It was a long and eventlful day yesterday. The flight from London Heathrow to Miami International took approximately 9 hours - we left at about 10:15am, and arrived at just before 2:30pm. Eastern Seaboard Time. That's when the fun really began!

For the most part, I have to say, the flight was not uncomfortable. Of course, 9 hours is a long to time to be stuck in a long metal tube at 30,000 feet (it was an Airbus 340-600), but with a fantastic in-flight entertainments system (it was Virgin, afterall - I managed to catch up on 3 and a half movies that I'd missed) nice food, and a few glasses of wine, I can honestly say I was content. Unfortunately, I was stuck in a centre aisle, so glimpses of the view outside were limited to say the least, but I did manage to get a good view, over the shoulders of those lucky enough to be sat by the windows, of Miami as we came into the landing approach.

Soon after landing, of course, we were faced with the American Immigration system.

Now don't get me wrong, I understand fully why security has become such an issue, but the two hours it took me to get from walking off the plane to climbing on board the shuttle bus to the ship was at best, stressful, at worse, slightly insulting. The passport Control room is a huge, long room, with about 30 or 40 control stations, through which everybody has to pass. The long queues of hot, tired passengers moved slowly, the process not made any easier because of the immigration and entry visa forms that have to be filled out. Even those who had taken the time to fill these accursed forms out on the plane, or in fact at Heathrow, where we were given them, still found problems when finally getting to the counter (I trust no-one ever actually answers 'yes' to the question: are you, or have you ever been involved in terrorist activity). Fingers are printed, and mugshots are taken, but still the process moves along like a tortoise with a bad leg. It was excruciating!! Time and time again, folks whose turn it was to face the scrutiny of the immigration officials were turned away to re-fill out their forms (any crossings-out are instantly rejected). In my queue alone, there were three or four couples who were sent packing, and when they returned, they'd re-join the queue at the front, much to the annoyed glances of those behind. Needless to say, I stood in theat queue for just over an hour before, finally, it was my turn.

Everything went okay, until the man asked me why I was here in Miami, and where I was staying. I explained that I was an art tutor, and I would be working on The Balmoral. Wrong Answer! In future, I will simply say "I'm on holiday". Trying to weedle out from under the barage of questions that followed "So, You're crew?" "No, I'm not" I said; crew is an entirely different thing. "But you're working?" He asked. Of course, I could see where this was going; however, trying to explain that I'm a guest tutor there to give on-board workshops to passengers (thus not making me a passenger) seemed to send things quickly from bad to worse, and he gathered up all my papers and passport and called over a big burly official-looking bloke who escorted me off into a side room, where I joined about 80 people of all types, who sat looking miserable, contemplating their fate.

I must say, at this point, I felt incensed, and slightly insulted. What happened to that special relationship? How long was I to be incarcerated in this hot, stuffy, room with all these people? I had a boat to catch! As with all these other poor people (and I can't even point to a 'type' of person that was there, because as far as I could tell, almost every ethnic origin, age and gender were represented), I could only wait for the slow, grinding wheels of US immigration to turn, and hope that it would turn in my favour.

The punchline to all this, of course, is that I was finally called, about 50 minutes later, given a stern talking to by a big, burly (yes, they are all big and burly), mustachioed man who said I should apply for a different kind of visa in future (yeah, right mate - I'd already decided that future interrogations would entail me telling them I'm on holiday), and I was sent packing.

Finally, walking out into the hot Florida air and joining the Balmoral shuttle bus, I got my first glimpses of Miami, with its towering skyline, and the anxiety of my previous 2 hours evaporated with the heat - this is Horatio Caine's city - this was where James Bond had his first encounter with Goldfinger - woo hoo! Bring it on!! I have some fabulous photos taken from the ship, which I will upload as soon as I can get to an on-shore internet cafe.

The Bamoral is a big ship - much bigger and grander than any others I've been on. We're expecting to arrive in Nassau, in The Bahamas, at about midday (in 2 hours time), and I have to be in the Neptune Lounge at 12:30 sharp to join my first excursion of the trip as tour escort (I've even been given an official badge). I've also been given the itinerary for my forthcoming workshops - there are three sea days, on each of which they want me to give 3 workshops (that's one workshop repeated twice throughout the day, which sounds a bit tough, so I'll have to see about modifying that to maintain variation for my own sanity).

Nassau here we come!