Page 64 of A Perfect Disaster

Maika lets out a low whistle.

“Naples never disappoints when it decides to get dramatic,” she remarks with a resigned smile.

Arturo looks at both of us, fixing his gaze first on me and then on her.

“We want you to handle this together.”

The word “together” echoes strangely through the room. Maika doesn’t move, but I can tell she’s focusing.

“Together under what organizational structure?” she asks.

“Helen will handle the security perimeter, access control, and the flow at the pier. You’ll be in charge of direct passenger management, deploying the entertainment team to keep spirits up, and relocating people to the vehicles.”

My mind protests immediately.

“I usually coordinate ground incidents from headquarters.”

“We know that, Helen,” Julianne interjects. “But for this evaluation to be effective, we need to see you outside your usual environment. Away from the control screens.”

Gonzalo coughs suspiciously behind his tablet. I’d bet my rank that he’s stifling a laugh. I glare at him before turning back to the team.

“We need your leadership down there on the dock,” Arturo insists. “Face to face with port authorities and managing the crowd. The Naples dock is a hornet’s nest on normal days; today it’s going to be a pressure cooker.”

Great. A live, in-person lesson in humanity, stuffed into a reflective vest and with a real risk of a riot right at the ship’s side. If Gonzalo wanted me to be more empathetic, he should be the one going down there to swallow this shit.

Maika glances at me out of the corner of her eye, clearly amused by my internal debate.

“Any specific guidelines from headquarters?” she asks Julianne.

“Maintain order and transparency. Don’t promise any services that haven’t been confirmed by the local agency. And above all, we want to see how you resolve a conflict by working in parallel, without stepping on each other’s toes.”

Without stepping on each other’s toes. What an idyllic concept.

Disembarking at the Naples pier is a whirlwind of noise, beeps, and heat. As soon as I cross the walkway checkpoint with my handheld radio and high-visibility vest, I feel an uncomfortable sense of vulnerability. From the control center, the chaos is visible in high definition. Down here, passengers are crowding against the barriers: some lost with their backpacks, others shouting for solutions, all with the tense expression of someone whose vacation has been cut short by someone else’s labor dispute.

The pier is hostile territory. And ten meters away from me is Maika.

She moves through the crowd with enviable ease, always flanked by her team. Leo, Lara, Iván, and Nico are organizing the lines by color with her and reassuring a group that surely fears missing their trip to Pompeii.

I watch her for a moment as she gives instructions through a megaphone. She turns her head and holds my gaze from a distance. Just one delightful second.

During the first hour, the port pushes us to the limit. As if that weren’t enough, the police change the bus drop-off zone twice, and one of the local drivers veers into the oncoming lane.

“Control, this is dock security. Requesting authorization to open a secondary lane in the north zone for the ship’s excursion passengers,” I ask over the radio. “If we mix them with the cancellations, we’ll block the terminal exit in ten minutes.”

“Copy that, Security. North lane authorized,” the ship’s security officer replies.

Maika appears at my side shortly after, her cheeks flushed from the midday sun and the passenger list rolled up in her hand.

“I’ve got 120 passengers rebooked on the shuttle schedules. Thirty-six have agreed to the walking tour through the historic district. Twenty-two are ready to fill out complaint forms, but at least they’ve lowered their fists and don’t seem ready to lynch my assistant,” she explains with a smile.

“Good work,” I reply, keeping my cool. “I’ve managed to get them to give us the side dock for emergency boarding, but they’re only giving us a thirty-minute window. We need to move them now.”

“I can group them by disembarkation order. Families and strollers first, then passengers with reduced mobility, and we’ll leave the alternative tours for last.”

“That would overload the first vehicle,” I object.

“Not if I send Leo to coordinate the families boarding and have Lara organize the line for the elderly. Iván can keep the complaints group occupied by offering them cold water and the official forms. Angry people calm down as soon as you give them a letterhead and a pen; they feel like they’re causing official trouble,” she explains.