary we wanted so it'll be like visiting an old friend again.

The End of Culpability?

Last fall my wife and I went on our first-ever cruise. We are not exactly luddites when it comes to going places, but living within an hour of the geographic centre of North America does limit our sailing options somewhat. Getting to a port almost doubles the cost of our trip.

Since it was our first time, we decided to move cautiously, taking a short trip in an area with which we were somewhat familiar. We chose a seven-day cruise aboard the Crown Princess from New York to Halifax and back.

We loved every minute - once we were on board (more on that later). Getting to the ship was a disaster. Sort of like Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

We flew out of Winnipeg at 6:20 a.m. in order to get to New York early enough to enjoy some of the sights and sounds (but not the smells) that day before setting sail the next. Northwest surprised us and we arrived in the Big Apple right on time.

We were met (not greeted - that would indicated a degree of friendliness) at the airport by a Princess rep. We told her who we were and where we were staying and she asked us to hang on for another 20 minutes because she was waiting for another couple for us to share the shuttle with. No problem, and then about 45 minutes later she loads us into a van and we're headed downtown.

The only problem is the hotel Princess was putting us up at was in Brooklyn, and the airport rep did not bother to tell the driver. He just assumed we were staying at the same hotel on 7th Ave. as the other couple. He checked with someone (the rep? his boss?) and said she knew we were going to different hotels but didn't bother telling him.

So we sat double-parked for more than 45 minutes on what is possibly the busiest thoroughfare in the world. The driver called his people, we called our travel agent and she called Princess to see if we had been moved (when we first booked the trip we were supposed to stay at that hotel, but they changed it).

Once it was confirmed we were Brooklyn-bound our driver said he'd take us there but it would cost us $20 each. We went for it because we were too worn-out to make other arrangements. We got to the hotel at 4:30 and paid the driver. We dropped the bags off in the room and hopped onto a subway for Midtown.

When we checked in at the hotel we got a note from the cruise line saying to have our bags packed and ready for pick-up by a bellman at 11:30. The next morning while my wife was in the shower the phone rang - it was a (different) rep from the cruise line saying the note was incorrect. The bags would be picked up at 9:30. So much for a restful morning.

We race to get ready and about 10 a.m. we go down to the front desk to see if someone is coming up for the bags. The desk clerk speaks to the head bellman and they agree no one from Princess asked them to pick up the bags but they head back to the room with us right away.

Our bags now in storage, we can finally head out for breakfast. We meet the second rep in the lobby at the appointed time and the shuttle to take us and one other couple to the port is nowehere to be found. We wait...and wait...and wait. Half an hour later the rep tells us there's been some mechanical problems and another shuttle is coming. We're happy the ship doesn't sail for 4 more hours and we're relatively close to the port.

Eventually the shuttle pulls up for the four of us - and it's a ginormous Greyhound-style bus.(Of course, the four of us could've fit easily in a taxi.) We get going and the driver radios his dispatcher, saying he'll have us at the Midtown port in 45 minutes. I yell out "We are not sailing out of Midtown! We sail from Brooklyn." The driver stops, talks more to the dispatcher who says "If they say they're sailing out of Brooklyn, take them to Brooklyn."

We got to the port, stepped on board the ship and everything was better than we'd hoped - and we had high expectations. When we arrived back in NY, we were one of the first groups off the ship but were told our bus would not be leaving the port for Midtown for several hours. When we complained to the supervisor (mentioning our earlier travails), she said "Oh, you're the people..." She arranged for a car to pick us up and take us to the hotel and then for another to pick us up at the hotel and take us to the airport when we left a few days later.

Back at home, I got in touch with the cruise line and said we wanted to be compensated for the extra costs. We provided copies of the receipts and the cell phone bill for calling Winnipeg from NYC. They agreed to pay the transport costs but refused to acknowledge the cell phone bill or provide any sort of recognition of culpability for what happened and their employees (in)actions. We were not expecting much - just an acknowledgement of the errors and perhaps a $50 credit towards a future cruise. If they had said the cars provided in NY were because of the earlier episodes, we would've been OK.

Furthermore, their correspondence was filled with corporate double-speak. Things like "We are sorry you feel like were badly treated." Not "we are sorry you were badly treated."

Does no company or nobody take responsibility for their actions anymore?