Caribbean Cruise Journal - Part Two

Day 3 – Monday – At Sea

Because we can, we order breakfast on the balcony. I rediscover the fact that grapefruit is fucking terrible and anyone who says they like it are pretending (but for the love of Christ I can’t figure out why.) Sarah scored a book of great shopping vouchers on the last shopping talk, so she heads over for round two of it. I try the casino again, and experience some actual luck on a game called Leprechaun’s Gold. It’s fun, but highly obnoxious if you’re not the one playing. Every eight seconds, win or lose, the leprechaun starts talking smack. “Irish eyes are smiling, they are!” “I bet you’d know what to do with a shillelagh, don’t you?” “How about you expose yourself to Ireland?”

I meet up with Sarah for morning trivia, which we win handily despite several dead weight pairs who join us in Bob and Andrea's absense. The prize: more water bottles, which we give away. Next, we head up to the Lido deck for a bite and a beer. We wander up to the sports area where I spy a giant chessboard with two-foot high pieces. I totally strongarm her into a game (she’s played maybe four times in the past fifteen years), but fortunately she finds an ally. An eager-looking bearded guy (aren’t they all?) gives her a few tips, and then slowly takes over the game. While he doesn’t wipe the floor with me, North Carolina Mike knows what he’s doing, and it’s all over for me nice and quick. I set up a rematch for later in the cruise.

Quick, nauseating visit to the gym (because the ship is pitching and rolling like mad), another stop at the sanctuary, and then we join Bob and Andrea for afternoon trivia—where we suffer our first crushing loss. Back to the room to recover from the first half of an oh-so-rough day. Then we try at more trivia, 70s-themed this time, were we endure the ignominy of back-to-back losses. With a bucket of beer at our side, we stick around for the 70s party that follows, which turns out to be more fun then we expected. In the middle of it, there is a prize giveaway with a Name That Tune component. Sarah scores with Sir Duke, and gets roped into the second part of the contest with four other women. Each contestant has to perform their best drum solo to the tune of Wipe Out (backed by the band). It’s a by-applauses judging system and Sarah comes in second to the last girl to play—who wins only be virtue that she goes last. Sarah misses out on the bottle of champagne but gets a travel alarm clock (our third) as consolation.

Day 4 – Tuesday – St. Thomas

Wakey. I peak out the window at St. Thomas, and it’s nice, but the first time I peaked out the window after coming to port on a cruise ship I had Dubrovnik out the window, so this isn’t quite the same. After breakfast, we head down for our first shore excursion—snorkeling with Captain Nautica. The tour stars with one of the guides giving a speech about the horrible things to avoid at all cost (“fire coral and sea urchins, either of which will put you in world of pain you might never wake out of—otherwise, have fun!), then we hop on the boat and skip our way to Destination One: Rock Island. On the way, the instructors give us the ABCs of snorkeling, one of the facts being that if you have facial hair you’ll probably find that it wicks and breaks the seal of your mask. As it turns out, she is not fucking kidding. For the first thirty minutes in the water a steady stream of water seeps up my nose, and every time I surface it rolls down my throat. It burns like the devil and tastes like ass. (Actually, considering the salt concentration there’s something else I imagine it tastes like—something no one should swallow by the litre). Fortunately, Sarah reminds me that the mustachioed among us were instructed to press two fingers down on either side of the mask (or slather ourselves in Vaseline—this is true.) Option one works like a miracle. We see coral, fish, urchins—neat—but we also see turtles, which I could have watched all day. There’s also a manta ray that we get to see, a pissed-off looking thing, and more alien-looking then anything I’ve ever seen in real life. Our second stop is a coral reef off of Little St. James. It’s both better—cause I’ve got mad snorkeling skills now—and worse—because there’s a strong current that wants to steal us away to Puerto Rico.

Back on the boat, shower, change, and eat, then it’s over to St. Thomas proper. It’s nice—touristy as all get out—but not poor. Sarah has chosen a great itinerary because we don’t visit any places that make me feel like me good time was made upon the broken backs of the poor. Sarah nets a pile of free swag thanks to the shopping book she bought (the Savvy Shopper). I decide the islands aren’t so unlike Las Vegas: you get to take your beer out on the street, and all the businesses try to incentivize you with perks and free swag. I’m okay with both of these things

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After cleaning ourselves up nice, we show up late to 80s trivia (which we would have cleaned up on). Utah Steve and Jenny are there. Since there are only four people playing, we end up sharing their prizes -- alarm clocks four and five. We end up hanging out with them most of the night, talking about politics, the Olympics, child bearing, and Mormonism. Funniest line of the night by a mile goes to Steve: “Most people in Utah don’t seem to realize that it’s a vagina, not a clown car.”

Day 5 – Wednesday – Sint Maarten

Today, it’s Sint Maarten out the window (because it’s the Dutch side; French side would be St. Martin, so I’m told). Our shore excursion is racing America’s Cup ships—or actually, doing a bunch of menial tasks why they three crew members who actually know what the frig they’re doing make the boat work. It’s a big group and we’re broken down into three teams for the three ships: Stars and Strips (an American ship), Canada II (from Uzbekistan, I think), and our boat, True North (would you believe Democratic Republic of the Congo? No?) We’re each assigned roles and titles. I get Main Grinder; Sarah gets Winch Wench. We take our positions on opposite ends of the boat, with sixteen other cruise folk and three crew members between us. While we don’t have a great deal of responsibility there’s a lot to keep us occupied: grinding the occasional gear, wenching the occasional winch, getting rained on, drinking beer, and cheering as out boat leads the pack. It’s not until the last twenty minutes or so that I catch a glimpse of Sarah. She’s leaning against the side of the boat and looking more than a little green. Later I find out that, in addition to the heavy rocking of the boat, she’s been forced to ride backwards—which makes her ill even on dry land. Despite how Captain Ernie urges her to just go ahead and toss, she manages to keep from being sick (through force of will; she hates vomiting like nothing else in this world). In the end, True North finishes first (go us!) and we thankfully get the hell off the boat.

We shop a little in St. Maarten, Sarah scoring again and again with coupons from the Savvy Shopper—the prize of it all being a sapphire ring that she made off with for about one-hundred and forty bucks. Regularly, the ring would be around five hundred—and remember that this is an island without duty or tax. We drink a few one-dollar beers, sample guavaberry colada, visit the shop of the guy who created Yoda, then head back to the ship.

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After we’re back on the ship we try some co-operative gambling. While playing a borderline racist game called Fortune Cookie we strike gold (comparatively for a five cent machine.) We win $90 bucks and push my gambling kitty back to around where I started. After this, we go up to the Lido deck for my one and only Movies Under the Stars experience—a late night showing of War of the Worlds. Sarah retires after about thirty minutes but I grind it out. I’m usually very good at divorcing actors themselves from the parts they play (Brad Pitt bad; Tyler Durden good), but for the first time ever I just couldn’t do it. The presence of Tom Cruise totally killed the movie for me.