Our masterpiece of a social event, the (Antarctic) Peninsula Pajama Party 2011, also known as the elusive P³, was destined for failure for many reasons. Firstly, nobody really wanted a party at that point in the trip. Everyone was tired from the Polar Plunge earlier that day, they were older, the pajama theme wouldn’t catch on. Really, there was no reason to have a party at all. Nevertheless, being the creators of the party, the other young people and myself fearlessly donned our pajamas, grabbed our pillows, and headed down to the Club Lounge fashionably late – and were met by absolutely no one. Not a single other passenger was there.
Luckily for us, we were still so hyped up from the Polar Plunge that we didn’t care, and promptly began celebrating with music, dancing and pillow fights. The fact that literally nobody had come to our party was nothing more than pure comedy. Then out of the blue, a couple people arrived in their pajamas, much to our delighted cheering and jumping around. Before we knew what was happening, people were practically pouring into the Club Lounge, and our little gathering had become a full-blown fiesta. So many people showed up, and almost everyone wore some form of pajamas, whether it be gaudy printed PJ-pants, long underwear and tennis shoes, or apparently complimentary Quantas Airlines pajamas. Cheli, the head expedition leader, stole the show in a remarkably hideous flannel nightgown, and there actually was a staring contest. We had created a giant success out of absolutely nothing!
This passenger, whose name I will leave anonymous should she wish it, is my hero for her fantastically comical appearances in a surprisingly large percentage of photos.
Take this one, for example. We were trying to get a “band photo”, and yet there she is!
Loving Cheli’s pajamas.
There was music, there was dancing, there were discounted drinks. There was a group of very dedicated and impressive dancers, including quite a few members of the expedition staff and my mother. There was a sort of mass ballet tribute to Queen. The sky never grew dark, even into the early hours of the morning. Then, in the middle of all the dancing and the celebration, Cheli suggested that we make a surprise visit to the navigational staff on the bridge. Whispering and attempting to suppress our giggles, a large group of us partygoers tiptoed clumsily through the captain’s quarters and out onto the deck, coming around the windows of the bridge with enthusiastic dance moves, and finally entering the bridge to party with the staff. The result is forever showcased in the video below, to whom I thank both Wendy and Emily for their contributions. It was hilarious.
Highlights include: How it looks like it’s in the middle of the day, how the woman in the flannel nightgown and the guy holding the speakers were our expedition leaders, and how Tom is stopped from signaling maritime distress in 0:57. Hahahaha!
To my fellow passengers on this expedition, this post is specifically for you. Here’s to all the ridiculous fun we had on the ship.