A Little Departure

This entry is part 11 of 14 in the series Father and Son Cruise

Another snowstorm. Ho-hum. At least the temperature is high enough that it isn’t painful to go outside. Every winter we reach a low point and vow to move south. This year, that point came about 6 weeks earlier than usual. One of these years we’re actually going to take action…

Boston is remembering the 25th anniversary of the Great Blizzard of ’78. Everyone has been talking about where they were during the whole ordeal. I get dirty looks when I chime in to say that we lived on St. Thomas in ’78, and read about the whole thing in the San Juan Star

A little departure…

The end of the story is near. Before we get there, I wanted to share some video clips. Nothing fancy -– just some little things that contributed to the enjoyment.

Ryan finally got online and read the story-to-date. Now he calls all the time asking…

“Dad – When is the next chapter going to be up?”

“Not until you send me some pictures. Did you get them developed yet?”

“Naw. Nobody around here knows how to do black and white. I need to get back into school so I can use the lab.”

“Well, that’s the deal. I’ll write more when I get some pictures.”

Today, an envelope arrived with a few pictures inside. There’s always a way.


I think that Ryan’s appreciation of the trip is improving as the memories age. Maybe in his mind he can transport himself back on board, away from the bleak season. I do it all the time.

“I can’t believe you remember all that stuff.”

“Well, it’s been so long now that a lot of it is gone. I shouldn’t have waited.”

“Yeah, but when I read it, it all comes back to me. Chichen Itza was so cool.”


View from the top of the pyramid

It is getting harder to remember. Little snippets some and go. I forgot until now about the cocktail party on Wednesday night. It was the last formal night, and I ran up to the Navigator Club while Ryan finished getting ready for dinner. The room was absolutely packed with people in tuxes and gowns. I scoured the room looking for a seat.

Tucked into a corner, a young couple had sought shelter from the crowd. At their table were a couple of empty seats, the last in the whole place. The gentleman looked quite uncomfortable in his button-down shirt and corduroys. I suspect his discomfort stemmed not from being the only guy in the place not wearing a tux, but because for him, he was overdressed.

Still suffering my malaise, I was compelled to intrude.

“May I sit here?”

Two heads nodded.

We made our introductions. The man had a powerful grip, and I could tell he was being careful not to hurt me when we shook hands. The couple hailed from Pennsylvania. This was their first cruise, and they were clearly more than a little uncertain about their surroundings. I tried to be comforting, though try as I might, the conversation lagged. The man was pretty sure he’d been to New Hampshire once, to make a delivery of some sort.

A few minutes later the New Jersey crowd happened by, looking for someplace to sit. I spotted them and waved. Donna and Alison took the last two seats while the guys rounded up some drinks. The quiet refuge of the young couple was now completely violated.

Before too long, the table became one of the more conspicuous in the room. Loud conversation and laughter rose above the general din. One waitress had to dedicate her services to keep up with our demands. Soon enough the Pennsylvania couple joined in, unable to resist the fun – finally at ease with the lavishly costumed intruders.

Up on the dance floor, a little ceremony was held. Babette (ocngypz) was honored for her loyal repeat business.

I digress.

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