Voyage: On Breakfast

When I boarded the ship, I was very determined to follow a regular routine. I felt that it would be healthy to do so, given the long stretches of daytime that needed to be filled. On the Oceano, breakfast was served between 7:00 and 7:30 every morning, so I made it a goal to wake up early enough to enjoy it every day. The first few days were nice – I was able to rise with plenty of time to spare. As we crossed the Atlantic, however, the earth began to conspire against me. At least once every other day, we would enter a new time zone. Pretty soon, it became more and more difficult to wake up at 7:00 since 7:00 kept moving forward by an hour.

It was such a frustrating experience. Here you are, thinking to yourself, “Ok buddy, just get up this once and you’ll get acclimated.” But then the time changes and now 7:00 is an hour earlier than it used to be. You lie awake in bed, unable to fall asleep till 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning and by the time your alarm rings, you only feel like putting it on snooze till 10:00. Pretty soon, I was happy if I woke up by noon, for any later and I would have missed lunch too.

When we reached GMT, I felt that it was the perfect opportunity to set my internal clock to what would be my new time zone. I diligently set my alarm for 7:00 and swore to get up, no matter how difficult the task. Indeed, I was proud that the next morning I dragged myself out of bed and down to the Officer’s Mess. When I arrived, I was puzzled that the plates were put away and found the kitchen strangely quiet. To my horror, I realized that I had neglected to change the time zone on my alarm clock. By now, it was well after 8:00AM and the cooking staff had retired for the morning.

I went back to my cabin in a gloomy state. In a dream-like stupor, I rummaged around my luggage for awhile and found a beaten up granola bar. It was a gold mine. I feasted on it and savored the taste for a whole three bites. It was the best breakfast of the entire voyage.