My intrepid reporter Michael Clunt, just happened to visit the Costa Concordia as it hit the rocks. He was not on a cruise but happened to scramble on board as the ship listed to 10 degrees, not too severe.
Here are his interviews with passengers who had not yet started to panic. His question was: How do you feel? Are you getting off now or later?
'Captain Schettino, how are you ?' --" Hi si, I'm Ok I'm a hundred yards away. I am directing evacuation from tug boat. Much easier."
'Captain, why are you on the tug boat and not on the ship?'
" Because I am here with my babe, Andrina and I have saved her."

Clunt goes to the saloon where a poker game is under way.
'Gentleman, aren't you getting off --the ship is listing?'
From the midst of the cloud of cigar smoke emerges a voice: " Listen, stakes are high here. Fuck off or get us another drink." Amazingly Clunt found the barman still on duty.

Clunt visits the dining room where he finds a couple enjoying a meal of salmon and salsa.
'Folks are you not getting off yet ?'
" Oh no," says Doris, "Ian is a scientist and he has discovered a 12 degree list in his wine glass."
Ian chips in: " Modern ships are quite safe old chep. When the list gets to 15 and the Capt. gives the order we'll jolly well move. I guess Doris and I shall have to pack. Salmon's jolly good though."

Clunt clambers on deck and finds the now empty swimming pool. There are six fourteen year olds staring at the empty pool. They wear baggies, sunglasses and three rubber armbands on their wrists: Yellow for Livestrong , black for Fuck Mugabe, and red for Concordia swimming permit.

"Hey Mister when's this fucking pool going to fill up again?"
Clunt tells them sooner than they think.
" Fuck off dickhead , " they say in unison.

'This is Michael Clunt reporting from the Costa Cocordia where life goes on as normal.'

This blog is in jest but is meant to emphasise the casual approach of a leadership crew manning a ship that is akin to a small town. 40 people have died on this ship through carelessness.