As we drew closer, the ship’s immense size became increasingly apparent. It was, I knew, the world’s longest passenger vessel, 1,132 feet in length, longer than the Eiffel Tower is tall; it would stretch the length of four blocks on Manhattan’s Fifth Avenue. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” my driver said as we pulled up in front of the sprawling terminal. “She certainly is. I can’t wait to get on board.” The driver helped deliver my luggage to a porter, wished me a pleasant voyage, and drove off, leaving me to enter the huge terminal, where I was handed a card indicating the section in which I was to wait. The place was chockablock with passengers. I knew the ship accommodated 2,620 passengers from having read the literature that had been sent me, and that this particular crossing was sold out. That meant that there were probably 2,619 other souls with me in that building, all happily anticipating their trip. I scanned the room for Michael Haggerty but didn’t see him, nor did I see Kim Chin-Hwa and the beautiful Betty LeClair.
