I got this job six months ago. I saw the ad on the corner street as I stopped to rest after carrying my huge suitcase down eight flights of stairs. I was just kicked out of my apartment. It didn’t require much previous work experience or even any specific skills, just said, “Work needed on board, housing and meals included, get to travel. Service experience preferred, bring your luggage for the interview. After the interview, I understood that they were a cruise company starting a new line of business so many positions were open, and having no place to stay at the time, I immediately accepted the job. I was to start as a waiter on board, and if I did well, get promoted to restaurant manager due to my college degree. I did not believe that it would be a long employment, I didn’t think anyone would pay to die. It was absurdly expensive, almost double the price of a standard cruise due to the addition of their special activity. You get to die at the end. I assumed that it would last at most 2 months, till the company loses too much money to continue trying. 

The facilities on board were worth part of the extra price though. The ship I was assigned to, Paradise Express, had 3 water slides, 2 pools, a surfing experience, climbing walls, an arcade, 2 ballrooms, 3 all you can eat buffets, 5 restaurants, 2 coffee shops, a bowling alley, a skating rink, a theater, a movie theater, a sauna, a mini-golf course, and 2 SPA and beauty centers. There were double bed rooms, king bed rooms, apartment style suites with kitchenettes, apartment style suites without kitchenettes, presidential suites, rooms with a balcony, rooms without a balcony, bunk bed rooms, and joined single rooms.

We employees mostly stayed below board, and you could hear the distant or near but always there hum of the engine and the whirl of the propeller which ever room you slept in. It was ever constant. I even slept with the married (but separated, as he always stresses) butler, who lived in the room farthest away from the engine room, to escape the sound, but it was still there. I felt it in my toes as I sneaked around for a some chocolate after he fell asleep. 

The first guests arrived on board a week after my training ended. Those seven days went much smoother than we had expected, no one seemed ready during the training, yet the guests left quite a large number of five star reviews. 

It seems strange that they would leave reviews when they were supposed to have died, right? Well, in truth, for the months that I have been on board, no one has actually died, except the old man who was too old to eat eight plates of fois gras in one sitting. Weirdly, on the last day of the trip, everyone checked no on their “escape ticket” and signed the document tp pay $100 for giving up their “death experience” (this fine was part of the contract they signed as they got on the cruise). All these documents were then scanned and brought down to be shredded. I was on “shredding job” during the third or fourth month, and there was always a mountain of paper to be discarded every time we stopped at port. 

I wasn’t sure if this was part of the company’s plan, that no one would actually die, and I realized it was not really in my training to deal with the “dying” part. Life on the cruise became like almost any other life on a cruise. My favorite part of each trip was patrol duty on the last two days of each trip. It was a tiring job, patrol, and the food gets cold when your shift ends, so most people were glad to trade with me to wait tables in the Red Dragon, a wildly unauthentic Chinese restaurant. 

I like to walk on the deck on the second and third levels of the cruise. There, the sea winds are softer and you only taste the salty air if you stick out your tongue. On the second to last night, you mostly see people sitting or pacing alone or in pairs, silent or in low conversations. If you listen carefully, you can make out their conversation. They question death and each other, as if daring the other to back down from the destiny they had so determinedly chose, just to give themselves some leverage to back down too. Those who are alone either start calling their friends and family, who almost always, relieved, talk them down from dying, or they begin to talk to me. I deliberately walk slow, smiling to each and everyone leaning against the rail or sitting on pool seats. After a few rounds around the deck, they usually motion me over, or just start talking.

“…just a quick question…”

(Yes madame, how can I help you?)

“…hmm, you, can you come over for a sec..”

(Alright sir, what do you need?)

“…you must have seen this a lot huh…

(I beg your pardon miss?)

“…oh its nothing…do you think its possible to realize you love life even if you wanted to die?”

(Of course madame, what’s not to love about life.)

“…actually, is there a way I could return, you know? I’m not sure I’m ready for that final activity if you know what I mean.”

(Well sir, of course, if you could just tell me your room number, I’ll ask them to get you the form right now.)

“…well, just people who get a bit of cold feet in the end, like at a wedding. It is normal to have cold feet now isn’t it? I got cold feet at my wedding too, isn’t that funny.”

(Of course miss, we all get cold feet. Would you like a hot cup of tea inside?)

Then, on the last day before we arrive on shore, the front desk gets really busy. Every few minutes, a guest would sneak to the front desk wearing their heads low or dark sunglasses and ask for the cancellation form, and the busboys would go around the cruise putting slips of paper on the guest tables. It was not a fun job, so again, I would patrol the deck. 

The guests would show the funniest expressions. All of them start out lying about how much they can’t stand living and the burdens they have, sneaking careful peeks at their neighbor’s expressions as they sipped on their pink drinks and martinis. Then, one slip in the mask, or sometimes, by our push, they come out. One thing I love to do is to go over to the guests who had signed the cancellation form and whisper, not so quietly, that we have already received their form and are processing the cancellation, reassuring them that we will sort it out speedily. This breaks the bubble. They smile awkwardly at their neighbors, saying, “well, it’s out now I guess. We weren’t ready.” Then, they would see the relieved faces of their neighbors and laugh, high-noted and a bit forced, at their mutual deceit. It makes me want to laugh each time. They hold on to their dignities like a life jacket, which is something they will definitely wear, every time.  

They always claimed that they had a newfound respect for life when they got off the boat. The cruise company did receive some backlash at the start, about its unorthodox ending. People judged the legality in such business modes, but I guess the company had a very strong legal team. Then, people were being interviewed in the papers as “Survivors of the Death Cruise”. They always pose in front of their unused swimming pools, with their families or holding their tiny tiny dog, and talk about the profound impact this experience had on them, how they now respected their life and everything it entailed, that they needed something to bring back their “lust for life”, that life was without meaning and monotonous, but being on the verge of death brought them “back to life”. These interviews were popular for a while, and for a few weeks, our bookings were always full. Then, people stopped questioning about survivors or why is it that no one actually died from these cruise trips. They just moved on.

Still, I wondered sometimes if this was what the company had envisioned, that no one would actually want to die, that this was just a media stunt. Did they actually have the paperwork worked out if someone decides to really die? I asked my manager once, when guests were retiring to their rooms after the Eden Ball; she told me it was above my pay grade to worry about this, and that I should clean up the spill at table eight. I also asked my friend Sammy who cleaned the rooms. He always has the best stories; the guests leave all sorts of things behind. He once found a 3 legged stocking. He told me they were too rich to die. 

Our next trip was bound to the islands, and we had two days of rest before the new guests arrived. We were actually quite close to the city I was staying in before, so I decided to stop by my old block. The streets felt familiar, and I could easily trace the steps to my old apartment building. There was the same old chip in the sidewalk from when the drunk man living two floors below me crashed his car into the curb. The same advertisement was still there on the street corner, faded. A new superfood bistro had opened across the street, and their screen played the ad to the “Paradise Express” (Leaving in 2 days, LIMITED TICKETS STILL AVAILABLE). It had been long since I had gotten off the boat, and the soft hum buzzed in my ear, following me, even in the empty street. It was almost dark when I got back on the cruise, and I didn’t leave the cruise the next day, just played card games with other members of the crew. 

The guests usually arrive onboard around 11am; this was so that they could put their things away, marvel at the cruise, and be in time for the welcome lunch held in our biggest ballroom. It was always quite crowded, with chairs bumping into each other every time someone tried to stand up, and the noice was overwhelming. The captain screamed her welcome speech, but she could have been swearing and no one would have known. 

The trip continued as usual. It was my third trip to the Islands, so I was familiar with the programming each day. We would arrive at the Islands on the 4th day, anchor down for a day, and return to end the 7 day trip. I was assigned the night shift for some reason, which I assumed was because the butler hated me. Night duty usually not busy, just helping some of the drunk guests back to their room and checking the decks for any safety issues. Sammy had said the previous night before that there was always a woman on the second floor deck around midnight, and that she had marvelous hair, so I stopped by the second floor deck around midnight just to take a look. 

She did have marvelous hair. But I sensed that she did not want to talk to anyone, so I took a route far away from where she stood. Her hair was easy to spot from the crowd, so it became my unconscious second thought to look for her every time I scanned the crowd. She was always at the parties and at the restaurants, laughing with her teeth out, so she faded again into the background. 

I went looking again for an escape from the engine hum. I tried sleeping in the lounge chairs by the pool once, but I was caught and shooed away by the deck manager coming out for a smoke. 

The days dragged long on the cruise. We had to give them the best time of their life (“live everyday like it’s your last day because it really can be!”). 

The Eden Ball was the last party during the return journey, and it was held late afternoon around 7pm on the second to last day. It was never really announced that early, but they always seemed to have something ready to wear for the occasion. People dressed up like Adam and Eve, or the snake, or an apple, or wore just wore ball gowns, saying they were religious. I doubt that anyone there was religious. It was usually after this party that people start to act on their second thoughts, and the cowardly ones (or brave ones actually) start asking for cancellation forms. 

I did my usual patrols around the second and third level decks, had the same conversations with the people sitting or pacing, thinking. I did see the lady with the marvelous hair again. I knew that she had came alone, but she was not one of those who spoke to me. She was by the railings on the second level at midnight again. Maybe she called her family and friends; she would have had a lot of acquaintances.

It was the last day, and I met Sammy walking briskly down the corridor. Sammy never walked briskly, so I asked him what was wrong. He told me that there was a room without the cancellation form, and he had to tell his manager. I had just finished my shift. My feet felt leaded and pinned to my shoes, but I still followed Sammy. His manager shouted at him to check again; he said he checked three times; his manager said why not four times, or five times; he said it was not there, and that he, the manager, can go look for it himself if he still doesn’t believe it. They stormed back to the room; he checked again; his manager was irritated and checked again himself. They realized that there was no cancellation form. 

Whose room is this? I asked Sammy, taking in the actually quite clean room with pink toiletries and slippers. He told me it’s the room of the lady with the marvelous hair. His manager saw that I knew who she was and asked me go find her; he said he didn’t care that I was on break. I was there for some reason, so I had to go find her. 

I found her at the third floor cafe. It was the first time I saw her face clearly, and she was wearing bright orange eye shadow. I told her that we had some trouble at her room and hoped that she could please come with me to sort it out. I was not sure how they would approach this; the guests were not required to sign the cancellation form. The manager brought the lady to the butler, who was in charge of guest services; he then brought the lady to the captain, saying they had a special experience for those who decided to go through with dying. The captain had no one to bring the lady to, so they all stood in her cabin. The captain first tried to be empathetic. She tried to get the lady to talk about her troubles, saying that she’ll always be there for her. She was ignored. Then, they tried to get the lady to speak with the company board, who promised free tickets to any of their cruise ships. She wouldn’t listen. They asked me and Sammy to grab her mimosas from the bar and “whatever it is they serve in the buffet”. When we came back, they had left. I placed the food in her room.

The butler told me to follow her. I didn’t know where to find her, so I went by the pool. There I saw Sammy, they made him follow her too. We didn’t know what to do, so we just watched her. She seemed quite at peace, not fidgety like the others, and it was clear she did not wish to speak to us. They came out after 20 minutes, all with smiles of fake sincerity. The captain had phoned the company board. The board was calling their lawyers, but there was nothing they could do to stop her. They tried to call her family, but the line was empty. They ranted on and on about the wonders of life, which I can’t seem to recall. They even tried to show her those empty videos from a few months ago. There was nothing they could do to stop her. She was just doing what she signed up for. No one seemed sure about what to do. They debated amongst themselves, sometimes stepping forward to offer her something, just to walk back shaking their head. 

The lady said she needed a refund because she was promised more dignified methods than whatever we were offering. I thought of the man who ate eight plates of foie gras, but the room had a faint rotten smell the few hours after he was pulled away. I wanted to sneak away because I was never taught how to deal with this situation during my training. 

I was irritated by the nervous state of the captain and the butler and felt like a hypocrite spying on her. She had made a choice. I respected her decision. Their groveling seemed just the opposite. 

We were sent back to our duties. My rest time had ended 5 minutes before. The guests got off the boat an hour early, and every room was cleaned except for the lady’s. She didn’t leave with the other guests.

Her marvelous hair floated on the water. It was a wig. Later that day, her body floated up too, and she still had traces of that orange eye shadow. 

We heard that she jumped from the highest level of the cruise. No one wanted to clean up her room. Sammy pretended that he had stomach ache. 

The Heavenly Escape company faced terrible backlash, and a media frenzy built around the lady who drowned because she went on a cruise ship. The Paradise Express was mocked as the “Paradies Express”, and our next trip was indefinitely postponed. We still stayed on the cruise a week after the incident. Most of us played cards in the ballroom and drank some of the leftover champagne. The company didn’t announce that we would be let go, but everyone knew that it wasn’t going to last. After seven days docked at the harbor near the city I was staying in, we were gathered and fired. They gave us a month’s pay in advance and told us to quickly pack our bags. 

It was not hard saying goodbye to the cruise. 

I used my remaining money to lease out the apartment I had before, but now I had to share it with someone else. Still, sleep was nice without the ever constant hum. 

One day, I went around the corner, the ad was still there. Some kid had made graffiti over the slogan, and with pen, crossed out “Paradise Express” with “Go To Hell Express”. No one thought about taking it off.  

Now, I work as an Uber driver. It pays well and not a tiring job. It was a bit like deck patrol, I guess, as I sometimes got to talk with the passenger. But it was also, in some way, fulfilling, after the cruise. There was always a set destination. People were always sure of where they wanted to go, and they stuck to their choices. It was the smallest decision, but it was a sincere one nonetheless.