Cruise Ship Conversations

“This cruise ship has gone to hell,” he yells to the woman lounging beside him. “Last time I didn’t have to ask for more bread at dinner! Now you have to ask for another basket! That just ain’t right!”

Slowing my stroll across the Aft deck where the water slides are, I can’t help but notice his large belly is getting lots of sun but it casts a long shadow over his legs and feet.

Who knew the amount of bread consumed is the baseline for a positive cruise experience?

Resuming my climb up the long winding staircase to the top of the slide, I am proud to be a participating member of the Senior Class of kids shooting through the tube to make a big splash in the pool below.

“I’m gonna beat you old man,” says a kid on the slide beside mine.

“No way kid! I’m gonna kick your ass,” I calmly reply.

We’re off and because I weigh significantly more than his 12 year old body, I easily beat him to the bottom, make a bigger splash leaving him dripping as he begins contemplating physics for the very first time.  

Later standing in line for something to drink, a young man says to another, “I don’t like anybody from Texas.”

“I’m not from Texas,” replies the man waiting beside me.

“Yeah you are,” shoots back the young guy jabbing a finger at the letter “T” on the orange shirt the man’s wearing.

The man looks at me as I burst out laughing, standing there wearing my UGA tee shirt.

“Buddy I’m from Tennessee,” the man says.

Confused, the young man retreats to his original position, “Well, I still don’t like nobody form Texas.”

Shaking my head, I order a double.

“This is not relaxing,” says a mother stuffing endless amounts of food in the mouths of her two large Cherubs.

“Did you get me ice cream?” one asks finishing off a plate of bacon and a pancake.

“Not for breakfast,” the mother says.

Wiping syrup from his mouth, the large boy Cherub burst into tears.

“There is nothing relaxing about this,” the mother says as she heads towards the ice cream station.

Stumbling from our cabin to the Lido deck, I bypass the breakfast line and pour myself coffee.

“We sure did enjoy you dancing with your precious girls last night,” says a high pitched, squeaky southern accent.

Turning, I see a woman and her daughter pouring glasses of juice. They are both smiling, dressed in bathing suits with matching cover ups.

“Thank you,” I smile, remembering them seated at the bar while we danced after dinner.

“It was just precious,” she says as they wander away.

“THIS IS NOT RELAXING,” screams the mother of the two large Cherubs as she returns to her seat carrying large bowls of ice cream.

Helping her is a man wearing a baby blue shirt, yellow shorts, matching baby blue tube shocks and sandals.

I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

“SHUT UP KIDS,” the mother of the two large Cherubs yells. “WE FORGOT TO PRAY FIRST!”

“Dear Heavenly Father,” she says with one eye closed and the other on the two large Cherubs, “bless this food to our bodies …” as she slaps the hand of the large baby boy Cherub dipping his bacon in his ice cream.