Caribbean Cruise Journal - Part Three

Day 5 – Thursday 3 – At Sea

Thursday Morning, we laze about, watching probably our fourth AFI special. (The TV programming on this ship is practically tailor-made for us: AFI Specials (Best Villains, Best Romances, Songbook), old episodes of Alias and Friends, movie channels—not that we watched that much TV.) We have a late breakfast, a no-good trip to the casino, then I head topside for my chess rematch with North Carolina Mike. Dude plays a great game; nothing is left undefended and I can’t take a single piece of his without losing two of mine. I lose, of course, but I hold him off for a while. Sarah tells me that around the hour mark, one of the kids watching whines, “How long does a game of chess take?”

…

Later on in the sanctuary, there’s a robe swapping incident. While I’m in the sauna, some guy takes my robe (with my locker key in it.) I steal someone else’s and run to the front desk to get a second key. Robe Swapper shows up and I get my key back, but it turns out I’ve taken the robe of a third party, so now the original swapper is short a key. The lady at the desk is a total be-otch about it, looking totally put out and acting as if this type of thing has never ever happened in the history of spas ever. Long story short, I walk away with my key while Robe Swapper is el screwdo.

We meet Bob and Andrea for afternoon trivia (coincidentally recruiting North Carolina Mike’s family into the team), and we win, but Sarah has to fight tooth and nail over a few of our answers (like when Trivia Guy insists that Mandarin is a dialect but that Chinese is the name of the language). It’s tote bags this time, with which to carry our plethora of alarm clocks.

Today is the last formal night, so after trivia we run away to our room, because even though it’s about 4:30, geriatric dinner seating has already begun. We drink much rum, then get decked out in our Thursday Best. Dinner is amazing: escargot with pesto sauce, mushroom ravioli, lobster tails, and vintage Chianti—good times. Bumping into Steve and Jenny on the way out, we tag along with them to watch The Princess Newlywed Show. A sixty year-old contestant—spitting image of Jeffrey Tambor—steals the show. Speaking of look-alikes, before the night is through I make it a point to ask Steve if anyone’s ever told he looks like Robert Patrick. He tells me that just tonight, getting off the elevator on the way to dinner, someone shouted at him, “I loved you in T2!”

Day 7 – Friday – Princess Cays

We wake up neither late nor early. It’s our beach day today (a six hour stop at a resort island owned by the cruise line) which is a guarantee for long lines while waiting to tender into port. Leisurely breakfast, a quick run around the ship for some pictures, then we catch our tender boat. It’s nice—what I’d imagine an inclusive to be without the crushing crowds. I get a kick ass sized Fosters and Sarah gets a jumbo daiquiri, then we claim some loungers to tan in. We do that for maybe an hour, which seems like nine and which is why I’ve never had a decent tan in my life. There’s time for a quick swim in the salty, ass-tasting Atlantic (not to disparage it because it was very warm and clear,) then we have to tender back to the ship.

The rest of the night is a Best Of: a final dining room meal, TV Theme Song Trivia (perfect score, thanks to Sarah who even recognized the theme song to “My Two Dads”), a little more casino, a little more food, and that’s all I have to say about that.

Two final notes

One – While I did take notes about the Saturday, it was our disembarking day so not a lot happened. Back on land, we did meet up with a great couple from Miami who we’ll be sharing a tour with in Russia, but otherwise I spent most of the day miserable with the waiting to go home, and Sarah spent that time suffering me. But I don’t want to spoil your good impression of me, so I’ll just leave that day to your imagination.

Two – We brought one ‘professional’ photo home with us. If you’ve never been on a cruise before, you should know that their photography staff are constantly snapping pictures of you: upon boarding, while you dine, at every port—they’d probably document a noteworthy bowel movements if you brought it to their attention. In the end though it’s not that bad—it’s fun to check out your pictures and you’re under no obligation to buy. We considered buying our formal shot, but while Sarah looked gorgeous I came off as greasy and balding (and really I’m only one of those). Instead, we chose the pirate picture. It was taken on our second night at sea, where we were accosted by two costumed staffers on our way to dinner. The girl was totally into it, (and not to mention [looks lift, looks right; whispers] hot hotty-hot) whereas the guy pretty much struck out on both counts. I love the picture though. The girl's expression cracks me up, and I'm even amused that Crap-Ass Pirate and his plastic sword are getting to second base with my wife.