Generally, I enjoy Friday the 13th. Not so much today.
I was in Williamsburg for the week and came back to New York by train today. According to the schedule, our train left Williamsburg at 9:30 AM and would arrive in New York City at 5:10 PM, at trip of about 7 1/2 hours.
The train was one hour late arriving in Williamsburg, supposedly because of an engine problem that had been resolved. When we (finally) got on the train, we were informed that the train engine was still broken and that we'd have to get a new one in Richmond (about 1-2 hours down the tracks).
We stopped just short of the suburban Richmond station a couple of hours later. A conductor announced that the engineer and another guy had just left (!!!) the train to see about getting us a new engine up ahead. About 30 minutes later, it was announced that there was no new engine and that we would have to wait for a train coming up from further south. Then we would take their engine.
We pulled into Richmond. And sat. And sat. And sat. About every 20 minutes, there would be an announcement saying that the expected train would be arriving any minute now.
The train in question showed up after about 1.5 hours. We slowly got the engine connected to our train and moved on. About this time, I went to the snack car to get something to eat, as lunch time had come and gone. I was informed that all the food that remained on the train was one garden burger. Fortunately, there was also a package of cheese and crackers, so I did not have to resort to the vegetarian food. (Ick.)
Eventually we got moving. And made it to Washington, DC -- the big stop of the train. When we got there, the conductor announced that anyone traveling beyond New Haven, CT (the train was supposed to go to Boston) would have to get out in DC and go look for another train. The announcement concluded with the hope that Amtrak could find them something, maybe.
We also found out that our new engine was no longer useable, as trains north of DC run on electric, not diesel, as the engine we then had did. So we had to wait for yet ANOTHER engine to show up and get connected to our train. This procedure of course meant that the air conditioning in the train was turned off. Who needs air conditioning in a steel tube in 85 degree heat anyway?
The (now about 4 hour) delay of our train meant that the passengers who had been waiting in DC had long since been re-ticketed onto a different train. In order to fill up our remaining seats, Amtrak had the brilliant idea of sticking the passengers from two other trains onto ours. This made for a somewhat crowded train, although I heard it was even worse in business class, where they had oversold the seats.
The train left Washington DC at a little after 5 PM. 3.5 hours from New York at the time of the train's supposed arrival.
By the time we got to Baltimore, I was thirsty and stressed. Time for cheap wine from the cafe car! Unfortunately, however, the train had been replenished with food in DC. This meant that every person who had been denied food earlier, plus every person who had gotten on at the previous two busy stops, was in line. I waited for that glass of wine for over 40 minutes. Or, put another way, from Baltimore to Wilmington, DE.
Back at my seat, the train inched its way across the several states that separated us from New York. Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey passed by in unrapid procession. Eventually, a few hours after sunset and a full FIVE HOURS after our scheduled arrival time, we pulled into New York City.
Needless to say, I splurged on a cab for the ride home.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Hi anyone who clicked on the WIR link!
There's really nothing in this post. I just wanted to say hi if you clicked, you know, give you some reward for your effort. Not that this is much of a reward. But it wasn't much of an effort either. So it's fair.
That's all for now. But not forever. Because it's summer now! When I will, theoretically, have time for such things as blogs. Won't that be nice! :)
There's really nothing in this post. I just wanted to say hi if you clicked, you know, give you some reward for your effort. Not that this is much of a reward. But it wasn't much of an effort either. So it's fair.
That's all for now. But not forever. Because it's summer now! When I will, theoretically, have time for such things as blogs. Won't that be nice! :)
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Questions...
Why is it so easy not to work?
How come my roommates can never hear anyone knocking on the door, even though their rooms are closer to the front door, and they never play music like I do to drown out outside noise?
Should I move to Queens?
Would someone like to write my dissertation for me?
Why am I so freaked out about dreaming about a baby last night? Is that one of those biological alarm clock things?
Is the gym going to be busy later?
Why do I like chocolate so much?
Why does chocolate have to be bad for you?
When is my income going to actually match my lifestyle and interests?
Can anyone recommend a good book?
Why am I so amused by peeps when I don't like to eat them at all?
Who is going to win an Oscar tonight?
What are my chances of ever winning an Oscar?
Do I even want to?
What should I be when I grow up?
Is there a meaning to life?
Do I want to know what it is?
If I knew what it was, would I accept that meaning or would I do what I usually do and try to fight against that obvious meaning for years before suddenly realizing that it was inevitable?
Are prunes and dried plums the same thing?
Why do sugared nuts smell much better than they taste?
How much money do I have? Do I want to know, or is it too depressing?
How much time is wasted annually by blogging?
Will I ever find a guy worthy of falling in love with?
Will he ever find me?
How do people avoid clutter?
Why are rubber chickens funny?
How do you sing?
Why is it that I can remember miniscule details about completely worthless things, like commercials from my childhood and what I got for my 10th birthday, but can't remember people's names when I meet them?
If there were no internet, would I have two PhDs and a Pulitzer by now?
Why don't I love New York?
Is there a monster outside my window in the dark?
How do you get off mailing lists for political causes that you have neither the time nor the money nor the interest to support?
How do you donate to those organizations you do support without getting on the aforementioned mailing lists?
Can anyone answer my questions?
How come my roommates can never hear anyone knocking on the door, even though their rooms are closer to the front door, and they never play music like I do to drown out outside noise?
Should I move to Queens?
Would someone like to write my dissertation for me?
Why am I so freaked out about dreaming about a baby last night? Is that one of those biological alarm clock things?
Is the gym going to be busy later?
Why do I like chocolate so much?
Why does chocolate have to be bad for you?
When is my income going to actually match my lifestyle and interests?
Can anyone recommend a good book?
Why am I so amused by peeps when I don't like to eat them at all?
Who is going to win an Oscar tonight?
What are my chances of ever winning an Oscar?
Do I even want to?
What should I be when I grow up?
Is there a meaning to life?
Do I want to know what it is?
If I knew what it was, would I accept that meaning or would I do what I usually do and try to fight against that obvious meaning for years before suddenly realizing that it was inevitable?
Are prunes and dried plums the same thing?
Why do sugared nuts smell much better than they taste?
How much money do I have? Do I want to know, or is it too depressing?
How much time is wasted annually by blogging?
Will I ever find a guy worthy of falling in love with?
Will he ever find me?
How do people avoid clutter?
Why are rubber chickens funny?
How do you sing?
Why is it that I can remember miniscule details about completely worthless things, like commercials from my childhood and what I got for my 10th birthday, but can't remember people's names when I meet them?
If there were no internet, would I have two PhDs and a Pulitzer by now?
Why don't I love New York?
Is there a monster outside my window in the dark?
How do you get off mailing lists for political causes that you have neither the time nor the money nor the interest to support?
How do you donate to those organizations you do support without getting on the aforementioned mailing lists?
Can anyone answer my questions?
Monday, February 18, 2008
Did you find this one?
Wow.
Long blog posted earlier.
I didn't realize it was so long. Which is really kind of stupid, since it was something like 12 pages as a single-spaced Word document. I, however, tend to be kind of stupid that way. Oh well.
Anyway... I should blog now, shouldn't I? That's kind of the point. Right? I'm kind of new to this.
Topic, topic, topic... Herein lies the problem of starting a blog without a definite topic in mind. You get to the blog, and there is nothing to write about. I guess I will therefore take the easy cop-out and write about something in my life today.
Unfortunately, I have just realized that I didn't do anything interesting today. Humph. That sucks. So I guess I'll just make up a story instead.
Once upon a time, there was a Twinkie. It was a lovely Little Twinkie -- yellow as the Sun at midday, as symmetrical as you like, texture like the best in packing foam. Yes, the Little Twinkie had it all.
But this Little Twinkie wanted more. It saw the other snack cakes in the factory, and it began to feel the growing specter of jealousy arising in its creamy bosom. "Why can't I have a curly line of icing across my top?" the Little Twinkie asked. "What flavor is yellow?"
These questions consumed the Little Twinkie. Its turmoil disturbed the other Twinkies, who wisely knew that only hungry schoolchildren should consume Twinkies. After awhile, the Twinkies came to a sad decision. The Little Twinkie had to go. So the older Twinkies bade farewell to their young friend, packing it off with a handy cellophane wrapper for protection. The Little Twinkie got into the truck with a feeling of exhilaration -- it was going to find answers!
Time passed. The Little Twinkie didn't know how much time, sitting alone in the back of a dark truck. But the Little Twinkie knew that answers would soon be coming. When light once again entered into the Little Twinkie's world, its hope flared up. The Little Twinkie soon found itself in a well-lit building, surrounded by a bewildering variety of snack cakes and candies.
Often, people passed by. Some of them even stopped to visit with the Little Twinkie, but none of them stayed long enough for the Little Twinkie to get its questions answered.
Then, one day, a small boy came to the Little Twinkie. After considering the Little Twinkie for a short time, the boy carried the Little Twinkie away. "At last!" thought the Little Twinkie. "This boy can answer my questions!"
The boy and the Little Twinkie went together for lunch on the very next day. When the boy pulled the Little Twinkie out of his bag, the Little Twinkie said, "Boy! Do you know why I don't have a squiggly white line across my top? And what flavor is yellow?"
The boy looked at the Little Twinkie. "I dunno," he said.
And then he ate the Little Twinkie.
The End
Long blog posted earlier.
I didn't realize it was so long. Which is really kind of stupid, since it was something like 12 pages as a single-spaced Word document. I, however, tend to be kind of stupid that way. Oh well.
Anyway... I should blog now, shouldn't I? That's kind of the point. Right? I'm kind of new to this.
Topic, topic, topic... Herein lies the problem of starting a blog without a definite topic in mind. You get to the blog, and there is nothing to write about. I guess I will therefore take the easy cop-out and write about something in my life today.
Unfortunately, I have just realized that I didn't do anything interesting today. Humph. That sucks. So I guess I'll just make up a story instead.
Once upon a time, there was a Twinkie. It was a lovely Little Twinkie -- yellow as the Sun at midday, as symmetrical as you like, texture like the best in packing foam. Yes, the Little Twinkie had it all.
But this Little Twinkie wanted more. It saw the other snack cakes in the factory, and it began to feel the growing specter of jealousy arising in its creamy bosom. "Why can't I have a curly line of icing across my top?" the Little Twinkie asked. "What flavor is yellow?"
These questions consumed the Little Twinkie. Its turmoil disturbed the other Twinkies, who wisely knew that only hungry schoolchildren should consume Twinkies. After awhile, the Twinkies came to a sad decision. The Little Twinkie had to go. So the older Twinkies bade farewell to their young friend, packing it off with a handy cellophane wrapper for protection. The Little Twinkie got into the truck with a feeling of exhilaration -- it was going to find answers!
Time passed. The Little Twinkie didn't know how much time, sitting alone in the back of a dark truck. But the Little Twinkie knew that answers would soon be coming. When light once again entered into the Little Twinkie's world, its hope flared up. The Little Twinkie soon found itself in a well-lit building, surrounded by a bewildering variety of snack cakes and candies.
Often, people passed by. Some of them even stopped to visit with the Little Twinkie, but none of them stayed long enough for the Little Twinkie to get its questions answered.
Then, one day, a small boy came to the Little Twinkie. After considering the Little Twinkie for a short time, the boy carried the Little Twinkie away. "At last!" thought the Little Twinkie. "This boy can answer my questions!"
The boy and the Little Twinkie went together for lunch on the very next day. When the boy pulled the Little Twinkie out of his bag, the Little Twinkie said, "Boy! Do you know why I don't have a squiggly white line across my top? And what flavor is yellow?"
The boy looked at the Little Twinkie. "I dunno," he said.
And then he ate the Little Twinkie.
The End
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
6 Days of the Cruise...
For the possibly one person out there who is reading this but didn't go on the cruise in question:
I went on a cruise a couple of weeks ago. It was a music cruise, featuring my favorite band in the whole universe, Barenaked Ladies. This is the second time I had been on such a cruise. In between the two cruises, I spent many an hour on a message board devoted to the cruise. As a result, I "met" a whole bunch of people who would be cruising along with me. They feature prominently in what is to follow.
Not a week, alas, but six days ought to be enough fun and excitement for anybody. Right?
Well, we’ll see about that.
The fun and excitement that was Ships and Dip III began before the cruise. A whole day before. In a place we like to call the Courtyard by Marriott – Airport.
Saturday
I arrived, together with Nikki and Jackie, to the parking lot of the many Marriotts at the airport. It wasn’t too hard to find – only 3 or 4 u-turns and a few false stops in the parking lot on the way.
We went to check in. Actually, technically, I went to check in. Nikki and Jackie went to stand unobtrusively to the side and then sneak into my room so that they would not be homeless for the night. The friendly man at the desk told me that some of my party had already checked in (“two girls” was the information he would give). And then he gave me cookies!
The “two girls” were Michele and Amanda, having managed to arrive before me, despite having to trek down to Florida from the frigid wastelands of Quebec. We greeted each other. Much merriment ensued.
Time passed. Other hotel roommates arrived. Alcohol (2 liters of peach schnapps? really?) was purchased. Laundry was done.
And then? Then it was time for that most awesome of events, the Ships and Dip Pre-Party.
With Janie, one of the thousands of people sharing my two booked hotel rooms, at my side, I clambered through the ruins of what was once a nice hotel and what was now an post-apocalyptic, Arctic-temperature hallway. The journey, though perilous, was worth it as we began to partake of the merriment. In the form of a $7 cheeseburger. At least it was a good cheeseburger. We then waited for the hordes of easily-recognizable people who would soon be descending upon us for socialization and continued merriment.
They didn’t come.
After some time (and all of the cheeseburger), we did run across Willow, who was easily recognizable to me as she lives 13 blocks away from me in New York. But it was good to know that she made it to Florida without me. And it was good to meet her cruise roommates-to-be, including one Kristen, who illustrated her board identity of Yay4BNL by doing the chicken dance. Shortly thereafter, a friendly person walked up, said “Hi, I’m leprrkan!” and then disappeared into the faceless masses.
And that was all. For awhile. Then, fate and my cell phone intervened, as the final inhabitant of the hotel rooms, Brandy, had arrived and wanted, for some strange reason, to enter a hotel room. Despite some confusion as to the location of various Marriott front desks, we found each other. Bags were left. A return to the Pre-Party was accomplished.
Upon our return, the much longed-for recognition began to fly thick and fast across the mostly-abandoned pool. It began with a Jody-sighting. For a brief instant, she was at the bar. Then, FLASH, no Jody. We pondered the lightning speed of the NiceyDoodle, but were soon distracted by one Reaven and her Manny. Reaven might actually be called Casey, but I will choose not to dignify her with a real name. Since she didn’t manage to know who I was. At all. I mean, she had no idea that there could possibly be a poster named really_mzungu. Who had posted regularly. All year. Occasionally in response to her posts. With an easily-identifiable avatar photo…
Not that I’m bitter or anything.
My repeated insistence that I truly had posted on the message board was soon interrupted by the arrival of a person who did not look even remotely like a blue computer screen, accompanied by a person who did not look even remotely like a bottle of ketchup. They were, however, those known as Amicus and ketchup (or occasionally Sallie and Bob). Yes, I was one of the rare, privileged ones who met our exalted moderator. And then, I promptly forgot what she looked like.
I’m pretty sure I met someone else right then too. Whoever you are, I’m sorry, but my brain has chosen to censor you for some reason. If you do not deserve such censorship, please speak up and be reinserted into this narrative now.
Possibly my memory blanks can be attributed to the excitement of what happened next. No, I do not refer to the naked pool guy (although that did happen next and was quite amusing). I refer instead to spying, across the party, several people who looked strangely familiar, although far more three-dimensional than I expected. The ensuing moments were a blur. I remember some “really_mzungu” calls, some shrieks, and numerous hugs. And then I was in the midst of message board couples – those who I have privately been calling the YokoOnos (aka personal venus and Musical Genius, aka Bari and Mark) and the Doodles (aka NiceyDoodle and WildEagle, aka Jody and Andrew).
Yay!
There was conversation. There were photos. There was a rapid outing of the appliances, started by Andrew, which resulted in me being punched (ow!) by Bari.
Oh, and in case you missed it, I was Dishrack. Please don’t punch me.
Exhaustion and anticipation soon began to claim the partiers. Also, the hotel staff seemed to want us to leave for some reason.
So we left.
And I began to cough, only a little. Probably just allergies or something…
Sunday
The day had arrived. A day of joy. A day of promise. A day that had been eagerly waited by thousands for months and months. It was here.
Ships and Dip III would begin.
But first!
There was this marathon. Nothing against marathons, but what the peep?
We had had the bright idea to have Chris (Son_of_Ed) use his rental car to get the baggage and some of us passengers to the port early. That way, we wouldn’t have to pay for a shuttle, the luggage would get aboard early, and we could miss the lines sure to form slightly later in the day. Great ideas all, but only one would ever be realized. And it’s all because of the Stupid Elation Miami Marathon.
Having been to the port several times already, thanks to the Rock Boat, I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to get there again. I mean, of course they’d have a detour route to the port for departing passengers to use. And of course it would be well-signed so that those driving the departing passengers wouldn’t suffer the misfortune of driving forever until their heads exploded.
Of course not.
The first sign that there might be a problem should have been when we saw people with cruise-like luggage. Walking down the street toward the port. But we dismissed them like the idiots we were and continued to drive. Until we couldn’t. Until the police sent us the other way. Around and around and around in circles, spiraling our way through downtown Miami and yet never arriving at anything that might be considered a destination. We tried going the way one policeman suggested. No luck. We got back on the highway. Only good for going to the Florida Keys. We tried heading the completely wrong direction in the desperate hope that we would enter into a wormhole and be magically transported to the port that way. Nothing.
And then, somehow (I’m thinking magic or all the luck of the Irish), we were at the port.
Yay!
The correct terminal was located. The car was stopped. The bags were unloaded. Brandy and I were unloaded. The Stupid Elation hat was left on the floor. The porter was tipped. And Chris sped away into the bright tropical morning.
And then we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Meanwhile, all of the rest of the passengers, and I do mean all of them, arrived to board. Tacky tourists walked past, mingling with guitar-toting musicians (professionals and passengers). A friendly Carnival line-minder looked sympathetically at us as we yearned to join the ever-lengthening line at security. But it was not to be. For we did not possess the fabled FunPass that would gain us access to the ship. One of our other three roommates had that. And we also did not possess the intelligence to realize that we totally could have gotten on the ship without it and could have been sipping rum punches on the Lido Deck instead of standing around in the glaring sun getting more and more impatient as the day wore on.
But we were fools, and so we waited. After two hours, the wait was over. Well, not over, exactly. The wait for the roommates was over. And then the wait to board the ship began. The security line went quickly. We were then herded up the escalators, where apparently everyone else on the ship got to see and chat with a member of Barenaked Ladies. We didn’t. A much-bearded Steve did rush past at some point, but that was all the BNL we were going to get. Fortunately, our BNL-lessness didn’t have to wait too long as we were soon checked in and speeding toward our cabin and the promise of drinks with little umbrellas.
Food! Buffet lines filled with Harvey Danger band members! Fruity cocktails! Suddenly realizing that I did in fact have a cold! Muster drills! Thus, the first few hours on the ship passed.
After the muster drill, our confidence in surviving disaster at sea strong, we rushed for the Lido Deck, having thrown our lifejackets in the general direction of Chris and Michele. But what was this? A half-filled (or half-empty, if you’re a pessimist) Lido Deck? Concerned only for the balance of the boat, we immediately headed for the empty half of the deck. We made it to the sound booth before a very earnest ship person informed us that big, heavy pieces of equipment were being hurled over the closed-off side and that we should probably not get hit by said equipment. This was a good argument, so we only slowly edged into the parts of the danger zone that promised a good view of the stage. After much more equipment than they had told us about, the all-clear was given, and BNL fans surged like waves upon the beach across the previously-vacant deck. Good spots were gained. And all was good.
And then the concert. Oh, the concert! Sunshine, sailing away, rather loud ship’s whistles, and Barenaked Ladies! Plus, they played “Life, In a Nutshell,” which is probably unimportant to just about everyone who isn’t me. But those people don’t matter. Thus it was, in fact, the best BNL concert I’d seen all day. Up until that point anyway.
The concert ran over. This might have been a tragedy if I had even remotely cared, but more BNL is always good BNL. It did mean, however, that the message board party had to be rushed to afterwards. And rush I did, despite the fact that my BNL-based cold medicine had abruptly worn off with the end of the show, and I suddenly actually felt sick. No matter – the message board was, as is so often the case, my priority.
What a priority it was! People who were once just words in the flesh! Many of whom I had already met (see above, pre-party). Plus a few that I hadn’t. Excellent people, all of them, especially Charmed One, who has the distinction of buying me my first drink (sorry MG). The message board party was held in what was quite possibly the oddest of the many odd rooms on the Victory. The Ionian Bar, a designated place for smokers (so of course they’d stick the message board there?), with the coolest behind-the-bar murals pretty much ever.
The party continued with many pictures, many newly met people (including some, like drumgroovy, who didn’t really speak to me ), and much conversation. About halfway through I did realize that, in my haste to arrive, I had totally forgotten my 135-page booklet containing all thirty-whatever Weeks in Review. So I left to get it. Because I must show off. Whenever possible. Of course, a noisy bar full of excited people walking around is perhaps not the absolute best venue for the touting of a book, but whatever. It’s not like I was going to walk around with the thing all week.
Alas, after some time, the party began to wind down. And with that winding down came my own winding down. It’s interesting how one tends to feel significantly worse as the cold medicine (the real stuff, not the BNL pick-me-up) wears off. Despite a few more drink offers (sorry MG), it was time to collapse in the cabin.
About the cabin. If someone ever tells you that a 5-person cabin is a valid, sensible way to save money on a cruise, they’re lying. A 5-person cabin is steerage. Like on the Titanic. No room for luggage. No room for the beds. No room to walk across the floor without stepping on a roommate. I hated that cabin.
Fortunately, I did not have to stay there long, since there was many an activity still to come that evening. Due to the much-aforementioned feeling like sh*t, I skipped several of the concerts that evening. But nothing, and I do mean nothing, was going to keep me away from the BNL Double Dippers show.
Good choice. When else am I likely to hear my favorite band perform at least reasonable approximations of some of their most obscure songs (Really Don’t Know? wow…)? And with no preparation whatsoever. If I had been them, that bucket would have been thrown out in terror within minutes. And yet, they persevered, playing song after cruel song. No One Week or anything! Yes, they may have cheated a wee bit, but why not use a lyrics book, if one of your fans is so considerate as to bring it along.
This BNL show, like all that have come before and all that are to come, eventually had to end. Two concerts in one day… If there was such a thing as too much BNL, that might be it. Thank goodness that this is not possible!
Following the concert, many other people went to later shows or to party. Me? I went to bed, feeling certain that a good night’s sleep was all I really needed to get better and rock out the rest of the cruise.
Monday
The day didn’t exactly begin early – it was a cruise, after all! Why get up at the crack of dawn? At least not until a shore excursion day… And Monday was a day at sea. Nothing to bother my rest. Except of course for the evilest of room stewards, Eben. Stupid Elation Eben. Among my many, many complaints about this man may be his insistence that we should have already been up at 9 AM every day. Sigh…
Not much happened in the morning. I attempted to figure out where things were on the ship. That didn’t work too well. But I was certain that I would have the whole deck plan memorized within a few short days. How hard could it be? Hard, apparently. I did, however, find the Lido Deck in time to take off all of my clothes and play a kazoo in the morning sun. After a little dressing, it was off to the dining room for my first formal meal of the cruise – lunch. Pity that there’s no chocolate melting cake that early in the day… Not that I would have gotten to eat it, since I had to run before the dessert ever made an appearance. According to Brandy, I didn’t miss anything in the dessert I had to forgo anyway.
Why did I have to leave? What possible activity could there have been on this night-oriented ship at 1 PM? The Kids CD Listening Party, of course. Not that I’m a kid. And not that I have a kid. And not that I have any close relationship with a kid who might benefit from such an event. Fortunately, I had arranged to borrow a kid, just for this event. The lovely Snow Leopard and mommyand3 (Doug and Tammy in reality) had a spare, and so I was graced with the loan of their firstborn, Devon. Who got me in the door and then promptly dumped me for his much cooler friends.
Whatever. I was in and was soon treated to what might just be the greatest children’s song album in the history of the universe. The only sad part is that I have to wait another 4-5 months before I get to hear “7,8,9” again… And then I suppose I might have to justify to some cultureless people why exactly I need to buy an album aimed at children. Philistines…
The rest of the day was pretty much devoted to wandering. Up, down, in strange and unexpected circles… Thus, the Victory. After a few hours, I was still completely lost. I did also manage to get my door decorations up, which was helpful in finding my own cabin at least.
Brandy and I had been planning on seeing Carbon Leaf that evening, but that was not to be. Instead, we, dressed in our greeny finest, found some message board types with whom to dine. Such a table! Myself, Brandy, WildEagle, NiceyDoodle, Ellen from Saint Louis and her Codger, Musical Genius, and personal venus. Spoons dangled from noses, many lobsters were consumed, MG finally succeeded in purchasing a drink for me, Finchy appeared (looking exactly as I had pictured him, by the way), Kermit strolled by, the waiters danced… Who needs a concert when one can have all this?
And it all ended with Warm Chocolate Melting Cake…
When there was no more chocolatey goodness to be had for that night, it was time to experience the much-anticipated Great Big Sea. Oh my… We opted for balcony seats, due to my weakened condition, which were probably a good choice. However exciting the floor may have been, I am fairly certain that I would have collapsed with all that dancing and vertical movement. As it was, I’m fairly certain that I’ve never bounced so much in a seat before…
I had originally thought to stay for Guster, but it was pointed out to me that I was not likely to ever hear the songs of Paul McCartney in loving tribute again, should I miss a certain concert that night. So across the ship we went, up and down several decks in the process, to the Adriatic Lounge where Steven Page and Sean Nelson were ready to amaze us. There were no seats, of course, but the floor was quite lovely and almost disturbingly close to the stage. The show was indeed one-of-a-kind, but most of what I took away from the whole thing was that I really don’t know the music of Paul McCartney so well. I think I only recognized one song all night…
There were other shows that night. There was more partying that night. But for me, there was only sleep that night. And cough syrup. Early the next morning, I would have to be a pirate, and a girl needs her beauty sleep for something like that!
Tuesday
Tuesday dawned far too early. Before dawn, in fact. Why exactly did Carnival hate me so? Why did they think that I wanted to catch a 7:15 tender to Grand Cayman in order to pretend to be a pirate for the day? Why?
The insanely early start time did lend itself well to a spectacular Caymanian sunrise. And to a mad dash through the many floors of the Caribbean Lounge, desperately looking for something that resembled the assembly point for the tenders. Said assembly point was eventually found, moments before we were herded away to the tender point. The tender wasn’t as bad as I’d been fearing after all the tender horror stories we’d been hearing about. It was just a smallish, smelly boat with uncomfortable seats. But we were quickly ashore, eagerly anticipating our adventure.
But when we got to shore? Not a pirate to be seen. It’s not like I was expecting Johnny Depp or something (Orlando Bloom would have been more than adequate), but there was no one resembling a pirate anywhere. Other than the Carnival photo guy, of course. Who just didn’t do it for me somehow.
In the absence of piratey folk, we waited. Brandy and I were soon joined by several dozen touristy people, a few of whom were even from the Legend! Still a cool ship, although nowhere near as cool as it once was… We were also joined by Mari and Doug, my official excursion buddies for the cruise.
After many minutes of agonizing wait, a completely non-pirate-like person led us to another of those tender boats. Which fortunately took us to a real live pirate ship! Really! Full of real pirates! Honest. It’s what I insist on telling myself anyway, so no arguments on this.
They weren’t Johnny Depp, but our pirates at least approached that great man’s caliber. And they made all the kids onboard swab the deck. With toothbrushes.
After a few thoroughly satisfactory canon shots at the Victory, the pirates made us walk the plank. Granted, they made us walk the plank while wearing life jackets, which diluted the experience somewhat, but still. Ah, the Caribbean waters… So warm, so pretty, so teeming with fishies and other scary things that Brandy, Mari, and I did a very good job ignoring the existence of.
Back on the pirate ship, it was finally time for my rum punch. I’d been up for hours, and it was so very much time for booze. There’s nothing like a little rum to start your day off right! And there’s nothing like being recognized from your avatar (by the equally early-boozing Sarah (See the Sound)) to start your ego off right!
The pirates very (uncharacteristically for pirates) thoughtfully dropped us off back in Georgetown, where we all decided that 10:30 was plenty late enough for lunch. At that cultural mecca known as the Hard Rock Café – hey, it’s not like any of the other restaurants were any better!
We walked around a bit after that, gawking at the cars going the wrong way and the business-suited men expertly dodging the tourists. Odd place, Grand Cayman. But nice, I suppose. The whole place just made me want to sit on a beach with a cool drink.
Maybe I would have too, but the dreaded Death Cold decided that was a bad idea. So we tendered our way back to the Victory. Not much going on on that boat when everybody’s off on an island, but it sure was nice not to have to wait in any sort of line for the tender!
Then it was time for Great Big Sea. After a few hours anyway. But I can’t remember what actually happened during those few hours, so we’ll pretend that they didn’t exist. OK? Good. So, it was time for Great Big Sea and for free drinks, courtesy of the Captain’s Party. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm… We were on the Lido Deck plenty early enough to have been right up front for this concert, but the Death Cold would have none of it. So we just dragged a couple of chairs to the edge of the pool behind the stage. It is quite possible that these were not the ultimate fan seats for the show, as we weren’t all that close to the stage and only got to see the back sides of Great Big Sea throughout the performance. But it did OK for the GBS-newbies that Brandy and I were. Plus, it afforded easy access to the waiters with free drinks. We even got a glimpse of the bespeedoed Ed, as he joined in the merriment (I almost missed this, since I had not yet noticed that there were bathrooms close to the stage and had wandered to the other end of the deck for the facilities as a result. But I got back in time, so it’s OK.).
Like all good things, Great Big Sea came to an end. So I donned my sweater and headed back into the icy bowels of the ship (side note: why was the air conditioning turned up so high? I know most of us came from cold places to go on the cruise, but weren’t we trying to escape the cold? Not reenact it… Stupid Elation air conditioning.).
To do something. Which I am sure was very entertaining.
But which will not be recounted here. Instead, time for dinner again! This time with Shell and Patty! And more Warm Chocolate Melting Cake!
Fortunately, scheduling for this evening allowed for both Chocolate Melting Cake and Carbon Leaf to be enjoyed. And enjoyed they were, even if my camera did decide that no good Carbon Leaf photos would ever be taken by me. You’d think I would have gotten one or two, wouldn’t you? Oh well. The music was good. As were the cat ears on a certain lead singer…
And then it was time for the main event of the day, the BNL show! This was my “extra” show, technically, received for referring a new passenger. Which meant that I got the worst seats in the house. Fortunately, this was the Caribbean Lounge, in which the worst seats are about ten times better than the best seats in most houses. Brandy and I were allotted seats in the middle of Row Q. It only went to Row S, so that should give you an idea of where we were. Fortunately, Row Q was pretty much empty. As was a fair amount of Rows P, O, and N. Which meant that we ended up with a huge amount of space and a clear line of sight over the soundboard. With the arrival of the always-welcome Kate and Eric into Row S right behind us, we had the makings of a true BNL party (helped, of course, by my bottle of rum-enhanced ginger beer…). So we danced. And danced. And contemplated things that could be thrown at the drunken people at the end of our row who felt the need to loudly converse throughout the entire performance (WTP???).
Then, it all ends, after one measly little encore. The crowd applauds thunderously, but, alas, the lights come back on. It was over. But, wait! The crowd continues their thunderous approval as the minutes tick on and the yellow-shirted security folk begin to look anxious. And then? Then, the lights go out. Barenaked Ladies reappear. “When I Fall” is played. And I realize that I could die happy, should that be the Death Cold’s next move…
Well, I didn’t die (not yet anyway, but with this cold, I’m not counting on anything…). But I did go to bed. Much entertainment was missed, but the tepid allure of my despised cabin (now containing several sick roommates, thanks to the contagion) was too strong. True partying would have to wait until the next day…
Wednesday
Jamaica! That lush, beautiful island that actually is what I dream the Caribbean should be! Seriously, if I had to pick an island to visit twice in eight days, it would always be Jamaica.
Although not the Ochos Rios secondary cruise ship pier. That place is scary. Rusty old buildings, strange topiaries, a long walk to nowhere. Not that I noticed, since it was again ridiculously early in the morning (what is it with Carnival and the early excursions?) and I was on my way to the fulfillment of a childhood dream.
I was going to swim with dolphins.
Did you ever read a book by Madeleine L’Engle called A Ring of Endless Light? If so, then you might just understand why I got completely obsessed with dolphins when I was about 12. The obsession did fade with time, but there was always a lingering adoration for these creatures. So when Jamaica brought about the chance to swim with a dolphin for a mere $160 or so, I jumped at the chance. It’s not like I was being financially sensible while going on a cruise anyway…
Along with my regular excursion compatriots, Mari and Doug, I arrived at the dolphin cove. I was extremely pleased to see that the dolphin area, while cut off from the open ocean, was at least real sea water. I had been a little nervous that it would be a Sea World-type tank, which would totally detract from the experience. Mari and I were quickly sorted into the “Skye” group (Doug was there solely to photograph the experience) and sent to the dock. After only a few short anticipatory minutes, life jackets were donned and into the water we went.
Turns out that “Skye” was actually “Mitch,” the horny boy dolphin. First we got to pet Mitch as he swam by. Then there were some splashing antics. Next, a kiss from Mitch. Very cool, although a little unnerving when you realize exactly how big and powerful dolphins actually are. Also, I’m not sure if it was the training or if Mitch really was horny, but that dolphin definitely gave more love to the ladies. Not that I’m complaining. I figured that the kiss was the cap to the experience (people had warned me that dolphin swims were notoriously short and lacking in much contact), but that was not the case. We got to pet Mitch a few more times. And then we got to ride him. I rode a dolphin!!! Yay! My inner adolescent is still jumping up and down and shrieking about this! Mitch swam on his back with the rider holding on to the side fins. Totally fun.
Alas, the fun had to end eventually. We were all to soon ushered out of the water and over to the gift shop, where the photos were readily available. Tourist trap or not, I instantly bought $50 of photos and have yet to regret it. I also got to show off my beloved camera to one of the Jamaican photographers. Always fun.
The dolphin cove definitely began to lose a little of its excitement once we were out of the water, so we headed up to the buses. Which were only going to Dunn’s River Falls, the obligatory tourist stop for all who come to this part of Jamaica. You were supposed to strip down to bathing suits and water shoes and then climb the falls. But we were lazy, newly dried off people who were having none of it. We therefore just wandered about on the riverside paths, marveling at giant, freaky spiders and strings of wet tourists. Among those wet tourists were Jody, Andrew, and Michele, who made me perfectly happy to not be climbing up the falls right about then.
An hour or so later, we’d had our fill. Cleverly detouring around the craft market and having already taken our tacky pictures with the donkey, we quickly made it to the buses. The next stop was town, where they expected us to tourist shop ‘til we dropped. Having none of it, we went to lunch. It was a nice place to look at – a covered porch looking out on the main drag of Ochos Rios (home of the legless beggar man), cold beer, and jerk chicken. And only jerk chicken. Seriously, this place had a two-page menu, listing a wide variety of meats and seafood cooked in many ways. But all they actually had was jerk chicken.
This made me very happy.
After lunch, Mari and Doug decided to take advantage of our shopper-friendly location, while I decided to head over to tourist central for some ice cream. Good ice cream. Much better than the “real Bob Marley experience” I was offered on the way over. The ice cream didn’t last so long, as is typical of ice cream, even when one is interrupted by Melissa and Ed and by the tropical downpours that make Jamaica so lovely. Soon, it was time to head back to the ship. Not wanting to deal with a cab, I walked back. So what was up with the boys whose heads popped up over the bank? I’m not sure I want to know. Especially since it was otherwise a truly nice day.
Back on the Victory, it was time for more wandering and waiting for the music to restart. Not a very exciting afternoon – I was actually bored for the first time! Unfortunately, my boredom was not to be alleviated by Oakhurst, who were quickly rained out (although I heard rumors that their show continued elsewhere, I didn’t catch it).
But that was OK, because Wednesday evening was to be jam-packed. First, there was dinner and Warm Chocolate Melting Cake. Then there was Rock Band. Now, I’m not much of a video game person. In fact, the only video game system I’ve ever owned was a Colecovision that my parents bought for us in 1986, shortly before the system was discontinued. We had Donkey Kong – a game I never got good at. So I had never played Rock Band before. I hadn’t expected to particularly want to play Rock Band before. I was wrong. Rock Band is amazing! I want Rock Band! Now I just need to figure out which system has it and how I can possibly justify it’s purchase. Not that I was all that amazing at the game – I played the drums on Easy and can only brag that I did make it through on my first try.
But it was so much fun!!!
Waiting around for Rock Band made Brandy and I a little bit late for Harvey Danger. I don’t think we missed all that much though, so it’s OK. I had seen them before, so I thought that I wouldn’t be too surprised. Silly me. An almost a capella, no microphone rendition of Pike St./Park Slope (my absolute favorite Harvey Danger song) may have been one of the greatest surprises of a cruise that was full of such surprises. Sean Nelson may look like the most bullied kid on the playground, but his voice can take us all down.
Unlike 90% of the people in the Caribbean Lounge, we got up to leave at the end of Harvey Danger, forgoing the joys of Guster to get a chance to see the Vanity Projects up on the Lido Deck. Hardest decision of the cruise, that was. Fortunately, the weather chose to help us out, bringing enough wind to shut down the outdoor stage for the evening. The Vanity Projects were to be moved elsewhere, where they would start late. Guster, here we came!
Before Guster, however, our path took us to the Atrium overlook, where we heard the sweet sounds of the Brothers Creeggan echoing up to us. Dancing was obligatory, and so we did (Brandy, who can actually dance, may have beat me at this…). A song or two later, and it was time to head down to their level. In the glass elevators. Glass elevators are good for dancing. So we danced. All the way down from the Lido Deck to the Lobby. And then back up. And then back down. Silly maybe, but when are you going to be silly if not on a cruise?
The Brothers Creeggan show ended shortly after our arrival, and I soon had my only real BNL conversation of the week with Jim (who we trapped at the only exit from the Atrium stage). It’s strange how my favorite member of Barenaked Ladies tends to be the one I talked to most recently… Strange, but cool.
After this, there was nowhere to go but Guster. So we went. Guster was, as always, a whole lot of fun. I had been a little concerned about seeing Guster without the Thundergod, since I tend to spend all of every Guster show marveling at Brian’s resemblance to Animal from the Muppets. Tyler, however, pulled it off. He may have lacked Brian’s insane drumming style, but he made up for it in the wisecracks and the enthusiasm. I actually think that Tyler may have been making up for always having to play third fiddle to Ed and Steve during BNL shows or something. That must be hard…
We left Guster a little early, wanting to arrive at the Vanity Projects in time for a good seat. Little did we know that our information was somewhat faulty. The Vanity Projects had finished a good ¾ of their set before we even got there! Oh well. At least I got to hear “Baby Loves the Radio” before bed.
Bed. Unlike every other night on the cruise, I was actually feeling energetic enough that night to consider not heading straight to bed as soon as possible. Granted, I was a little tired by the end of the Vanity Projects, but I wasn’t about to give in. Up I went to the Lido Deck, where a little late night pizza awaited my arrival. As did Nikki, Jackie, Leigh, and her husband. There was a little munching and a little appliance talk. And then it was, in fact, time for bed.
Thursday
The last day. Sigh. Had to come eventually, but that doesn’t really lessen the sadness of it. Fortunately, I am a master of ignoring the unpleasant and having fun anyway. So the day still got to be good!
I got to sleep in a bit on Thursday. Not much, but a lot more than I would have on say, a shore day. No more 7 AM departures for me! There was far too much of that for a vacation. Anyway, my morning began at the almost-reasonable hour of 10:30, when I went to go see what the Tour Photographer dude, David Bergman, had to say about how to take kickass concert photos. He had a lot to say, as it turned out. With slides. Shocking for a photographer, I know. But they were cool pictures. Almost made up for the fact that I didn’t really understand anything much at all about the technical aspects of the photos. One of these days, I will take the time to figure out how my camera works, but Thursday was not this day. I actually had to leave the photo seminar a little early, since the Death Cold decided to visit an uncontrollable attack of the coughing upon me. Bleah. Although the picture has not appeared anywhere public, there may even be a photo of me during this coughing, thanks to the paparazzi-stylings of one FastEddie.
At this point, a sensible person would have realized it was lunchtime and acted accordingly. I am not a sensible person. So I just went straight to the Songwriters’ Panel. I went there so straight, in fact, that I didn’t even notice that there was no one checking for tickets at the door. This technically didn’t matter, since I had a ticket, but still. As was typical for this cruise, I immediately ran into Kate and Eric upon my entry into the Caribbean Lounge. They, braving the contagion of the Death Cold, invited me to join them. Which I did.
Briefly. I realized shortly after this that I was in fact a little hungry. And more than a little thirsty, since it was after noon and I hadn’t had my first adult beverage of the day! Moving quickly to remedy this horrid situation, I headed for the gelato bar, which had been taunting me with its creamy goodness for days at this point. Some might say that gelato does not make for a healthy lunch, but those some are losers who want to spoil my cruise. They are to be ignored. I also purchased a Coke, with the full intention of heading back to the Panel, where a small bottle of rum in Kate’s bag had been offered earlier.
My plans, however, were to be thwarted by the Evil Door Person. It seems that in my absence, Sixthman had realized that they should probably do the ticket-checking thing. As I had my ticket, as I mentioned before, I figured that this was not a problem and proceeded to walk in the door. But then. The Evil Door Person struck. She informed me that she didn’t think I could bring food or drink into the Caribbean Lounge. When I mentioned that they served drinks regularly in the Caribbean Lounge, she amended the prohibition to food alone. When I added that people had been eating in there all week (including the guy I had seen eating a sandwich earlier that day), she reiterated that she thought it wasn’t allowed. Then she decided to check on her position and radioed someone else to ask about food. That person didn’t know. So she radioed another person. Who also didn’t know. Eventually, they had to call the head of Sixthman, who also didn’t know. After several radio calls, while I stood there, melting gelato in hand, the Evil Door Person finally found someone else who was pretty sure that I couldn’t bring food into the Lounge. I was summarily sent away to gulp down my expensive dessert in the few remaining minutes before the start of the panel. Kind of ruined the whole gelato experience for me.
It is fortunate that I eat ice cream quickly at times, because the Songwriters’ Panel started a little early. I did make it back before then, and assuaged my annoyance by the liberal application of Jamaican rum to Coke (thanks Kate!). I was then ready to enjoy eight or so singer-songwriters show off their great music. And it was great! My guilt at not catching a Jason Plumb or Sarah Harmer set (stupid Elation Death Cold) was somewhat mitigated by getting to hear them both during this. Also, “Kittens in a Bag” by Boothby Graffoe may just be the funniest and wrongest thing I have ever heard in my life.
The Songwriter’s Panel was supposed to be over by 3, giving me ample time to run up to the Lido Deck for Harvey Danger. Then, they just decided to go long. Sometimes, the cruise just totally rocks! An extra 45 minutes of songwriting goodness for us all!
Eventually, it did have to end, so to the Lido Deck I went. Where I was immensely pleased to find out that Harvey Danger would be starting late, almost as if they planned it all out for me. To make things even better, there wasn’t much of a crowd yet, so I got to stand right up against the stage. I never get to stand that close! I was joined by Nikki and Jackie soon after, thus even giving me friends to hang out with through the concert.
It was a good concert – nice sun, fun people, wonderful songs. Even if Jackie was under the serious misapprehension that it was all about her. No Jackie. Once again, it’s all about me! You just need to understand this!
The day passes by so quickly! When Harvey Danger was over, it was just about dinner time. As it was the last day of the cruise, my roommates and I were planning to have the final dinner together. And to drink the bottle of champagne we’d been eyeing in the room all week. A good roommate would have headed directly to the cabin to be in plenty of time for dinner. But I’m not a good roommate. I’m a roommate whose lunch had been a small amount of gelato and a rum and Coke. I’m a roommate who wanted sushi. Mmmmm… Sushi…
After the sushi, I did force myself to go back to the cabin, aka the claustrophobic box full of sick people (granted, the sick people were pretty much my fault). I didn’t have to stay long though, since it was time for our assigned seating at the Atlantic Dining Room. Dinner went well – champagne and Warm Chocolate Melting Cake! Also, the waiters kindly performed If I Had $1,000,000 for our pleasure (granted, in the other dining room, this was accompanied by Steve and Ed dancing on a table…). These things a good dinner make.
Responsible people would have packed after dinner. I am not responsible people.
Instead, I went up to the Lido Deck for a little Great Big Sea. Wonderful, as always. But there were other shows to see that night! Brandy and I opted for Gaelic Storm, a band that I hadn’t managed to see all week. Which totally sucks, since they are great in concert. They didn’t disappoint that night either, even though we only managed to stay for a few songs. We would have stayed longer, but you’ve got to have priorities in this life. And my priority that night was the BNL show.
Yes, I may have seen them 3 other times during the week. But there can never be too much BNL. And I was supposed to have good seats/standing room for this one!
They were pretty good seats. I, however, had aspirations for better (than the second row – yes, I am never satisfied) and edged out of the row and toward the stage. Not a bad location in the end, although I did end up behind a whole mess of tall people. And not just tall people – tall people known to the band, which means I got absolutely no eye contact that night. Sigh… So spoiled… I shouldn’t complain though, since the tall people in question, especially Kristen and Rena, were incredibly considerate with making sure I could see between them or over shoulders. Most tall people aren’t so good about this!
Oh, and the show was good. Of course. But this one was especially good, with all sorts of craziness. They let Devon, my pseudo-kid from the CD listening party!, up on stage to play drums for The Old Apartment (he rocked! I was so pseudo-proud! ). After a casual mention of the phrase “trust me,” they went and played “Trust Me.” Steve finished the show in a queen-sized green dress with a feather boa. It’s true that you never know what’s going to happen… on the cruise-ah!
All too soon, yet another amazing show was over. The end of the cruise seemed imminent. Sigh… We went back to the cabin, where a little packing was in order. How sad. Michele and Chris just plain gave up and headed to the Lido Deck for libations. Brandy and Amanda passed out. A sensible person would have followed suit. But again, I am not so sensible.
As soon as a reasonable amount of packing had been accomplished, I therefore headed to the Lido Deck, where I was determined to make it to the end of the Acid Wish last-night-of-the-cruise jam session. The jam session was very much in full swing by the time I arrived, with roughly every single artist on the cruise sharing the stage and just about every rock song of the past 40 years. I was especially impressed by Bartles, with his interesting choice of attire (how did he change so fast anyway?). I wandered around the Lido Deck, running into all sorts of people (including the ever-so-cool Devon and his dad Doug). I then spotted a few friends at the bar. The type of friends who buy me drinks – the best friends. A certain T.B.A. was especially friendly in this way (mmmmm… buttery nipple shots…). There was a great deal of drinking and dancing with many people at this point.
And the music continued. After awhile, we noticed that there were some lights on the horizon. Closer inspection revealed, to our horror, that it was the Miami skyline rapidly approaching in the early, early morning sky. Not a good sign for those of us desperate for the cruise not to end. The insanity of the jam session was continuing, but soon that had to end too, when the crew informed them that they had to stop.
I did hang around for a little while after this, hoping for a last signature on a postcard, but then it was indeed time for bed. Although why I bothered at 5 AM, I have no clue. I should’ve just headed for the Casino Bar with the other people crazy enough to still be up at this point. It probably wouldn’t have made too much difference in how I felt in the “morning.”
But I was not thinking of that right then. So I went to bed.
And, all too soon, it was Friday.
Nothing good, nothing at all, happened on Friday.
It is therefore here that the story of Ships and Dip III ends.
I went on a cruise a couple of weeks ago. It was a music cruise, featuring my favorite band in the whole universe, Barenaked Ladies. This is the second time I had been on such a cruise. In between the two cruises, I spent many an hour on a message board devoted to the cruise. As a result, I "met" a whole bunch of people who would be cruising along with me. They feature prominently in what is to follow.
Not a week, alas, but six days ought to be enough fun and excitement for anybody. Right?
Well, we’ll see about that.
The fun and excitement that was Ships and Dip III began before the cruise. A whole day before. In a place we like to call the Courtyard by Marriott – Airport.
Saturday
I arrived, together with Nikki and Jackie, to the parking lot of the many Marriotts at the airport. It wasn’t too hard to find – only 3 or 4 u-turns and a few false stops in the parking lot on the way.
We went to check in. Actually, technically, I went to check in. Nikki and Jackie went to stand unobtrusively to the side and then sneak into my room so that they would not be homeless for the night. The friendly man at the desk told me that some of my party had already checked in (“two girls” was the information he would give). And then he gave me cookies!
The “two girls” were Michele and Amanda, having managed to arrive before me, despite having to trek down to Florida from the frigid wastelands of Quebec. We greeted each other. Much merriment ensued.
Time passed. Other hotel roommates arrived. Alcohol (2 liters of peach schnapps? really?) was purchased. Laundry was done.
And then? Then it was time for that most awesome of events, the Ships and Dip Pre-Party.
With Janie, one of the thousands of people sharing my two booked hotel rooms, at my side, I clambered through the ruins of what was once a nice hotel and what was now an post-apocalyptic, Arctic-temperature hallway. The journey, though perilous, was worth it as we began to partake of the merriment. In the form of a $7 cheeseburger. At least it was a good cheeseburger. We then waited for the hordes of easily-recognizable people who would soon be descending upon us for socialization and continued merriment.
They didn’t come.
After some time (and all of the cheeseburger), we did run across Willow, who was easily recognizable to me as she lives 13 blocks away from me in New York. But it was good to know that she made it to Florida without me. And it was good to meet her cruise roommates-to-be, including one Kristen, who illustrated her board identity of Yay4BNL by doing the chicken dance. Shortly thereafter, a friendly person walked up, said “Hi, I’m leprrkan!” and then disappeared into the faceless masses.
And that was all. For awhile. Then, fate and my cell phone intervened, as the final inhabitant of the hotel rooms, Brandy, had arrived and wanted, for some strange reason, to enter a hotel room. Despite some confusion as to the location of various Marriott front desks, we found each other. Bags were left. A return to the Pre-Party was accomplished.
Upon our return, the much longed-for recognition began to fly thick and fast across the mostly-abandoned pool. It began with a Jody-sighting. For a brief instant, she was at the bar. Then, FLASH, no Jody. We pondered the lightning speed of the NiceyDoodle, but were soon distracted by one Reaven and her Manny. Reaven might actually be called Casey, but I will choose not to dignify her with a real name. Since she didn’t manage to know who I was. At all. I mean, she had no idea that there could possibly be a poster named really_mzungu. Who had posted regularly. All year. Occasionally in response to her posts. With an easily-identifiable avatar photo…
Not that I’m bitter or anything.
My repeated insistence that I truly had posted on the message board was soon interrupted by the arrival of a person who did not look even remotely like a blue computer screen, accompanied by a person who did not look even remotely like a bottle of ketchup. They were, however, those known as Amicus and ketchup (or occasionally Sallie and Bob). Yes, I was one of the rare, privileged ones who met our exalted moderator. And then, I promptly forgot what she looked like.
I’m pretty sure I met someone else right then too. Whoever you are, I’m sorry, but my brain has chosen to censor you for some reason. If you do not deserve such censorship, please speak up and be reinserted into this narrative now.
Possibly my memory blanks can be attributed to the excitement of what happened next. No, I do not refer to the naked pool guy (although that did happen next and was quite amusing). I refer instead to spying, across the party, several people who looked strangely familiar, although far more three-dimensional than I expected. The ensuing moments were a blur. I remember some “really_mzungu” calls, some shrieks, and numerous hugs. And then I was in the midst of message board couples – those who I have privately been calling the YokoOnos (aka personal venus and Musical Genius, aka Bari and Mark) and the Doodles (aka NiceyDoodle and WildEagle, aka Jody and Andrew).
Yay!
There was conversation. There were photos. There was a rapid outing of the appliances, started by Andrew, which resulted in me being punched (ow!) by Bari.
Oh, and in case you missed it, I was Dishrack. Please don’t punch me.
Exhaustion and anticipation soon began to claim the partiers. Also, the hotel staff seemed to want us to leave for some reason.
So we left.
And I began to cough, only a little. Probably just allergies or something…
Sunday
The day had arrived. A day of joy. A day of promise. A day that had been eagerly waited by thousands for months and months. It was here.
Ships and Dip III would begin.
But first!
There was this marathon. Nothing against marathons, but what the peep?
We had had the bright idea to have Chris (Son_of_Ed) use his rental car to get the baggage and some of us passengers to the port early. That way, we wouldn’t have to pay for a shuttle, the luggage would get aboard early, and we could miss the lines sure to form slightly later in the day. Great ideas all, but only one would ever be realized. And it’s all because of the Stupid Elation Miami Marathon.
Having been to the port several times already, thanks to the Rock Boat, I figured it wouldn’t be too hard to get there again. I mean, of course they’d have a detour route to the port for departing passengers to use. And of course it would be well-signed so that those driving the departing passengers wouldn’t suffer the misfortune of driving forever until their heads exploded.
Of course not.
The first sign that there might be a problem should have been when we saw people with cruise-like luggage. Walking down the street toward the port. But we dismissed them like the idiots we were and continued to drive. Until we couldn’t. Until the police sent us the other way. Around and around and around in circles, spiraling our way through downtown Miami and yet never arriving at anything that might be considered a destination. We tried going the way one policeman suggested. No luck. We got back on the highway. Only good for going to the Florida Keys. We tried heading the completely wrong direction in the desperate hope that we would enter into a wormhole and be magically transported to the port that way. Nothing.
And then, somehow (I’m thinking magic or all the luck of the Irish), we were at the port.
Yay!
The correct terminal was located. The car was stopped. The bags were unloaded. Brandy and I were unloaded. The Stupid Elation hat was left on the floor. The porter was tipped. And Chris sped away into the bright tropical morning.
And then we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
Meanwhile, all of the rest of the passengers, and I do mean all of them, arrived to board. Tacky tourists walked past, mingling with guitar-toting musicians (professionals and passengers). A friendly Carnival line-minder looked sympathetically at us as we yearned to join the ever-lengthening line at security. But it was not to be. For we did not possess the fabled FunPass that would gain us access to the ship. One of our other three roommates had that. And we also did not possess the intelligence to realize that we totally could have gotten on the ship without it and could have been sipping rum punches on the Lido Deck instead of standing around in the glaring sun getting more and more impatient as the day wore on.
But we were fools, and so we waited. After two hours, the wait was over. Well, not over, exactly. The wait for the roommates was over. And then the wait to board the ship began. The security line went quickly. We were then herded up the escalators, where apparently everyone else on the ship got to see and chat with a member of Barenaked Ladies. We didn’t. A much-bearded Steve did rush past at some point, but that was all the BNL we were going to get. Fortunately, our BNL-lessness didn’t have to wait too long as we were soon checked in and speeding toward our cabin and the promise of drinks with little umbrellas.
Food! Buffet lines filled with Harvey Danger band members! Fruity cocktails! Suddenly realizing that I did in fact have a cold! Muster drills! Thus, the first few hours on the ship passed.
After the muster drill, our confidence in surviving disaster at sea strong, we rushed for the Lido Deck, having thrown our lifejackets in the general direction of Chris and Michele. But what was this? A half-filled (or half-empty, if you’re a pessimist) Lido Deck? Concerned only for the balance of the boat, we immediately headed for the empty half of the deck. We made it to the sound booth before a very earnest ship person informed us that big, heavy pieces of equipment were being hurled over the closed-off side and that we should probably not get hit by said equipment. This was a good argument, so we only slowly edged into the parts of the danger zone that promised a good view of the stage. After much more equipment than they had told us about, the all-clear was given, and BNL fans surged like waves upon the beach across the previously-vacant deck. Good spots were gained. And all was good.
And then the concert. Oh, the concert! Sunshine, sailing away, rather loud ship’s whistles, and Barenaked Ladies! Plus, they played “Life, In a Nutshell,” which is probably unimportant to just about everyone who isn’t me. But those people don’t matter. Thus it was, in fact, the best BNL concert I’d seen all day. Up until that point anyway.
The concert ran over. This might have been a tragedy if I had even remotely cared, but more BNL is always good BNL. It did mean, however, that the message board party had to be rushed to afterwards. And rush I did, despite the fact that my BNL-based cold medicine had abruptly worn off with the end of the show, and I suddenly actually felt sick. No matter – the message board was, as is so often the case, my priority.
What a priority it was! People who were once just words in the flesh! Many of whom I had already met (see above, pre-party). Plus a few that I hadn’t. Excellent people, all of them, especially Charmed One, who has the distinction of buying me my first drink (sorry MG). The message board party was held in what was quite possibly the oddest of the many odd rooms on the Victory. The Ionian Bar, a designated place for smokers (so of course they’d stick the message board there?), with the coolest behind-the-bar murals pretty much ever.
The party continued with many pictures, many newly met people (including some, like drumgroovy, who didn’t really speak to me ), and much conversation. About halfway through I did realize that, in my haste to arrive, I had totally forgotten my 135-page booklet containing all thirty-whatever Weeks in Review. So I left to get it. Because I must show off. Whenever possible. Of course, a noisy bar full of excited people walking around is perhaps not the absolute best venue for the touting of a book, but whatever. It’s not like I was going to walk around with the thing all week.
Alas, after some time, the party began to wind down. And with that winding down came my own winding down. It’s interesting how one tends to feel significantly worse as the cold medicine (the real stuff, not the BNL pick-me-up) wears off. Despite a few more drink offers (sorry MG), it was time to collapse in the cabin.
About the cabin. If someone ever tells you that a 5-person cabin is a valid, sensible way to save money on a cruise, they’re lying. A 5-person cabin is steerage. Like on the Titanic. No room for luggage. No room for the beds. No room to walk across the floor without stepping on a roommate. I hated that cabin.
Fortunately, I did not have to stay there long, since there was many an activity still to come that evening. Due to the much-aforementioned feeling like sh*t, I skipped several of the concerts that evening. But nothing, and I do mean nothing, was going to keep me away from the BNL Double Dippers show.
Good choice. When else am I likely to hear my favorite band perform at least reasonable approximations of some of their most obscure songs (Really Don’t Know? wow…)? And with no preparation whatsoever. If I had been them, that bucket would have been thrown out in terror within minutes. And yet, they persevered, playing song after cruel song. No One Week or anything! Yes, they may have cheated a wee bit, but why not use a lyrics book, if one of your fans is so considerate as to bring it along.
This BNL show, like all that have come before and all that are to come, eventually had to end. Two concerts in one day… If there was such a thing as too much BNL, that might be it. Thank goodness that this is not possible!
Following the concert, many other people went to later shows or to party. Me? I went to bed, feeling certain that a good night’s sleep was all I really needed to get better and rock out the rest of the cruise.
Monday
The day didn’t exactly begin early – it was a cruise, after all! Why get up at the crack of dawn? At least not until a shore excursion day… And Monday was a day at sea. Nothing to bother my rest. Except of course for the evilest of room stewards, Eben. Stupid Elation Eben. Among my many, many complaints about this man may be his insistence that we should have already been up at 9 AM every day. Sigh…
Not much happened in the morning. I attempted to figure out where things were on the ship. That didn’t work too well. But I was certain that I would have the whole deck plan memorized within a few short days. How hard could it be? Hard, apparently. I did, however, find the Lido Deck in time to take off all of my clothes and play a kazoo in the morning sun. After a little dressing, it was off to the dining room for my first formal meal of the cruise – lunch. Pity that there’s no chocolate melting cake that early in the day… Not that I would have gotten to eat it, since I had to run before the dessert ever made an appearance. According to Brandy, I didn’t miss anything in the dessert I had to forgo anyway.
Why did I have to leave? What possible activity could there have been on this night-oriented ship at 1 PM? The Kids CD Listening Party, of course. Not that I’m a kid. And not that I have a kid. And not that I have any close relationship with a kid who might benefit from such an event. Fortunately, I had arranged to borrow a kid, just for this event. The lovely Snow Leopard and mommyand3 (Doug and Tammy in reality) had a spare, and so I was graced with the loan of their firstborn, Devon. Who got me in the door and then promptly dumped me for his much cooler friends.
Whatever. I was in and was soon treated to what might just be the greatest children’s song album in the history of the universe. The only sad part is that I have to wait another 4-5 months before I get to hear “7,8,9” again… And then I suppose I might have to justify to some cultureless people why exactly I need to buy an album aimed at children. Philistines…
The rest of the day was pretty much devoted to wandering. Up, down, in strange and unexpected circles… Thus, the Victory. After a few hours, I was still completely lost. I did also manage to get my door decorations up, which was helpful in finding my own cabin at least.
Brandy and I had been planning on seeing Carbon Leaf that evening, but that was not to be. Instead, we, dressed in our greeny finest, found some message board types with whom to dine. Such a table! Myself, Brandy, WildEagle, NiceyDoodle, Ellen from Saint Louis and her Codger, Musical Genius, and personal venus. Spoons dangled from noses, many lobsters were consumed, MG finally succeeded in purchasing a drink for me, Finchy appeared (looking exactly as I had pictured him, by the way), Kermit strolled by, the waiters danced… Who needs a concert when one can have all this?
And it all ended with Warm Chocolate Melting Cake…
When there was no more chocolatey goodness to be had for that night, it was time to experience the much-anticipated Great Big Sea. Oh my… We opted for balcony seats, due to my weakened condition, which were probably a good choice. However exciting the floor may have been, I am fairly certain that I would have collapsed with all that dancing and vertical movement. As it was, I’m fairly certain that I’ve never bounced so much in a seat before…
I had originally thought to stay for Guster, but it was pointed out to me that I was not likely to ever hear the songs of Paul McCartney in loving tribute again, should I miss a certain concert that night. So across the ship we went, up and down several decks in the process, to the Adriatic Lounge where Steven Page and Sean Nelson were ready to amaze us. There were no seats, of course, but the floor was quite lovely and almost disturbingly close to the stage. The show was indeed one-of-a-kind, but most of what I took away from the whole thing was that I really don’t know the music of Paul McCartney so well. I think I only recognized one song all night…
There were other shows that night. There was more partying that night. But for me, there was only sleep that night. And cough syrup. Early the next morning, I would have to be a pirate, and a girl needs her beauty sleep for something like that!
Tuesday
Tuesday dawned far too early. Before dawn, in fact. Why exactly did Carnival hate me so? Why did they think that I wanted to catch a 7:15 tender to Grand Cayman in order to pretend to be a pirate for the day? Why?
The insanely early start time did lend itself well to a spectacular Caymanian sunrise. And to a mad dash through the many floors of the Caribbean Lounge, desperately looking for something that resembled the assembly point for the tenders. Said assembly point was eventually found, moments before we were herded away to the tender point. The tender wasn’t as bad as I’d been fearing after all the tender horror stories we’d been hearing about. It was just a smallish, smelly boat with uncomfortable seats. But we were quickly ashore, eagerly anticipating our adventure.
But when we got to shore? Not a pirate to be seen. It’s not like I was expecting Johnny Depp or something (Orlando Bloom would have been more than adequate), but there was no one resembling a pirate anywhere. Other than the Carnival photo guy, of course. Who just didn’t do it for me somehow.
In the absence of piratey folk, we waited. Brandy and I were soon joined by several dozen touristy people, a few of whom were even from the Legend! Still a cool ship, although nowhere near as cool as it once was… We were also joined by Mari and Doug, my official excursion buddies for the cruise.
After many minutes of agonizing wait, a completely non-pirate-like person led us to another of those tender boats. Which fortunately took us to a real live pirate ship! Really! Full of real pirates! Honest. It’s what I insist on telling myself anyway, so no arguments on this.
They weren’t Johnny Depp, but our pirates at least approached that great man’s caliber. And they made all the kids onboard swab the deck. With toothbrushes.
After a few thoroughly satisfactory canon shots at the Victory, the pirates made us walk the plank. Granted, they made us walk the plank while wearing life jackets, which diluted the experience somewhat, but still. Ah, the Caribbean waters… So warm, so pretty, so teeming with fishies and other scary things that Brandy, Mari, and I did a very good job ignoring the existence of.
Back on the pirate ship, it was finally time for my rum punch. I’d been up for hours, and it was so very much time for booze. There’s nothing like a little rum to start your day off right! And there’s nothing like being recognized from your avatar (by the equally early-boozing Sarah (See the Sound)) to start your ego off right!
The pirates very (uncharacteristically for pirates) thoughtfully dropped us off back in Georgetown, where we all decided that 10:30 was plenty late enough for lunch. At that cultural mecca known as the Hard Rock Café – hey, it’s not like any of the other restaurants were any better!
We walked around a bit after that, gawking at the cars going the wrong way and the business-suited men expertly dodging the tourists. Odd place, Grand Cayman. But nice, I suppose. The whole place just made me want to sit on a beach with a cool drink.
Maybe I would have too, but the dreaded Death Cold decided that was a bad idea. So we tendered our way back to the Victory. Not much going on on that boat when everybody’s off on an island, but it sure was nice not to have to wait in any sort of line for the tender!
Then it was time for Great Big Sea. After a few hours anyway. But I can’t remember what actually happened during those few hours, so we’ll pretend that they didn’t exist. OK? Good. So, it was time for Great Big Sea and for free drinks, courtesy of the Captain’s Party. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm… We were on the Lido Deck plenty early enough to have been right up front for this concert, but the Death Cold would have none of it. So we just dragged a couple of chairs to the edge of the pool behind the stage. It is quite possible that these were not the ultimate fan seats for the show, as we weren’t all that close to the stage and only got to see the back sides of Great Big Sea throughout the performance. But it did OK for the GBS-newbies that Brandy and I were. Plus, it afforded easy access to the waiters with free drinks. We even got a glimpse of the bespeedoed Ed, as he joined in the merriment (I almost missed this, since I had not yet noticed that there were bathrooms close to the stage and had wandered to the other end of the deck for the facilities as a result. But I got back in time, so it’s OK.).
Like all good things, Great Big Sea came to an end. So I donned my sweater and headed back into the icy bowels of the ship (side note: why was the air conditioning turned up so high? I know most of us came from cold places to go on the cruise, but weren’t we trying to escape the cold? Not reenact it… Stupid Elation air conditioning.).
To do something. Which I am sure was very entertaining.
But which will not be recounted here. Instead, time for dinner again! This time with Shell and Patty! And more Warm Chocolate Melting Cake!
Fortunately, scheduling for this evening allowed for both Chocolate Melting Cake and Carbon Leaf to be enjoyed. And enjoyed they were, even if my camera did decide that no good Carbon Leaf photos would ever be taken by me. You’d think I would have gotten one or two, wouldn’t you? Oh well. The music was good. As were the cat ears on a certain lead singer…
And then it was time for the main event of the day, the BNL show! This was my “extra” show, technically, received for referring a new passenger. Which meant that I got the worst seats in the house. Fortunately, this was the Caribbean Lounge, in which the worst seats are about ten times better than the best seats in most houses. Brandy and I were allotted seats in the middle of Row Q. It only went to Row S, so that should give you an idea of where we were. Fortunately, Row Q was pretty much empty. As was a fair amount of Rows P, O, and N. Which meant that we ended up with a huge amount of space and a clear line of sight over the soundboard. With the arrival of the always-welcome Kate and Eric into Row S right behind us, we had the makings of a true BNL party (helped, of course, by my bottle of rum-enhanced ginger beer…). So we danced. And danced. And contemplated things that could be thrown at the drunken people at the end of our row who felt the need to loudly converse throughout the entire performance (WTP???).
Then, it all ends, after one measly little encore. The crowd applauds thunderously, but, alas, the lights come back on. It was over. But, wait! The crowd continues their thunderous approval as the minutes tick on and the yellow-shirted security folk begin to look anxious. And then? Then, the lights go out. Barenaked Ladies reappear. “When I Fall” is played. And I realize that I could die happy, should that be the Death Cold’s next move…
Well, I didn’t die (not yet anyway, but with this cold, I’m not counting on anything…). But I did go to bed. Much entertainment was missed, but the tepid allure of my despised cabin (now containing several sick roommates, thanks to the contagion) was too strong. True partying would have to wait until the next day…
Wednesday
Jamaica! That lush, beautiful island that actually is what I dream the Caribbean should be! Seriously, if I had to pick an island to visit twice in eight days, it would always be Jamaica.
Although not the Ochos Rios secondary cruise ship pier. That place is scary. Rusty old buildings, strange topiaries, a long walk to nowhere. Not that I noticed, since it was again ridiculously early in the morning (what is it with Carnival and the early excursions?) and I was on my way to the fulfillment of a childhood dream.
I was going to swim with dolphins.
Did you ever read a book by Madeleine L’Engle called A Ring of Endless Light? If so, then you might just understand why I got completely obsessed with dolphins when I was about 12. The obsession did fade with time, but there was always a lingering adoration for these creatures. So when Jamaica brought about the chance to swim with a dolphin for a mere $160 or so, I jumped at the chance. It’s not like I was being financially sensible while going on a cruise anyway…
Along with my regular excursion compatriots, Mari and Doug, I arrived at the dolphin cove. I was extremely pleased to see that the dolphin area, while cut off from the open ocean, was at least real sea water. I had been a little nervous that it would be a Sea World-type tank, which would totally detract from the experience. Mari and I were quickly sorted into the “Skye” group (Doug was there solely to photograph the experience) and sent to the dock. After only a few short anticipatory minutes, life jackets were donned and into the water we went.
Turns out that “Skye” was actually “Mitch,” the horny boy dolphin. First we got to pet Mitch as he swam by. Then there were some splashing antics. Next, a kiss from Mitch. Very cool, although a little unnerving when you realize exactly how big and powerful dolphins actually are. Also, I’m not sure if it was the training or if Mitch really was horny, but that dolphin definitely gave more love to the ladies. Not that I’m complaining. I figured that the kiss was the cap to the experience (people had warned me that dolphin swims were notoriously short and lacking in much contact), but that was not the case. We got to pet Mitch a few more times. And then we got to ride him. I rode a dolphin!!! Yay! My inner adolescent is still jumping up and down and shrieking about this! Mitch swam on his back with the rider holding on to the side fins. Totally fun.
Alas, the fun had to end eventually. We were all to soon ushered out of the water and over to the gift shop, where the photos were readily available. Tourist trap or not, I instantly bought $50 of photos and have yet to regret it. I also got to show off my beloved camera to one of the Jamaican photographers. Always fun.
The dolphin cove definitely began to lose a little of its excitement once we were out of the water, so we headed up to the buses. Which were only going to Dunn’s River Falls, the obligatory tourist stop for all who come to this part of Jamaica. You were supposed to strip down to bathing suits and water shoes and then climb the falls. But we were lazy, newly dried off people who were having none of it. We therefore just wandered about on the riverside paths, marveling at giant, freaky spiders and strings of wet tourists. Among those wet tourists were Jody, Andrew, and Michele, who made me perfectly happy to not be climbing up the falls right about then.
An hour or so later, we’d had our fill. Cleverly detouring around the craft market and having already taken our tacky pictures with the donkey, we quickly made it to the buses. The next stop was town, where they expected us to tourist shop ‘til we dropped. Having none of it, we went to lunch. It was a nice place to look at – a covered porch looking out on the main drag of Ochos Rios (home of the legless beggar man), cold beer, and jerk chicken. And only jerk chicken. Seriously, this place had a two-page menu, listing a wide variety of meats and seafood cooked in many ways. But all they actually had was jerk chicken.
This made me very happy.
After lunch, Mari and Doug decided to take advantage of our shopper-friendly location, while I decided to head over to tourist central for some ice cream. Good ice cream. Much better than the “real Bob Marley experience” I was offered on the way over. The ice cream didn’t last so long, as is typical of ice cream, even when one is interrupted by Melissa and Ed and by the tropical downpours that make Jamaica so lovely. Soon, it was time to head back to the ship. Not wanting to deal with a cab, I walked back. So what was up with the boys whose heads popped up over the bank? I’m not sure I want to know. Especially since it was otherwise a truly nice day.
Back on the Victory, it was time for more wandering and waiting for the music to restart. Not a very exciting afternoon – I was actually bored for the first time! Unfortunately, my boredom was not to be alleviated by Oakhurst, who were quickly rained out (although I heard rumors that their show continued elsewhere, I didn’t catch it).
But that was OK, because Wednesday evening was to be jam-packed. First, there was dinner and Warm Chocolate Melting Cake. Then there was Rock Band. Now, I’m not much of a video game person. In fact, the only video game system I’ve ever owned was a Colecovision that my parents bought for us in 1986, shortly before the system was discontinued. We had Donkey Kong – a game I never got good at. So I had never played Rock Band before. I hadn’t expected to particularly want to play Rock Band before. I was wrong. Rock Band is amazing! I want Rock Band! Now I just need to figure out which system has it and how I can possibly justify it’s purchase. Not that I was all that amazing at the game – I played the drums on Easy and can only brag that I did make it through on my first try.
But it was so much fun!!!
Waiting around for Rock Band made Brandy and I a little bit late for Harvey Danger. I don’t think we missed all that much though, so it’s OK. I had seen them before, so I thought that I wouldn’t be too surprised. Silly me. An almost a capella, no microphone rendition of Pike St./Park Slope (my absolute favorite Harvey Danger song) may have been one of the greatest surprises of a cruise that was full of such surprises. Sean Nelson may look like the most bullied kid on the playground, but his voice can take us all down.
Unlike 90% of the people in the Caribbean Lounge, we got up to leave at the end of Harvey Danger, forgoing the joys of Guster to get a chance to see the Vanity Projects up on the Lido Deck. Hardest decision of the cruise, that was. Fortunately, the weather chose to help us out, bringing enough wind to shut down the outdoor stage for the evening. The Vanity Projects were to be moved elsewhere, where they would start late. Guster, here we came!
Before Guster, however, our path took us to the Atrium overlook, where we heard the sweet sounds of the Brothers Creeggan echoing up to us. Dancing was obligatory, and so we did (Brandy, who can actually dance, may have beat me at this…). A song or two later, and it was time to head down to their level. In the glass elevators. Glass elevators are good for dancing. So we danced. All the way down from the Lido Deck to the Lobby. And then back up. And then back down. Silly maybe, but when are you going to be silly if not on a cruise?
The Brothers Creeggan show ended shortly after our arrival, and I soon had my only real BNL conversation of the week with Jim (who we trapped at the only exit from the Atrium stage). It’s strange how my favorite member of Barenaked Ladies tends to be the one I talked to most recently… Strange, but cool.
After this, there was nowhere to go but Guster. So we went. Guster was, as always, a whole lot of fun. I had been a little concerned about seeing Guster without the Thundergod, since I tend to spend all of every Guster show marveling at Brian’s resemblance to Animal from the Muppets. Tyler, however, pulled it off. He may have lacked Brian’s insane drumming style, but he made up for it in the wisecracks and the enthusiasm. I actually think that Tyler may have been making up for always having to play third fiddle to Ed and Steve during BNL shows or something. That must be hard…
We left Guster a little early, wanting to arrive at the Vanity Projects in time for a good seat. Little did we know that our information was somewhat faulty. The Vanity Projects had finished a good ¾ of their set before we even got there! Oh well. At least I got to hear “Baby Loves the Radio” before bed.
Bed. Unlike every other night on the cruise, I was actually feeling energetic enough that night to consider not heading straight to bed as soon as possible. Granted, I was a little tired by the end of the Vanity Projects, but I wasn’t about to give in. Up I went to the Lido Deck, where a little late night pizza awaited my arrival. As did Nikki, Jackie, Leigh, and her husband. There was a little munching and a little appliance talk. And then it was, in fact, time for bed.
Thursday
The last day. Sigh. Had to come eventually, but that doesn’t really lessen the sadness of it. Fortunately, I am a master of ignoring the unpleasant and having fun anyway. So the day still got to be good!
I got to sleep in a bit on Thursday. Not much, but a lot more than I would have on say, a shore day. No more 7 AM departures for me! There was far too much of that for a vacation. Anyway, my morning began at the almost-reasonable hour of 10:30, when I went to go see what the Tour Photographer dude, David Bergman, had to say about how to take kickass concert photos. He had a lot to say, as it turned out. With slides. Shocking for a photographer, I know. But they were cool pictures. Almost made up for the fact that I didn’t really understand anything much at all about the technical aspects of the photos. One of these days, I will take the time to figure out how my camera works, but Thursday was not this day. I actually had to leave the photo seminar a little early, since the Death Cold decided to visit an uncontrollable attack of the coughing upon me. Bleah. Although the picture has not appeared anywhere public, there may even be a photo of me during this coughing, thanks to the paparazzi-stylings of one FastEddie.
At this point, a sensible person would have realized it was lunchtime and acted accordingly. I am not a sensible person. So I just went straight to the Songwriters’ Panel. I went there so straight, in fact, that I didn’t even notice that there was no one checking for tickets at the door. This technically didn’t matter, since I had a ticket, but still. As was typical for this cruise, I immediately ran into Kate and Eric upon my entry into the Caribbean Lounge. They, braving the contagion of the Death Cold, invited me to join them. Which I did.
Briefly. I realized shortly after this that I was in fact a little hungry. And more than a little thirsty, since it was after noon and I hadn’t had my first adult beverage of the day! Moving quickly to remedy this horrid situation, I headed for the gelato bar, which had been taunting me with its creamy goodness for days at this point. Some might say that gelato does not make for a healthy lunch, but those some are losers who want to spoil my cruise. They are to be ignored. I also purchased a Coke, with the full intention of heading back to the Panel, where a small bottle of rum in Kate’s bag had been offered earlier.
My plans, however, were to be thwarted by the Evil Door Person. It seems that in my absence, Sixthman had realized that they should probably do the ticket-checking thing. As I had my ticket, as I mentioned before, I figured that this was not a problem and proceeded to walk in the door. But then. The Evil Door Person struck. She informed me that she didn’t think I could bring food or drink into the Caribbean Lounge. When I mentioned that they served drinks regularly in the Caribbean Lounge, she amended the prohibition to food alone. When I added that people had been eating in there all week (including the guy I had seen eating a sandwich earlier that day), she reiterated that she thought it wasn’t allowed. Then she decided to check on her position and radioed someone else to ask about food. That person didn’t know. So she radioed another person. Who also didn’t know. Eventually, they had to call the head of Sixthman, who also didn’t know. After several radio calls, while I stood there, melting gelato in hand, the Evil Door Person finally found someone else who was pretty sure that I couldn’t bring food into the Lounge. I was summarily sent away to gulp down my expensive dessert in the few remaining minutes before the start of the panel. Kind of ruined the whole gelato experience for me.
It is fortunate that I eat ice cream quickly at times, because the Songwriters’ Panel started a little early. I did make it back before then, and assuaged my annoyance by the liberal application of Jamaican rum to Coke (thanks Kate!). I was then ready to enjoy eight or so singer-songwriters show off their great music. And it was great! My guilt at not catching a Jason Plumb or Sarah Harmer set (stupid Elation Death Cold) was somewhat mitigated by getting to hear them both during this. Also, “Kittens in a Bag” by Boothby Graffoe may just be the funniest and wrongest thing I have ever heard in my life.
The Songwriter’s Panel was supposed to be over by 3, giving me ample time to run up to the Lido Deck for Harvey Danger. Then, they just decided to go long. Sometimes, the cruise just totally rocks! An extra 45 minutes of songwriting goodness for us all!
Eventually, it did have to end, so to the Lido Deck I went. Where I was immensely pleased to find out that Harvey Danger would be starting late, almost as if they planned it all out for me. To make things even better, there wasn’t much of a crowd yet, so I got to stand right up against the stage. I never get to stand that close! I was joined by Nikki and Jackie soon after, thus even giving me friends to hang out with through the concert.
It was a good concert – nice sun, fun people, wonderful songs. Even if Jackie was under the serious misapprehension that it was all about her. No Jackie. Once again, it’s all about me! You just need to understand this!
The day passes by so quickly! When Harvey Danger was over, it was just about dinner time. As it was the last day of the cruise, my roommates and I were planning to have the final dinner together. And to drink the bottle of champagne we’d been eyeing in the room all week. A good roommate would have headed directly to the cabin to be in plenty of time for dinner. But I’m not a good roommate. I’m a roommate whose lunch had been a small amount of gelato and a rum and Coke. I’m a roommate who wanted sushi. Mmmmm… Sushi…
After the sushi, I did force myself to go back to the cabin, aka the claustrophobic box full of sick people (granted, the sick people were pretty much my fault). I didn’t have to stay long though, since it was time for our assigned seating at the Atlantic Dining Room. Dinner went well – champagne and Warm Chocolate Melting Cake! Also, the waiters kindly performed If I Had $1,000,000 for our pleasure (granted, in the other dining room, this was accompanied by Steve and Ed dancing on a table…). These things a good dinner make.
Responsible people would have packed after dinner. I am not responsible people.
Instead, I went up to the Lido Deck for a little Great Big Sea. Wonderful, as always. But there were other shows to see that night! Brandy and I opted for Gaelic Storm, a band that I hadn’t managed to see all week. Which totally sucks, since they are great in concert. They didn’t disappoint that night either, even though we only managed to stay for a few songs. We would have stayed longer, but you’ve got to have priorities in this life. And my priority that night was the BNL show.
Yes, I may have seen them 3 other times during the week. But there can never be too much BNL. And I was supposed to have good seats/standing room for this one!
They were pretty good seats. I, however, had aspirations for better (than the second row – yes, I am never satisfied) and edged out of the row and toward the stage. Not a bad location in the end, although I did end up behind a whole mess of tall people. And not just tall people – tall people known to the band, which means I got absolutely no eye contact that night. Sigh… So spoiled… I shouldn’t complain though, since the tall people in question, especially Kristen and Rena, were incredibly considerate with making sure I could see between them or over shoulders. Most tall people aren’t so good about this!
Oh, and the show was good. Of course. But this one was especially good, with all sorts of craziness. They let Devon, my pseudo-kid from the CD listening party!, up on stage to play drums for The Old Apartment (he rocked! I was so pseudo-proud! ). After a casual mention of the phrase “trust me,” they went and played “Trust Me.” Steve finished the show in a queen-sized green dress with a feather boa. It’s true that you never know what’s going to happen… on the cruise-ah!
All too soon, yet another amazing show was over. The end of the cruise seemed imminent. Sigh… We went back to the cabin, where a little packing was in order. How sad. Michele and Chris just plain gave up and headed to the Lido Deck for libations. Brandy and Amanda passed out. A sensible person would have followed suit. But again, I am not so sensible.
As soon as a reasonable amount of packing had been accomplished, I therefore headed to the Lido Deck, where I was determined to make it to the end of the Acid Wish last-night-of-the-cruise jam session. The jam session was very much in full swing by the time I arrived, with roughly every single artist on the cruise sharing the stage and just about every rock song of the past 40 years. I was especially impressed by Bartles, with his interesting choice of attire (how did he change so fast anyway?). I wandered around the Lido Deck, running into all sorts of people (including the ever-so-cool Devon and his dad Doug). I then spotted a few friends at the bar. The type of friends who buy me drinks – the best friends. A certain T.B.A. was especially friendly in this way (mmmmm… buttery nipple shots…). There was a great deal of drinking and dancing with many people at this point.
And the music continued. After awhile, we noticed that there were some lights on the horizon. Closer inspection revealed, to our horror, that it was the Miami skyline rapidly approaching in the early, early morning sky. Not a good sign for those of us desperate for the cruise not to end. The insanity of the jam session was continuing, but soon that had to end too, when the crew informed them that they had to stop.
I did hang around for a little while after this, hoping for a last signature on a postcard, but then it was indeed time for bed. Although why I bothered at 5 AM, I have no clue. I should’ve just headed for the Casino Bar with the other people crazy enough to still be up at this point. It probably wouldn’t have made too much difference in how I felt in the “morning.”
But I was not thinking of that right then. So I went to bed.
And, all too soon, it was Friday.
Nothing good, nothing at all, happened on Friday.
It is therefore here that the story of Ships and Dip III ends.
In Which I Explain Myself
This is my blog.
I will write things in it.
I'm not sure what kind of things yet. They will probably be quite random. This is because I am a random sort of person.
For example, the title of this blog is Let There Be Chaos. Had I been thinking a minute ago when I set up this blog, the title would have been Let There Be Chaos!. But now it's too late. The excitement is gone. Chaos is now boring.
It's not like I'm a big fan of chaos in real life. Actually, I just like the word. I remember seeing it written for the first time, in third or fourth grade. I was convinced that it was pronounced "chows." To this day, I tend to read it, in my head that way. If you are reading this and do not know what I am talking about and perhaps think that my pronunciation is in fact correct, then I apologize. This blog is not for you.
I should stop writing now. I have explained myself, at least a little bit. There is more explanation to come, but not now. Now, I am tired. Now, I will go to bed. Now, I will try to find some readers for this, my blog. Good night.
I will write things in it.
I'm not sure what kind of things yet. They will probably be quite random. This is because I am a random sort of person.
For example, the title of this blog is Let There Be Chaos. Had I been thinking a minute ago when I set up this blog, the title would have been Let There Be Chaos!. But now it's too late. The excitement is gone. Chaos is now boring.
It's not like I'm a big fan of chaos in real life. Actually, I just like the word. I remember seeing it written for the first time, in third or fourth grade. I was convinced that it was pronounced "chows." To this day, I tend to read it, in my head that way. If you are reading this and do not know what I am talking about and perhaps think that my pronunciation is in fact correct, then I apologize. This blog is not for you.
I should stop writing now. I have explained myself, at least a little bit. There is more explanation to come, but not now. Now, I am tired. Now, I will go to bed. Now, I will try to find some readers for this, my blog. Good night.
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