I’m off on a high seas adventure. The internet access will be spotty so I will be keeping a daily diary and update my cyber pyramid when I return.
Some guys that I used to work with are staying at the Ponderosa for me. None of these men are dating material…I’ve seen their feet. They are planning a week of target shooting and campfire sitting. Uh huh. I’ve childproofed my house and set first aid kits and fire extinguishers in plain sight.
I also removed the dishes and glassware and left them paper cups and plates. I’ve eaten with the crunch and slurp orchestra…it isn’t pretty. I tied a garbage bag to the doorknob of the back door. They will have to pass it to go out.
I know that I’ll return to Animal House. Fair trade.
I’m leaving on the Legendary Blues Cruise… some of the top names in rhythm and blues will be performing around the clock. The passengers are allowed to bring instruments aboard and jam with them. It’s a very cool concept, especially if you’re an aspiring musician. My fellow cruisers are mostly middle-aged with a few young ones thrown in to keep it interesting.
My friend Dr. C sings in a band and they are all going. I am the street team, as I am not allowed within five feet of a musical instrument or a dance floor.
I have no musical anything. At a party once, someone handed me a cowbell to play and it was taken away from me ten seconds later…NO MORE COWBELL.
The gym and the spa become my home away from home for the week and I am not proud to say that I won the award for the most money spent there two years in a row. I tried to solicit a sponsor for this year, but that won’t be happening. So I’ll spend my time sweating with the oldies and soaking in the hydro-pool that I call a human crockpot.
Holland America is a classy cruise line…except for next week. We take over the ship and it becomes a party-hardy floating boom box. There are people who will disembark at the end of the trip wearing the same clothes they had on the first day we boarded.
As soon as the lifeboat safety drills are over and we head out to sea, one of our blues pirates climbs to the front of the ship and hangs a banner that reads:
OUR SHIP KICKS ASS!
When we pull into port it is like the arrival of Chevy Chase’s crazy cousin played by Randy Quaid in the National Lampoon movies.
Once everyone boards, there are only two concerns…Where can I find the music and what is the drink of the day?
That is the theme for the rest of the week…and a great foil for seasickness. I don’t get seasick. I sleep really well…like a pen tucked in a pocket protector on those skinny little beds. There are three of us in our stateroom…me, Dr. C, and Joe…the drummer for their band. Joe is an honorary girl. He’s seen things….
We have a daily routine…I wake up, shake Dr. C’s foot and after a little caffeine fuel we head off to the gym. I don’t give her a choice…but she is dedicated and I think she really enjoys it. After the workout we head to the steam room and then jump into the crockpot.
The crockpot has a rack that you can slide up on and lay there in the bubbling hot water…delicious. One time I turned to Dr. C like a spoiled aristocrat to complain, “It’s a little cold today. They should turn up the heat.”
Be careful what you wish for. We got in again later that day. It was HOT…too hot and I thought the skin was boiling off of my bones. I got out to sit on the side and cool down. Dr. C stayed up on the rack like a piece of chicken in hot oil. There was a man in there too…relaxed…his eyes closed.
Another woman came in with a towel wrapped around her. Dr. C was climbing out…and passed her on the stairs as she dropped the towel.
She was naked.
Hey….I like naked…but I like private naked and this was not a clothing optional crockpot and she wasn’t Pamela Anderson.
The poor guy who was relaxing turned over and caught a glimpse of the naked lady. He didn’t know where to put his eyes…and the only way out was past her leaning near the stairs. I had to leave…it was too painful to watch.
Pirate Night is always interesting. I bring two outfits with me…one a little skimpier than the other, depending on whether or not I’ve already started on the drink of the day.
On one of the cruises there was an older lady with a long gray braid on the top of her head. She was about five feet tall and shaped like a pear. She was always dancing around and whirling the braid like a propeller. She had fantastic energy though and a lot of confidence and absolutely no self-esteem issues.
Our ship docked at a private beach and I decided to go for a run. As I was heading back down the beach I passed her laying out in all of her glory on a beach towel. She was wearing two stars and a stripe held together by some string. She was laying on her side and opening and shutting her leg.
Each time she opened her leg I saw Australia…and I think I saw New Zealand too…if you know what I mean.
There were five young guys walking behind me…they were the only five guys on the ship with their original testosterone. She stretched and called to them. I looked over my shoulder and saw them stop at her towel. They were trying not to be rude. She leaned up on her elbow and continued to open and close her leg.
There isn’t any amount of pornography that can fix what they witnessed.
I have long hair and I worried that one day I might be headed toward a long gray braid and a loose skin suit with a hint of fabric…but then I saw the drink of the day was being served and that hideous thought left my head.
I had decided to take the horseback riding tour. I have eleven horses who haven’t had a saddle on their backs in months…and I was going to pay a ridiculous amount of money to take a glorified pony ride…but part of the ride was in the ocean….so I DIDN’T CARE…I was totally psyched.
I was early for the tram, so I took a seat near the sign in desk. A cool cat named Watermelon Slim approached me holding two little Dutch flags. He was tall and skinny with long hair and some kind of mustache that is too long on one side.
He proceeded to do a combination martial arts/geisha dance. After each intricate move he would pose and cross the flags across his chest. I looked around to see if anyone else was enjoying his performance. I was the only one. When he finished he took a little bow. I clapped…a little too enthusiastically. He was about to start the encore when thankfully the tram pulled up.
There was a blind woman with a seeing eye dog on the tram. She was taking the horseback ride. She was beautiful with long blonde hair and a knock out body. She looked like Lady Godiva on her horse.
There were also two Spanish women who had never ridden and were chattering nervously. I noticed an older lady wearing britches with her sandals. Huh.
There is only one reason why someone does this…so everyone will know she is a rider.
I hoped I got to ride near National Velvet…this was going to be good. A British woman was sitting near me waiting to mount. She was eyeing the chick in the britches too.
I have been a rider for a long time. I always consider myself a beginner when I am riding someone else’s horses. I keep my mouth shut and let them tell me what to do.
The stable hand put me on a horse and when he saw me take the reins and put my feet in the stirrups he asked me if I was a rider. I said yes.
He told everyone else to follow me into the ring. By the time everyone was mounted I ended up right behind National Velvet. She was already giving riding advice to the Spanish women. They began shrieking because their horses had stopped to pee…ayyyyyeeee ayyyyyyeeee.
This was going to be fun.
National Velvet couldn’t get her horse to move. She was right in front of me. I was last in line. The guide told her not to let the horse ride HER. She wasn’t listening…she was too busy leaning over to tell the horse what to do. We were going up a hill and she dropped her reins over the horse’s head.
The horses the two Spanish girls were riding took a step or two at a trot as they headed up the hill and they were shrieking again…ayyyyyeeee ayyyyeeee.
National Velvet’s horse was lifting one hoof at a time every fifteen seconds. We had to stay in a single line so I was still at the bottom of the hill at a stand still.
The guide rode back to me and winked. “I’ll make it up to you Tennessee.”
We finally made it back down to the beach for the water ride and took off our shoes. The guide told me to stay right behind him. We rode the horses into the surf and took off at a ball’s ass run…leaving everyone behind us. It was glorious. When we reached the end of the beach, we turned and flew past the others who were plopping along. As we raced by them, I hear the Spanish girls shrieking…
At the other end of the beach he turned and raised his hand to me. “All right…high five me…cowgirl from Tennessee.”
It was a total blast. National Velvet’s britches were soaked and she looked like she sucked on a lemon. The Spanish chicks were chattering at a dog whistle decibel. I decided not to take the tram back and took a run down the beach instead. I beat them back…
This year is shaping up to be another fantastic voyage…
I still haven’t packed and I have to find my pirate costume…
Day Three Hundred and Thirty Eight…yo ho ho…for now…