The Cruise

     “Where do you go to get anorexia?”

                                                     Shelly Winters

 

   “HEY ALL YOU HIGH ROLLERS THIS IS JACK YOUR CRUISE DIRECTORINVITING YOU TO SNOWBALL BINGO IN THE ADMIRALS LOUNGE. DOOOON”T BE LATE!!!” OH, AND WELCOME TO HALF MOON CAY!!

 I’m gonna kill that guy, I mumbled as Jack’s voice reverberated throughout the ship for the 5th time that morning.

 We had boarded Holland Americas Westerdam the day before in Fort Lauderdale & were now approaching a tiny spit of sand 100 miles south of Nassau, owned entirely by Holland America & billed as “Your Own Private Island Paradise”.

  I peered through our porthole at a tiny arid hump of coral with two other colossal Holland America Cruise Ships already anchored a few hundred yards off shore. Apparently ‘My own Island Paradise’,  was to be shared with 6000 other fat, white tourists.

 I had learned quickly that your never quite alone on a cruise ship...even though that’s not what they want you to believe. Your treated as an individual, everyone knows your name, you & your other 2000 shipmates.

 I gathered up the family, took the elevator to B deck & stood in line for the next tender ashore. A half hearted Bahamian steel drum band plunked out “Matilda” as the overloaded tender disgorged another burden of corpulent cruisers onto the searing white sand. I blinked trying to focus on the half mile stretch of beach that was literally awash with what appeared to be thousands of beached, albino manatees. A few cavorted in the shallow water, a few others squabbled over what meager shade was to be had beneath some scorched sea grapes, but the majority simply resigned their fate to be broiled alive, elbow to love handle in the blistering Bahamian sun.

 The cruising crowd is easily led by a few “Jack The Cruise Director” types & it is probably a good thing when your trying to get a crowd of 2000 to participate, on time, in a myriad of activities though-out the day. By the second day Jack could have lead this herd of aloha shirted manatees through the gates of hell itself.

 You certainly don’t need any free spirited, tuna sized shipmates bucking the system on a cruise liner. Swimming downstream when everyone else is headed up-stream is totally against all crowd control edicate.

 My son & I donned snorkels & paddled about the bay but the sea bottom of “My own Island Paradise had been picked cleaner than a desert buffet line. There wasn’t a aquatic creature in his right mind within ten miles of Half Moon Cay. There where, however, at least 1000 other similarly clad snorklers vying for a few square feet of their own undersea experience. A motorized shark fin right then would have been the perfect tool for clearing a bit of space but I’d left mine on the boat.

  Jack himself was on the beach now, trying to arose interest in an assortment of tug a wars & other athletic beach type of activities without so much as an ripple of interest from the sluggish crowd when suddenly a loudspeaker announced the lunch buffet was now open.

 It would have appeared a killer whale had just arrived at walrus beach as thousands of pounds of broiling blubber was thrown into a scrambling frenzy in their haste to secure a place in the buffet line. If it were not for the physical challenge of negotiating a buffet line most cruisers would get no exercise what-so-ever.

 Within seconds the beach at half Moon Cay was indeed ours & ours alone for a splendid hour.

 

We set sail that afternoon for St.Thomas. This would be our longest stretch at sea, over waters 6000 feet deep & waves that were rolling unheeded from Africa....the perfect time to start a hurricane rumor.

 I tested it on my two teenage cousins.... told em I’d overheard the Captain & First Mate in the Explorers Lounge throwing back whiskies & whispering about Hurricane Vern which had changed course & was now bearing down on us at 160 mph....& we were 370 miles from port going 20 knots. Don’t tell anyone, I advised, wouldn’t want to start a panic.

 The Daily Program had instructed us that tonight’s dinner dress would be formal. Tuxedo for men, evening gown’s for women. A sea of sequins ensued. Gowns of glitter that could have doubled as Las Vegas circus tents descended on the main dinning room. The crowd was famished having had to trek almost 100 yards that day from Half moon Cay Buffet line to the returning tenders. Most ship mates had now gone almost three hours without a major meal even though several hundred had managed to knock back burgers & eclairs on the sun deck during the gruesome wait.

 Finally dinner was served starting off with appetizers of Malossol Caviar, Pate De Foie Gras, Escargots “Bourguignonne”, Potato Gnocchi in Gorgonzola Cream, Sliced Sauteed Duck Breast, Hazelnut Crusted Brie, Linguini Carbonara, & a light Penne Primavera in olive oil. A baby spinach with mushroom salad, was offered before a deluge of soups arrived. We plowed through San Francisco Cioppino, Chilled Vichyssoise, Lobster Bisque, Parisian Onion, Iced Gazpacho, Chilled apricot, Cream of Asparagus, Chilled Hawaiian Pineapple Soup, Minestrone, Potato chowder, Tomato Soup Florentine, & a rich Butternut Squash & Apple Chowder to top things off.

 Now, many people may have choked under such heady offerings, may have come out of the gate to quickly & stuffed to much to fast , but one look around assured me we were dealing with a professional crowd here, a crowd that knew it’s way around a dinner table.

  I recalled a cut rate time-share cruise I had taken years ago with a far less sophisticated crowd. During one dinner Luke, & his son Luke, from South Dakota, started screaming about a leaf in their stew. The waiter, to no avail, tried to explain to the Luke’s that it was simply a Bay leaf & placed there for seasoning, but the two Luke’s would have no part of it & made it perfectly clear that folks from South Dakota were no dummies.

 Suddenly in a reserved hush, & a cascaded of calories out came the Entrees: Before us were now laid artistically arranged plates of Pan Seared Grouper with Tunisian Grilled Vegetables, Steamed Crab Legs, Roast Prime Rib of Beef, Grilled Vegetable Lasagna, Broiled New England Lobster Tail, Seared Tuna Steak with Charmoula Vinaigrette, Filet of Beef Wellington, Grilled Venison, Ginger Spiced Duck, Vegetable Strudel, Prosciutto Wrapped Chicken Breast, Sauteed Calfs Liver, Rack of Lamb “Aromatic”, Broiled Swordfish “Key West”, Madras Style Vegetable Curry, Grilled Supreme of Salmon, Filet Mignon “Perigourdine”, Coq Au Vin, Medallions of Veal, Seared Scallop Medallion, Sweet & Sour Tofu, Baja Snapper “Vera Cruz”, Sauteed Garlic Prawns, Roasted Pork Loin with Caramelized Apples, Broiled New Your Steak, Mediterranean Herb Crusted Chicken Breast, & Eggplant Cannelloni Parmigiano.

  My brother Tom finally leaned back from the feeding frenzy, his wine stained rented Tuxedo stretched tighter than a trampoline, & yelled:

 “IS THAT ALL?”

 But it wasn’t all & with an appreciative sigh from the crowd out came desert.

  To a resounding German Marching aria, two hundred tuxedoed waiters in moose antlers marched into the mirrored dinning room, each with a silver tray perched upon their shoulders of some articulated array of chocolate mousse & from each masterpiece of mousse protruded a half dozen lit sparklers. As the tuba’s blared, moose-headed waiters marched between the tables & in perfect precision presented the nights dessert to the clash of German symbols.

 I have seen some amazing sights in my life, but the Moose Parade will be engraved in my memory forever.

 The satiated dinner crowd retired to the Admirals Lounge to hear ‘music legends’ The Crystals, ...you’ll remember them, right after the last Ice Age, three black girls, mega hits, such as Da Doo Run Run, He’s a Rebel, And Then he Kissed Me.

 So it’s cruise lines where all these “Music Legend’s end up.

Anyway, there was only one original Crystal, a perky 60 she was, the other two Crystals couldn’t have even been born in the early 60’s but they came off pretty well.

 On the elevator back to our stateroom an Jurassic shipmate propped up by his starched white Tuxedo leaned to his blue-haired date & yelled in her ear.

 “I UNDERSTAND THERE”S A HURRICANE HEADED THIS WAY!”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

                                   to be continued

 

     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                    THE CRUISE 3

                 It is unpleasant to go alone, even to be drowned;  Russian Proverb

Fueled by 35 knot winds & 15 foot waves, the hurricane rumor my cousins & I had started was running rampant. As the Westerdam pitched & rolled ponderously we gripped the breakfast buffet line and whispered loudly to one another:

 “Did ya hear the helicopter last night? “Well, apparently expecting one of the greatest maritime disasters of all time the Captain & First Mate abandoned ship!”

 A woman the size of Roade Island peered at us over a pile of sticky buns....

 “I understand the ship is now in the hands of two drunken Filipino busboys, & the word is amongst the cabin boys we’re hopelessly lost.

 “Floundering.” added my cousin Dave.

 “The radio antenna was ripped off this morning in the wind, I saw it with my own eyes.” Threw in my cousin Alex.

 “ We’ve only enough fuel for two more days of this, & we’re thousands of miles from port, I understand from the engineer who’s drinking himself silly in the Admirals Lounge as we speak.” I added.

 “Habib my cabin boy said the generators all shut down in the middle of the night, “ whispered Dave. “And you know what that means.”

 We all nodded grimly: “The food will all go bad, & quickly too, in this heat.”

 With that Ms. Roade Island blanched and casually started heaping her tray with croissants, eclairs, little yogurts, & boxes of sugar pops. She staggered away careening from one side of the dinning area to the other as the ship rolled under her feet.

 We retired to the sun deck where the pool water had taken on all the aspects of Surf City at water world. Thousands of gallons of chlorinated water would slowly gather into a ten foot wave at the deep end exposing the drain, then with the ships roll would thunder across the bare tile floor & smash into shallow end wall sending a few brave children & numerous pool toys flying across the all akimbo deck chairs.

 It was all great fun....for most folks. For others it probably ranked as one of the worst times of their lives.

 That evenings entertainment was the comedy antic’s of Tom Drake who had an apparently funny monologue about having his appendix out in Istanbul. The crowd loved Tom but I missed his humor by about a generation. Following Tom was the world famous J. James: The Juggler. Now this guy was good entertainment. With the ship rolling about 30 degrees both directions, J. the Juggler attempted to ride a 12 foot high unicycle while juggling,  ....get this now....butcher knives.

 I believe J. would have pulled it off too, had it not been for that one rouge wave.

 Off the stage and into the curtains J. went,  unicycle knives & all. But for the grace of the great God Neptune a few shipmates weren’t sushiized.

  By now you were starting to recognize folks. There was that nasty old couple from Jersey, always bitching about her allergies, his blood pressure, the weather, the food, gall stones, the rest of us. I noticed them one night after dinner. The after dinner mint guy was handing out one mint apiece on a silver spoon to the departing dinner crowd when these two, knocked the spoon aside and started grabbing handfuls of mints from the silver after dinner mint tray. Stuffing their mouths & pockets with everybody else’ mints. You know the kind...the type you’d be stuck in a life boat with....till you had to kill em.

 Then there was the flogger. Female, in her forties, 50 lbs overweight, (which was nothing in this crowd) and on some kinda health kick....on a cruise. You’d sit down for breakfast, hung over from the previous nights debauchery, & proceed to start stuffing down cheese omelets, & jelly donuts & who should run by the window all sweaty & heaving but the Flogger. Jammed in distended spandex, with all types of wires running from stereos to earphones to heart monitors to odometers to pepper spray....as if someone was gonna chase her down. Now you gotta understand, if someone is out to run 10 miles say, & their running it on a 800 ft boat...that’s 32.75 times this woman is running by you, twice a day.

 You’d sit down to the lunch buffet. A hundred yards of cholesterol & calories, from crab legs to cream puffs & who should run by panting & snorting sweat but the Flogger. At times she would have the unmitigated gall to actually sit down in a crowd of 2000 of the most slovenly people on earth & start nibbling on a carrot.

 She was starting to aggravate the hell out of me, my brother & the other 1,998 fat slobs on board. I wanted to walk over, slap her upside the head with a pudding filled Bismarck, and scream;

“LOOKIT LADY HERE’S A CREAM PUFF, A HEINIKEN & A LOUNGE CHAIR. EITHER START BEHAVING YOURSELF OR MYSELF & THE OTHER 2000 OVERSIZED LAZY SWABS ON THIS BOAT ARE GONNA THROW YOU TO THE SQUID!!!”....but I didn’t.

 One day, my step father, a retired Air Force Colonel was able to procure 4 passes to the bridge. That’s where they steer the ship & ridicule the passengers. I am sure that the captain who looked exactly like a retired Air Force Colonel himself fully expected my step father & three other retired Air Force Colonels to show up. Not the case. Too sea-sick to move my step-dad passed the passes to me, my brother and the two teenage cousins. The older cousin Dave wears a dog collar & ring in his nose. Alex is into Marlyn Manson. Nice boys, average teenagers but the Captain would have preferred Osama Bin Ladin .

 “How Fast we going Captain?” asked my brother.

 “22 Knots.” he Growled.

 “What happens to all the sewage on board this baby?” I asked.

 “It iz pumped out in zee home ports’ sewage tanks.” He snapped.

 “How come there are no pool tables on board?” asked cousin Dave.

 “Think about it.” he barked.

 “What happens if somebody dies...you know, like all the geezers & rich food on board and all.” inquired cousin Alex.

 “Zeh are zent to zee morgue on B deck” snapped the Captain.

 “How many horsepower Capn?”

 “Two engines 30,000 hpr per engine. One million gallons of fuel.!” he grimaced, like he’d rather be having his finger nails extracted.

 “Hey is that, like ...cable TV?” pointed cousin Alex at a small screen.

 “THINK ABOUT IT! CABLE TV??” He shouted “NOW GET OUT!!”

 By now the Westerdam had pulled into the Lee of St. Thomas, the water smooth as a baby’s bottom, the hurricane rumor dying on the vine. I would morn it’s demise.

 I won’t get into the Islands this story other than to say St. Thomas...don’t bother.

 St John, do bother...St Martin,don’t bother..Puerto Rico, do bother. Bahamas,do bother.

Ship life was beginning to grow on me. Every time you left your cabin one of the 500 Indonesian cabin boys scuttled in & cleaned the place. Everything you asked for, you got, & with a gracious smile to boot. The ship traveled at night leaving the days to explore new ports. All your luggage, and with kids that’s tons, stays in your room, your free to explore the islands without checking in & out of hotels, lugging anything heavier than your visa.

 The food is outrageous, the entertainment fun, & the setting spectacular. They were gonna have to drag me off the Westerdam.

 We arrived in Puerto Rico thanksgiving morning & were set loose within the beautiful walls of the old city. Nothing was open. No place to by a T-shirt, no place to get a beer, no old forts to explore. After nearly being arrested for bathing semi-naked in the main fountain the Church family returned to the ship. As we rode the elevators up with a portly couple from one of those states that don’t get out much, I was lamenting the fact that all the beautiful old Spanish forts, (built to ward off pirates & French in the 1700’s) were closed for Thanksgiving.

 “Oh no, not all were closed!’ beamed the woman “We found a wonderful taxi driver named Raul who took us to see a fort.”

 “Really?” I asked ...”Which One?”

“The new one.” She beamed