We briefly stopped to watch the Puttin' on the Hits Game Show in the Centrum which was already in progress since our Tribond ran long. Mark and the DJ would play a song and then Mark would shove a microphone into someone's face to sing it if they claimed to know the rest of the lyric. Not interested in participating and not finding many seats available actually in the Centrum, Dad suggested we head back up to Deck 8 and watch the game from the chairs looking down at the Centrum from there. Thankfully the one family on our deck with a couple teenagers who used those chairs several times to lounge across them while on their devices, wasn't around so I left Dad to hold the chairs while I walked up to our cabin to use the restroom.
While I was in the cabin, I could just barely hear what sounded like an announcement but by the time I could get to where I could prop open the door, the announcement was done. I rejoined Dad at the chairs and he told me that I'd missed all the excitement. I've been on enough cruises to be familiar with the various nautical distress calls (spoken in a code the crew understands but doesn't alarm passengers) including sailings where the medical emergency (Alpha, Alpha, Alpha) and others where onboard fire (Bravo, Bravo, Bravo) had to be called. Turns out the announcement I'd been unable to fully hear in the cabin was an Alpha, Alpha, Alpha call to a cabin on Deck 7. From Dad's vantage point, he watched tons of security and medical personnel go running by past the open corridor on Deck 7. We both sat there half listening to the rest of the game as it continued in the Centrum but mostly watching as several crew members ran back and forth with supplies while one security officer held the elevator and another blocked the passenger corridor. Once the game ended and the live band took over, Dad decided to head up to the Park Café for a cookie snack that he then took back to the cabin. I stayed in the chair and watched as the activity no longer seemed urgent.
Medical staff had changed to walking rather than running as they brought back their various supplies to the elevator. A couple security officers changed positions. Despite hoping for the best, my next visual was the sight of a stretcher containing someone's body completely covered by a sheet being wheeled across the corridor. I couldn't look away as the crew stood there in the open having to wait on another elevator to come up. I wish I could have put up some sort of cover or shield to keep the other passengers from walking right through past them. What a sight that must have been to step off the elevator at your deck and find not a scooter waiting to get on but a lost soul on a stretcher!
We learned later that the person who died was in their 90's so at least it was someone who'd lived a long hopefully happy life. Their cabin was locked to preserve the scene and its other occupants moved. Never heard whether the family stayed onboard or left the ship when we arrived in St. Kitts the next morning. Our prayers and thoughts go out to the family involved.
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