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Karma and the Rotterdam-ed
By Milt Abel | February 1, 2011
| February 1, 2011Karma and the Rotterdam-ed
Karma, I’m told, doesn’t take sides. I wonder though how long its memory is, and if it could possibly confuse me with someone else.
Yesterday morning, aboard Holland America’s Rotterdam, while looking for a place to read the Times Digest in quiet, I walked past an elderly lady who softly called after me and asked for my assistance.
“Do you know where they are holding the church services?”
I didn’t. It flashed on me that it was a Sunday morning, and there’d be observances, but it’s not part of my lifestyle to make note of it.
She took a feeble step towards me and said, “I’m blind and I can’t find it.”
Is there a possible more effective situation to awaken the sleeping Boy Scout in any of us than this? Here was a little old lady who didn’t want to merely cross a street, she was blind and wanted to find a church. If I had a scout uniform that fit, I would have put it on right there.
“I don’t know where it might be. But I’ll help you find it.”
“I thought it was around here, but I don’t see so well anymore.” And she took a couple more steps, slow and cautious, extending her free hand while the other maneuvered a cane.
I lightly held her hand and met her eyes. She wasn’t totally blind, but obviously impaired. After a few steps together I realized it would be more efficient if I scouted ahead and found the services so she’d do no extra walking. I excused myself, announcing my plan and intended return.
We were on deck five, which held the most social gathering places, and I began looking into the meeting rooms and asking staff where services were being held. She was at the aft end of the deck and after a good minute of hunting around I learned the services were being held at the opposite end of the ship in the main showroom. Returning after a minute and a half, she had barely moved.
“I know where it is. It’s in the main theater. It’s at the other end of the ship. I’ll show you the way.”
I began walking with her slow pace, silently urging her to pick it up by constantly stretching and retracting the distance between us. The coffee I was carrying around to enjoy with the news was getting cold. I set it near the slot machines we were passing and offered my arm. She laced her arm around mine and told me her name was Mia. She was from Canada now, but was born in Holland and was ninety-six years old. That would put her in her mid-twenties through World War II when the Nazi’s overran and occupied Holland. I wonder how bad her eyesight was then.
We chatted back and forth about the service on board, the food, past cruises; and I began to wonder if the service would be over before we got there. I almost left her on deck five and said it was right through those doors with a wave, but I knew everyone would be on the lower, main showroom floor so I summoned an elevator and brought to the entrance.
Inside they were singing and Mia started to faintly join in as we passed the doorway. I kept wondering how far I would accompany her, past the doorway, then to help her find a chair, then finding her a hymnbook, setting it front of her and wishing her goodbye. On leaving I looked back and say she was having trouble pulling out her chair and seating herself, so I came back and drew her chair and eased her down, and left.
A good deed. I mention it because two hours after leaving Mia I was summoned to the cruise director’s office. My boss on board. There I was told that an order from the captain had been given to the entertainment department that I was forbidden to take the stage for the remainder of the cruise, and that the ship’s security wanted me to make a formal statement about the content of my show several night’s earlier. I was in big trouble.
The night before I was approached by the cruise director that a passenger had complained about a joke I made about Quebec’s reoccurring efforts to gain special autonomy from the rest of Canada. The joke, and my signed statement, is as follows:
“Is Quebec still trying to break away? I heard they were on the phone to Berlin saying, ‘If you’re done with that wall…’” That’s it. I didn’t even tag it with a comment. Here’s the actual recording of the performed joke from the very show…
Quebec – Berlin Wall joke
A Quebecois passenger thought it was racist. Complained to the ship’s front desk, oddly six days after the show, and demanded that I make a public apology. When I first learned he was offended -for what? I really don’t know. But I was gamely a team player and offered a personal apology, actually learned how to say it in French: “Je le regrette beuacoup.” But that was not acceptable to this passenger, who then wrote a letter to the captain demanding a public apology from me. That’s when the shit really hit the fan, and legal got involved and signed statements started flying back and forth.
As I write this Monday afternoon, the drama has played itself out. Holland America’s legal team, after hearing that the cruise director had approached other Quebecois on board and none were offended, nor did any others support a demand for a public apology, and knowing that the ship’s personnel and my offered apologies had been refused, have asked this gentleman to shut up about it, or be tossed off the ship.
Anyone who knows my stand-up knows I intend to offend no one, it’s the same way in my day to day life. As I wrote to my agent explaining all the commotion, ‘Comedy, by its very nature, is bound to occasionally offend. It took something ludicrous to involve me.’
After doing such a good deed to get such bad news. I was in the right all along, but it was still very traumatic, and a good deal of trouble. If you’re reading this in braille, don’t worry, I’ll still offer a hand. I just worry what will happen afterwards.
TweetTopics: comedy | 1 Comment »
February 6th, 2011 at 1:55 pm
At least you didn’t stereotype Italians, who refer to Canada as Uppa U S.