First day at sea

Our first day at sea was choppy from morning until night. Luckily, it’s a big ship so it wasn’t really nauseating (hello Bermuda!). We had three parties in total, all of which I dreaded, but I enjoyed every one of them. And not just for all the free booze. First was the Cruise Critic party where we already knew a good twentyish people in attendance. Beyond that, we also ran into Bob (of Bob and Martha)—someone that Sarah’s parents had toured with on their Med cruise. Party two was the Captain’s Club party. We sat down with tablemates Melissa and Garrick, discovering that he and I share a love of novelty T-shirts (Fantasy Football—a wizard throwing a football; the Department of Redundancy Department). The lady beside us, dripping twenty-five grand worth of jewelry (possibly costume jewelry—jury’s still out, there) befriended us. Her name was Belinda, from Florida by way of Tennessee, but basically she was a pre-breakdown Blanche Dubois. Super Southern; critical as all get-out. “What did you get to drink? Terrible, ain’t it? Five thousand dollars a passenger and they serve us K-Mart wine.” She went off on the crackers used in the hors d’oeuvres, how most people can’t dress themselves, and how fat people are indeed just too fat. Funny, though. Entertaining, despite the knowledge that that critical eye almost surely turned our way the moment we parted ways. Party three was held by CruCon, the company we booked this cruise through. Worth remarking on only because there were over two hundred CruCon clients on board, and because they threw the drinks at us like the world was ending.

Also worth mentioning is that the wind was out of control. Between the first and second party, they booted us out of the room so they could set up again. While we waited, we watched the people outside inch their way across the deck, gripping on to every railing and trying not to let the wind strip the clothes off their backs. I actually had to run out and save one lady who’d made it halfway, but then stood clutching a railing in fear that the wind would take her out to sea.

(Quick note: Internets at sea costs a soul and a half, so I’m using it sparingly. Basically, I’m composing offline, logging on, posting and check e-mail (in under a minute), then running for my life. This leaves me no time to throw in links, add pictures, or respond to comments. Rest assured that I will respond like a mofo once we’re back home again.)