Today was much the same as yesterday except that I’m having rainbow sprinkles on my ice cream instead of chocolate jimmies. Actually, today was a little different in content if not in composition. But first, I should summarize our evening.
Yesterday was one of two formal nights on the Caribbean Princess. All the restaurants were to seat only the well-heeled, and they were definitely enforcing the rules. We saw more than one group eating in Horizon Court (the buffet, which is the refuge for the pedestrian masses on formal nights) each member of whom was dressed to the nines except one guy who had no jacket or was otherwise not up to snuff. Generally, though, people all over the boat were beautifully—if somewhat stodgily in the case of the men—attired. Mark and I were happily ensconced among the pedestrian masses. I think I had on a polo from Kohl’s and a pair of seersucker-ish shorts that needed to be ironed.
I don’t seem to have hit my culinary stride on the ship yet. I’ve been finding it hard to locate food that I find satisfactory except for the hot dog I had for lunch and a cookie (though the hot chocolate has thus far been excellent). Now, that’s not an aspersion (“Aspersion!” Can you tell I’ve been reading about the Oxford English Dictionary?) on the quality of food but rather a broken record that plays constantly through my life due to my thoroughly unsophisticated palate. Scrambled eggs steamed in pans instead of grilled. “Thin” ice cream. Flaccid bacon. Lots and lots of things I either can’t identify or wouldn’t touch unless it meant my survival. I did—well, Mark did—discover this morning that the breakfast buffet includes in one well-hidden corner a tray of waffles, so tomorrow looks more promising. This dietary diatribe is all to admit that my dinner last night consisted of mashed potatoes with gravy, a bun, and a chocolate chip cookie.
After “dinner,” we strolled about a bit and then wended our way to the Wheelhouse Lounge where an informal gathering of gay folks was to take place. Mark and I ordered drinks and perched ourselves relatively close to the entrance so we could spot any obvious “Friends of Dorothy” who might wander in. After a few minutes, a kind North Carolinian, Sam, touched me on the shoulder and asked, “Are you looking for the LGBT group?” We’re over there beyond the bar if you’d like to join us. We did and met about half of the 10 or 12 tuxedoed and suited men talking about their cruising experiences, their families, their careers, and what shows they planned to see during the rest of the cruise. Sam’s husband is Neal (or Neil or Niall—I didn’t get the spelling). We also met Rob and, later, his husband, Arthur (who was at a show featuring the music of Billy Joel, Elton John, and Barry Manilow) as well as two fellas from Northern California but whose names I missed. We were parked near the stage, and it was sometimes hard to hear over the steel-drum and iPad band. That’s also why we were unable really to meet the others in the circle.
After about an hour, the group began to break up. People had other things they wanted to see, and the ship’s entertainment generally went on into the wee hours. Mark and I wandered over to the piano lounge to catch some of the piano-player’s act. He was very talented, but his style was a little too florid for my taste. On one of our previous cruises, I spent a lot of time in the piano bar which was more participatory and raucous—we were encouraged to sing along and to make requests by throwing wadded up napkins on which we’d scribbled song names into a basket on the piano crowned by a miniature basketball hoop. This cruise’s piano man had a decent voice, though, and we enjoyed the music—most of which we knew—with Rob and Arthur, who had stopped by for a bit on their way to watch auditions for a singing contest modeled on TV’s The Voice.
Mark and I turned in a little after 10 and had a much better night’s sleep than we had on Saturday night. In fact, When I awoke at 7:45, the curtains were drawn, so I thought it was two or three o’clock. I can’t believe I slept completely through the night. I haven’t been able to do that for a very very long time!
This morning, like a good boy, I went to the gym and did a three-mile run on the treadmill. It had a wonky leg, so it was a bit like running across Galloping Gertie—the original Tacoma Narrows Bridge that shook apart during a windstorm in the early part of the twentieth-century. This ship doesn’t have a running track, so the treadmill is my only option. I’m not a fan of running on treadmills—it’s mind-numbing—but in about six weeks, I’ll be back in Florida. I can tolerate the treadmills here and in our condo gym back home for that long. Mark, like a bad boy, slept in, only rousing when I’d showered and said I was going to get breakfast.
We sought out a quieter, sunnier place to camp out on deck today. We got none of the former and too much of the latter. I thought the back of the ship was a no-children zone, but the kids screaming at the pool 20 feet above and behind me told me I was wrong there. Also, when we sat down in a couple lounge chairs, we were partly shaded, but within a half hour, they were fully in blistering sun. We sat in shade yesterday, and I still got a sunburn, so I thought it unwise to stay in that locale too long, even with suntan lotion on. After a short while, we relocated to the starboard side of the ship, which was facing north, and took up residence in the shadow of a bulkhead. There we spent about six hours reading and listening to music. I finished The Professor and the Madman and will try to get all the way through Krakatoa on the two days at sea on the way home.
It’s about 5:30 on the ship (4:30 in Columbus; we lost an hour overnight when we crossed into the Atlantic time zone), and Mark should be in the stateroom getting cleaned up. I think he’s going to want to go to the dining room for dinner tonight, so I should probably head down to the cabin and pull on a pair of long pants—required in the dining room even on casual nights. The breeze right now is lovely, though, and the sun is setting. I could sit here for hours and watch the black sea ripple past.
I didn’t take any pictures today, but here are some more I took yesterday.
These are the exhaust stacks, which I thought were visually interesting. I took several pictures of these, but I’ll only subject you to one.
This is one of the seating areas in Horizon Court (the buffet). The baubles on the ceiling were lit with LED or fiber-optic lights and glowed in oscillation. These could be found in all the dining rooms, too. They must have gotten a deal at Menard’s! (Actually, they created a nice ambiance.)
A shot out the back of the sip. Note the blue haze to the left of the wake. That’s our exhaust, and it could always bee seen. I have lots more shots of the sea with parts of our ship, with other ships, with no ships, but again, I’ll only subject you to one here.
These are a slide and I think a spray (turned off) in the kids pool. This was behind and above my in the shot above.
