Tuesday, March 27
How was your cruise?
It was so-so. Our goal was to see if the three mini-Blue Gals would enjoy cruising and in that regard we’re good. The deck-monkeys, as Cap’n Dyke
so lovingly calls them, did fine. And the childcare was excellent. I would go back on Carnival just for that.
It was a cheap cruise with mostly, you know, the masses on board. I was a little sad that I only saw two people actually reading a book (not counting myself) the entire four days, and one of those was my husband. The other had some thick paperback with a gun on the front.
If you haven’t been on a cruise before, I could give you lots of advice, but perhaps most important is the rule of inverse proportion of “class” to “glass”. You can’t be elegant with one of those stretched out beer steins, especially if they’re bright yellow and say “Federal Bureau of Intoxication” on them. Also, you don’t look more “Carribbean” if you add the umbrellas from your last three drinks to your current one. I also found it fascinating that on “formal night” the de rigeur habille was a backless black prom dress just perfect for showing off the sunburn straps across your back. (Isn’t there anything else we women of a certain age can put on for a night out? I mean, far be it from me to point out Sharon Stone as an example, but really.) Also fun to watch people who can’t walk a straight line on a moving ship, comparatively sober, and wearing flip flops, attempting to do so in high heels after drinking all afternoon. Very formal.
(I know, I know. D's right: heavy drinking, and yes, particularly in women, is just a trigger for me. That may be sexist, or it may be that I just keep thinking that WE should know better. I'll hang it up now. Sorry.)
In a way, my favorite entertainment on board was at dinner time. We didn’t have the kids with us and got to sit with a group of “girls only” vacationers. They were nice and having fun but it was funny to watch Mr. Blue Gal attempt pleasant chit-chat with four women, the most intelligent and accomplished of which was a flight attendant who couldn’t wait to retire, and who wanted to talk about exactly HOW she did her own eyeshadow. I mean, I’ve long suspected that some men choose the women they marry based on the question, “Okay, will a thirty-minute meal with her make me want to blow my brains out?” but yeah. Poor Mr. Blue Gal. Good thing at least as far as he is concerned, I still got that whole "intelligence is an aphrodisiac" mojo goin' on.
About the “Vegas style” floor shows: I give a lot of credit to the cruise ship entertainers. You’ve got to really want to be in show business to pay those kinda dues, and I say that without snark. So Mr. BG wanted to see just one show so we could say we did so the last night I’m sitting there in the Americana Lounge listening to some hoofers sing, and I am not making this up, “The Age of Aquarius,” and my 66-year-old husband is singing along to the music and that’s when I start looking for my stretched-out FBI beer stein. What the hell happened? I don’t pretend that the libretto (?) of the Broadway musical Hair is the anthem to any real social movement, but Jesu Christi. It’s okay. I know we lost the revolution. Off-topic? We’re gonna lose this one too, if we keep thinking that Nancy Pelosi and yes, even Barack Obama are going to lead us into one. But that’s another post.
Major thanks to qwerty for posting the YouTubes while I was gone. xoxoxo
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