Today was a day at sea.
We had a wake up call at 8:30, grabbed a quick breakfast, and headed to the Paris Lounge for the 9:30 Shore Excursion Orientation.
After that, we stopped by the room, changed into our swim- and sun-wear, and went back to the Serenity Deck. Joe sat on the sun level, and I sat up a level in the shade, where I devised yesterday’s, and part of this, blog entry.
A man, who didn’t look very happy, sat next to me reading a book called, “Time for a Better Marriage.” I tried to see some of it, but he wasn’t close enough, and the print wasn’t that big. I wanted to see if there was a paragraph that said, “The only way for your own marriage to improve greatly is for homosexuals to stop marrying.”
Bitter? Me? Anyway, it made me wonder if he wasn’t with some kind of Marriage Encounter Group here on the ship.
Right at lunch time, the boat had a huge tip to one side, and one of the pools or hot tubs poured over the side of the ship, right onto tables at which people were sitting and having their lunches. Wild.
I had a light lunch, and we sat at the bar to eat since it was so crowded. While there I looked at the price list of the drinks. Really, I was looking to see how much they were charging for a soft drink, as the cans in our cabin were $1.75 a piece, and I noticed that here at the bar, they were opening a can an pouring it over ice and getting about three drinks per can.
Though the price list didn’t include soft drinks, it did include one very important thing. I haven’t mentioned that the prices of the drinks on board are much, much cheaper than we had anticipated. We really had expected the mixed drinks to be $7.00 or $8.00, but they are only $4.50.
That’s with house bourbon, as that’s what I drink all night last night. They use some kind of Tennessee or Kentucky Bourbon for their house brand. Well, lo and behold, on this price list at the bar, I see, “Canadian Club: $4.50”: the same price as the house bourbon. You know I switched to that pronto, since it’s what I buy for myself when I buy blended bourbon whiskey.
After lunch, we actually went up to the gym and worked out. I did an hour on their elliptical machine, which was very different from the one I use at Planet Fitness. I set it to the “Cardio” program, on which it kept me at a 136 heart rate, which I know is less than what I do at home.
Today’s workout statistics:
|
Cardio (Elliptical) |
60 |
760 |
I know that 760 calories is wrong. I’m sure it was really in the 1000 range. At least. That’s my story and it’s sticking to me.
After a shower and a couple of cocktails in our room (with our booty booze), we went to the ship’s library at 4:30, where the “Friends of Dorothy” meeting was scheduled. No one. Nada. Nothing.
At 5:00, we went to grab a bite to eat to reward ourselves from working out, to absorb the alcohol, and to tide us over to our 8:15 dining time. I had a hamburger and fries.
We had a couple of drinks after that in various bars around the ship, and watched everyone walking around all dressed up, all excited about “formal night” and appetizers and free drinks for an hour with the captain of the ship. We had absolutely no interest in either. Well, we did have a visual interest in the dressed up daddies.
Just before 8:00, back in our cabin, we put on our khaki pants and button-down shirt, and after going to the wrong dining room first, made our way to table 178 in the Mardi Gras Dining Room. The waiter said, “We missed you last night. Welcome.”
We met the other people at our table, whom I named [from r to l]: Yoko Ono, Gypsy Rose Lee, Anwar Sadat, Arsenic, and Old Lace. OMG. There simply wasn’t enough alcohol.
For my dinner, I chose: a Curry and Pumpkin Soup starter, a Caesar Salad, which was so fishy that I only ate half of it, the Lobster Tail and Shrimp entrée (which was fantastic), and one scoop of Butter Pecan Ice Cream for dessert.
We never wanted to dress up to eat in the dining room, and this experience just confirmed every reason why. At the end of the dinner, we beelined it out of there, with no intention of ever seeing those people again.
Back in our cabin, we changed clothes and went up to the piano bar, where we once again found Brady playing. There were actually several people in there this time, and we hung out and sang until about 11:15, when Brady practically shoved us out of there insisting that we go look at the Grand Buffet that was set up in the hallway nearby.
The line was so freaking long that we said, “F#$& that,” and made our way over to the Candlelight Lounge, where karaoke had started, it was quite festive, and once again, had a very welcoming and encouraging crowd.
After about 45 minutes of that, I bid Joe goodnight, and went back to our cabin, where I completed this entry, set a 7:30 wake up call for us, and hit the sack.
Tomorrow, we have to be ready to catch the tender boat to shore in Grand Cayman at 8:30 AM.
About 10 minutes after I was in the bed, Joe came back to the room with Pizza from the 24-hour Pizzeria on the Lido deck.
He told me that right after I left, this guy got up and sang that rap song that starts off, “Oh my god, Becky. Look at her butt.” And while he was singing it, this black girl who resembled that remark, got up and danced across the stage while the guy sang the song—just a-gyrating all of that junk in her Apple Bottom trunk.
Hate that I missed all that.