Ship Shape

Sometimes when we think we are getting away from it all, we inadvertently run headlong into an unexpected maelstrom of events. So, here’s my sad tale of a vacation gone awry. A week of sailing the Eastern Caribbean on a beautiful cruise ship, in the middle of winter, would normally provide sun, fun and gluttonous delights. But, I soon discovered that this time I would become a victim of Murphy’s Law: “Anything that can go wrong---goes wrong.” 

After my plane landed in Ft. Lauderdale, I dutifully wheeled my luggage cart down the street to the bus pick-up station. All the busses stopped at the assigned spot---except mine---which stopped across the street. Seeing me struggling with my cart, an old man jumped out of his wheelchair and began pulling my cart over the curb. I told him to stop, but he didn’t, so I let go, and both he and the cart rolled into the middle of the street. I picked up my cursing cavalier, left the cart, grabbed my suitcase and managed to catch the bus. 

As soon as we boarded the ship, all passengers were herded into the Lido Buffet for lunch. I had never seen a buffet covered with shower curtains. No one could get near the food except for the plastic gloved waiters cowering behind the serving stations. We pointed and they dished, but there were no trays, no silverware, no salt and peppershakers and no sugar bowls. And, a guy with a bottle kept spritzing my hands, my chair and my table. Something was amiss.

As I searched for my cabin, I noticed signs on some of the doors: ”No unauthorized entrance.” Then I realized, I was not on the Good Ship Lollipop. I was on the Ship of Gastrointestinal Contagion, and there was no escape. I am a good swimmer, but not that good! My suitcase arrived with a broken zipper. I met my tablemates. The gentleman with the green complexion sat next to me, and our waiter cheerfully announced, “Tonight’s dinner is my Mama’s Cooking.” At midnight, Mama hit me with an intestinal cleaver. 

The next day, passengers who could still walk, left the ship to enjoy the pleasures of the deep blue sea, while I gazed into the swirling water of my cabin’s toilet. In a couple of days, I felt well enough to eat a hamburger at noon and was back in bed by two. I called the ship’s doctor, who said, “The hamburger was a big mistake, but if you could eat a hamburger, you don’t have what the others do. It’s probably food poisoning or another bug.” I was not confined to cabin, but was ordered to eat bland food---not exactly the easiest thing to find on a cruise ship. Not wanting to submit my tablemates to my diet, I returned to the plastic shrouded Lido for a baked potato. When the waiter behind the curtain said, “We don’t have baked potatoes,” I yelled, “You poisoned me. You go get one.” He did. 

Sunday was “Get Off The Ship Day.” My American Airlines flight was supposed to leave Ft. Lauderdale at one o’clock.  By three o’clock, I knew I had missed my connection from Dallas to Tucson. Consequently, I was put on USAir that flew to Phoenix (with a connection to Tucson). When my plane in Dallas arrived dirty from Heathrow, it had to be cleaned. They must have hired a turtle and two goats to do the job, because by the time they were finished, the plane left an hour late, and I missed my connection in Phoenix. Now it was midnight, and all airline personnel had left the gates in Phoenix, so I went to the Lost Baggage Department. Mistaking me for lost baggage, the agent sent me to a hotel and I caught a flight the next day to Tucson. It took two days to get from Florida to Arizona. In that time, I could have flown to China. 

Here’s the good news: 

1. I lost five pounds on that cruise.

2. The ship didn’t hit an iceberg, and

3. I wasn’t eaten by a shark.

Esther Blumenfeld (don’t rock my boat)