Monday, August 30, 2010
Ship of Fools, Part 1
When Teh 'Bride informed me, roughly 10 months ago, that our next summer vacation (i.e., this latest one, which ended just this past Saturday) would be yet another cruise, I have to admit I was a bit less than enthusiastic. You see, we have been on cruises three previous times, at least. (I've honestly lost count.) And after the second, which was a bit of a disaster, I made no secret of the fact that I never really wanted to go on a cruise again, making such seemingly tergiversation-free pronouncements as: "I never want to go on a cruise again", which is about as clear, unambiguous and straightforward as I get, as anyone who reads this blog can attest to because, man, some of these sentence of mine, huh? They go on and on, like Texas! Getting more and more obscure in meaning as they progress.
And it's kinda odd that Teh 'Bride wanted to go on another cruise and here's why:
Teh 'Bride basically does all the arrangements for our summer vacations, which is fine with me because I'm lazy and not very good at calling people and [*shudder*] talking to them. But as far as cruise vacations go, I really thought my "No More Cruises" policy would get some traction with Teh 'B. after our second cruise, which happened over a decade ago, because on that cruise Teh 'Bride herself spent one full day and night vomiting and doing that other bodily-fluids-expulsion thing which she wouldn't want me to mention in connection with her personal body, so I won't — but rest assured, she was doing it and it was NO FUN — because she either:
a) foolishly ordered some vegetarian thing for dinner the previous night that even our ship's waiter was trying, without actually coming out and saying so, to convince her NOT to order;
b) took a mouthful of contaminated water as we were walking up a waterfall in Jamaica1.
And so I ended up having to take Teh 'B. to the ship's sick bay the next day, where they had to stick a needle in her to re-hydrate her because she had lost so much fluid and could not keep anything she took orally down — no, not even water. And the medical crew had a really hard time finding a vein on her because she's not very veiny to begin with but after all that fluid-loss was essentially flat as a deflated blow-up doll2. So they had to stick her quite a few times before they found a viable vein somewhere in the back of her hand, as I recall.
And Teh 'Bride hates needles to begin with. Just hates them.
But despite all that — and MORE; yes, there was more on that particular cruise, but I'll spare you — we ended up going on a third cruise with Matt and Sue just a couple years later.
No one vomited on that one.
And I am at a loss as to what exactly it would take to turn Teh 'Bride against cruises because even though this last one that just ended was pretty good, I myself do not wish to go on any more of them.
And Teh 'Bride, ten months ago, was very excited as she described this cruise to me, arguing that it was different because this time we'd be cruising north to Canada instead of south to the Caribbean, etc., etc. And my excited response of Mumble and Meh and Snuh did not deter her because Teh 'Bride can be pretty oblivious when it serves her purposes to be so.
And since misery loves company, I intend to draw my description of this cruise out for at least a week and over the course of at least five posts, and possibly more; which is why this post is called " ... Part 1".
At least four more parts, limning this vacation in excruciating detail, are forthcoming.
You have been warned.
To hold you till tomorrow — or whenever I get around to writing Part 2 — here's Ian's headache-inducing, overly-long tracking shot of the ship's wake, taken from the deck just outside the ship's lobby on the third floor, a place of relative calm and solitude that we discovered when there was a thick fog on day two and they blew the ship's foghorn like every 30 seconds, making life on the 9th deck, where the pools and hot tubs were, unbearable for Ian, who hates loud noises.
The video is worth watching in full because of its truly horrific, surprise ending — i.e., me, supine, in shorts. (<-- SPOILER ALERT!1!)
Comments turned back on so anyone who wants to comment here can; but please respect the "No Comments" policy I asked you to abide by with respect to yesterday's post. If you have something to say on that post, please consider expanding it and turning it into your own tribute to joyRuN.
1 And yes, that is correct, that is not a typo: one of our "excursions" involved walking up a waterfall; during the course of which walking excursion, someone, possibly even Teh 'Bride, took perhaps the gayest photo ever of me and Matt, one of our vacation companions. (We used to vacation all the time with our friends Matt and Sue; but they have since broken up and that has pretty much ended that — sadly, because we always had a great time with them.)
In any case, in the picture, both Matt and I are standing under that self-same Jamaican waterfall, water rushing down our lithe, hairless young bodies, our ripped abs taut, the fast-flowing, foaming water itself obscuring the fact that we are, in fact, wearing bathing suits, but it sure don't look like it; and the picture itself couldn't possibly look any gayer even if we were fucking, which, if we had been, I'd be a top, I assure you. But I also assure assure we were not. Fucking, that is.
Now Matt and I were pretty good friends, and, like all good friends, we've taken some pretty gay vacation photos1a. But this was without a doubt the gayest of the gay.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
1a You really don't want to know.
2 Who also make for good cruising companions.
Or so I am told.