On the east bound journey from Galveston to Barcelona there are seven hours that need to be lost somewhere along the way.
Given that one of the choices (do them all at once) makes absolutely no sense to people not use to thinking that it is black out during the day and light out at night, the other two choices come to the fore –
1) you can change time zones in the middle of the night making it fairly invisible to eveyone, but also depriving everyone, especially the staff – of sleep.
2) you can make the change in the middle of the day. This deprives everyone of an hour of entertainment, but lets the staff keep their sleep.
I don’t remember what we did on the Jewel, I could ask Chere. Or for that matter on the Grandeur or Atlantica. I have done more East to West than the other way around.
Anyway – for six days in a row 11:30 became instantly 12:30 shortening the day by an hour and decreasing the time between trough feedings. The later didn’t seem to bother anyone, but after about three days I swear that some of the people looked worse than Zombies. Since they weren’t tired in the evening (who goes to bed at 1900?) they stayed up an extra hour or so past where they usually did before attempting to get up at their normal time. Essentially this bright crew then confused themselves by not one, but two or more hours that were not in sync.
Needless to say by today – the last one of the changes and six hours difference into the fun, they were walking into walls and not feeling well.
I was not at all popular when I gleefully mentioned that there was still an hour to go after Madeira. But who ever thought that I was a nice person?