A Week At Sea

Prior to this past week, I was a cruise virgin. No more! Now that the ocean has had its savage way with me and I’m back on dry land, I thought I’d share a few tips and observations:

  • The ship elevators are going to stop on every floor, and anyone that enters will only take it up to the very next floor. Just let the magic wash over you. Stairs are for squares.

  • If it’s seafood night at the buffet, full Maritime law takes effect, and you’re gonna see some things.

  • Every time the ship leaves port, the horn is going to blast a skull-melting rendition* of the Love Boat theme. Soften your heart and learn to love it.

  • You’re just not going to pass the slow-moving person in front of you. Slow your roll, kid. If you try to sneak around, the sun’s gonna melt your wings by immediately flanking you with two previously-unseen Rascal scooters.

  • Santana songs last (against all odds) even longer when blasting across a ship’s deck. We’re talking a good 45 minutes per track, minimum.

  • You’ll be forced to set some personal boundaries regarding the socially acceptable amount of time that should elapse between eating free soft-serve ice cream cones.

  • There will be a few nights with a formal dress code. I found these to be necessary preventative “resets” to combat daily downward fashion spirals that might end with people dining in Sammy Hagar “Cabo Wabo Cantina” tank tops and Tweety Bird thongs.

See you on the water! ๐ŸŒŠ๐Ÿšข๐ŸŒŠ

* Yeah, I was dead serious