“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.
