I was putting in a new tape when I heard it. A woman screamed like she was being murdered – a blood curdling scream. Within seconds, a whole group of people joined in, adding their own screams to the mix. Men’s and women’s screams created an odd harmony of panic and horror. I ran to the stern, still trying to load the camera. I expected the worst – someone must be seriously hurt.
“Do you want to sit at the Captain’s table tonight?”
“Ah, gee. Not really. Do we have to? Would it be rude if we didn’t?”
That settled it. “Yea. It would be rude. We have to do it”. I had violated my own rule about dealing with children, or anyone else for that matter. Never offer a choice when there is really only one answer.
Guided by that little piece of hard-earned wisdom, I said “We’re going to the Cruise Critic party at 11:30.”
With no options given, Ryan simply nodded.
I proceeded to unpack, but Ryan made no move to do likewise.
“Don’t you want to put your stuff away?”
“Nah, I’ll just leave it in the suitcase. It’s fine.”
I patiently pointed out that with the suitcase in the room, there was no room left to walk. Reluctantly, Ryan unzipped it and heaped the contents onto the bed.
“Welcome. May I have your tickets please?”
I handed over the booklet. The desk person examined it, and punched the reservation number into her computer. After looking at the screen a little too long for my comfort, she said “Welcome Mr. X. Would you mind stepping into that room over there please?”
Oh boy. Was it the suitcase again? Ryan and I walked the few steps into the adjoining room, which was furnished with a couple of tables, some chairs and a couch or two.
“What’s going on?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t know. No idea.”
This posting serves as a prologue to the second cruise story. The first cruise story, recounting our first-ever voyage, was posted serially on CruiseCritic.com over a 3-week period. More than 10,000 people awaited the posting of the final chapter, and the whole experience was wholly unexpected and quite a thrill. The unprecedented response to the that story (now in book form – What Time Is the Midnight Buffet?) motivated Celebrity Cruises to contact me and offer a free cruise in appreciation. We’ll begin with the events leading up to that event.
There are four stories in this series, and all were originally posted on CruiseCritic.com. One of the stories is now a book, and the other three are here for your enjoyment.
| The first story chronicled our inaugural cruise, a ten-day Caribbean jaunt aboard Celebrity’s Galaxy in celebration of our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. The response to this story was so overwhelming that Celebrity Cruises invited us to take a second trip, gratis. Eventually the story was released as a book, What Time Is the Midnight |
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“The doctor is available between five and six o’clock,” she said. “A few people have already signed up ahead of you, so you should probably come back around 5:30.”
“OK,” I said. “Put me on the list, please.”
The woman pointed to a sheet of paper on her desk. “Sign there, and write in your cabin number,” she said. “You’ll need to fill in these forms, too.” She handed me a clipboard and a pen, and resumed her chat with the wounded cyclists while I completed the forms.
Form design is tricky business, and I’ve always found the…
First, an admission—shopping is pretty far down on my must-do list of vacation activities. It seems to me that the retail world has become very generic—same stuff as the local mall in a different place. It is a small pleasure to find a unique store in exception to this trend, but vacations are meant for big pleasures—hence, shopping on vacation is reserved for those situations where it is all but inescapable. Such was the circumstance now.
Although the building housing The Dunes appeared fairly low and compact from the outside, inside was a different story. A profusion of stairs…
Kris quickly realized that I was not being impish. She had yet to witness one of my episodes, and it must have been obvious that I was in extreme discomfort.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“Hot towel,” I managed to croak.
Kris ran a hand towel under the faucet and brought it to me steaming hot. I hid my face beneath it. “Your left eye is swollen shut.”
“I know that,” I said.
“Should we go to the infirmary?” asked Kris.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“They’re all asleep,” I said. “This will be over in two hours. I’m…
“I signed up, but I’m not sure if I made the cut,” I said.
“Well, let’s take a look. Your name?”
“Mr. ‘X’,” I said.
“Cabin?”
“220”
The woman rifled through several pages, and then re-examined the top page of her list. “Oh, yes—here you are. Go right on in,” she said loudly. “He’s about to start.” I left about 200 hopefuls waiting in line and made for the entrance.
The theater was packed, but I spotted a small gap in the mass of people— near the center of the room on the aisle. When I got there I was…
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