Alright, well I’m not dead. I apologize for the silence but I’ve been either terribly busy to too blah to write anything. But, finally, here I am.

First things first, I plan to tell you about my cruise. Then I’ll fill you in on the recent happenings here in Bmore. I have a lot to say about the cruise, so it’ll probably come in installments. Here’s the first bit.

The Cruise That Almost Wasn’t

Since before I left West Virginia, my brother, sister, sister-in-law, and I had been planning to go on a cruise to the Caribbean. Flights and cruise packages were paid for by the end of November. Bags were packed by Friday, January 28th…and were nearly unpacked as Megan came down with a stomach virus and it looked as though Wayne and Cheryl would be unable to go. But my little girl recovered control of her digestive functions the next evening and that little branch of the Garris family set out to the airport in Charleston.

They arrived at Yeager airport to find that their flight had been delayed two hours due to snow. After the two-hour wait, they boarded, waited another hour, and then the flight was canceled due to snow and unsafe landing conditions in Atlanta, GA. Okay…so no major worries yet. Rose and I weren’t slated to leave until Sunday, January 30th anyway so they could afford the delay. But I was worried. What if they couldn’t get a flight on the 30th?

Leavin’ on a Jet Plane

Sunday morning came quickly. (Much like my date the night before. Okay…strike that. I didn’t have a date the night before.) And it came covered with snow!!! About four inches to be exact! I looked out the window and thought to myself, “Oh this is lovely! Now our flight needs to get delayed and no one will be able to go!”

Getting to BWI proved to be no problem, however, as my friend Colin had volunteered himself and his Subaru Imprezza 2.5 RS as transportation. Armed with all-wheel-drive we arrived at the airport in record time in spite of my poor directions and the white mess on the roads. We said our heartfelt words of thanks to Colin and hurried inside the airport to find out flight delayed only by 20 minutes! Hurray! It seemed that we would see palm trees yet that day!

Now that I knew for certain I would be flying to Tampa my nerves started tingling with anxiety. I had never been on a plane before! “What if we crash and die?”, I worried, “Oh well…I’ve had a good run. And if I die I won’t have to worry about repaying my college loans.”

About an hour later, I found myself squeezing down the narrow walkway of Southwest Flight 369, the first jet I had ever set foot on. It was much smaller than I anticipated and much more uncomfortable. Rose and I were unable to find seats together, so she sat next to a young black couple and I took the seat directly behind her, next to a forty-something caucasian husband an wife who looked like they’d just stumbled off the set of an 80’s television show. The wife was nervously biting her fingernails, her entire boy quivering with anxiety, as her husband murmured soothing words of reassurance to her.

I too was somewhat nervous, especially when the captain announced that the plane would need to be de-iced before we could take off. So I whipped open my sister’s book, The Most Evil Men and Women in History, and began reading to distract myself. After approximately 15 minutes and the story of Agrippa the Younger, I heard something splash against the right wall of the jet and looked up to find an orange liquid being hosed over the side of the plane. After about 15 more minutes and the story of Lizzie Borden, the aircraft began moving into position on the runway and the captain announced that we would soon be taking off. I put down the book and double checked my seat belt and waited, hands clutching my purse a little more tightly than necessary.

We began moving forward, the scenery rolling by slowly at first, 20, 30, 40 mph. And then we were traveling 50, 60, 70, 80, 90 mph, things whipping past the window, and the passengers bouncing in their seats. The engines roaring in my ears, we moved faster and faster until I felt the lift, felt the plane leave the earth, felt myself forced back into my seat a bit. We moved upward bit by bit and then leveled off. “Ding! This is your captain speaking. Thank you for flying Southwest airlines…blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”

Before long I was served peanuts, Ritz Crackers, and Sprite. I munched, read, gazed at the tops of the clouds out the window for a moment, and then took a wee nap during the two-hour flight to Tampa. Rose woke me as we neared our destination and handed me some gum. I began chomping as the plane began its descent, and I understood why she had given me the gum. My ears began popping with a minor bit of pain, but that was the last thing on my mind. I was peeping out the window, across the 80s couple, and admiring the beautiful, sparkling blue waters of Tampa Bay. And watching the land grow nearer and nearer. My anxiety spiked just before the landing. We were low, very close to the ground with buildings and things flying by the window. The landing gear touched the earth and the passengers bounced in unison. We touched again. Bounce. Touch. Bounce. Touch and then we were rolling down the runway, breaking hard, and rolling to a stop.

Tampa

Rose and I gathered our carry-ons and headed off the plane toward the luggage terminals. Our luggage arrived in tact and upon checking our cell phones, we learned that the Charleston branch of the Garris family had finally boarded a plane and would be arriving in Tampa in a couple of hours. Whatever dark cloud had been hovering over the start of our trip appeared to be dissipating. Or so it seemed. :)

The Insufferable Wench
Burnsy was there at the airport waiting for us and greeted us with a warm smile and a bear hug. We hopped in his car, rolled down the windows, and let the 70 some degree wind blow through our hair. Since the rest of the Garris clan wouldn’t be arriving till dinner, we decided to grab some lunch and go meet Krisi, whom I now refer to as Sean’s Insufferable Wench.

We picked up Wendy’s and headed to the cute little house that was Krisi and her children’s home. Upon stepping inside we were met with the strong smell of cat piss and the sound of children playing. Jacob greeted us warmly, as energetic wee ones are wont to do, and his mother was polite, but didn’t seem thrilled by our visit. The baby just stared. We made polite conversation and ate while trying not to breathe through our noses. After lunch we sat on the couch and talked a bit. I colored with Jacob and was deeply disturbed by the fact that he wanted to make everyone in the coloring book bleed by coloring them red. Sean began complaining of stomach pain and nausea. Krisi finally made her way to Sean’s computer and ignored everyone, including her children, for the remainder of the visit. Wayne called to say they had arrived and were taking a taxi to the Howard Johnson. Krisi whined a bit about Sean taking his computer, so he left it. She then took us outside to gloat over the new van that he had bought for her. We oohhed and aaahhed as she expected, said our goodbyes, and then piled in Sean’s car.

On the drive to the Howard Johnson to meet my family, Sean asked me what I thought of Krisi. I asked him if he wanted the truth or a sugar-coated, easier to swallow pill. He opted for the truth. I informed him that Krisi struck me as whiney, self-centered, bitchy, and lazy. I also told him that I didn’t think she was all that hot and couldn’t understand why he’d had his panties in a wad over her. And I told him to get a paternity test.

At the end of that pleasant conversation, we found ourselves at the Howard Johnson and were reunited with the kinfolk for the first time since Christmas. We discussed the series of unfortunate events that nearly prevented the trip and made our way to collect the rest of the cruise gang, Cheryl’s sister, brother-in-law, nephew, and brother in their hotel rooms.

We have angered the Poo Gods!
Once all were together we headed to the steakhouse next door to have dinner. On the walk there, I noted the three strip clubs across the street, and a demolished hotel room wall with yellow caution tape sectioning off the area. During dinner, Raymond (Cheryl’s brother), shared his account of how he had been reclining peacefully in his bed the night before watching television, when he heard a loud noise and felt the bed, the walls, and everything begin to rattle and shake. The TV jumped, the lights flickered, and he thought for sure that he had scheduled his vacation on the eve of the Apocalypse. But the vibrations stopped and he stepped outside his hotel room to look around and found that a few doors down, just around the corner of the building, someone had driven their vehicle into the wall of the hotel. Luckily no one was injured.

Wayne wondered if the accident had somehow affected the plumbing in the hotel, as just moments before Rose, Sean, and I arrived, the toilet had exploded water all over the walls and floor of their bathroom. Raymond announced in a very solemn tone, “We have angered the Poo Gods! We have not talked enough about Poo! We must make an offering to them so that their wrath will not be provoked once more!” We laughed and wondered what else would go wrong on our vacation.

The Unhappy Little Pancreas
I noticed that Burnsy was looking quite uncomfortable and hadn’t even touched the steak dinner that he’d ordered. He complained of stomach troubles, so we thought it best we head back to his apartment so that he could rest. We said goodbye to the Garris clan and went to the home of the Sean.

Well, typical of Sean, the TV was bigger than the sofa. There was no bed, just an air mattress and a futon mattress. He was in the process of moving and everything was in a general state of disarray. Since we were all tired we went straight to bed. Rose and I opted for the futon as Sean was obviously ill and in pain and would benefit from the comfort of the air mattress. I advised Sean to see a doctor first thing in the morning. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head touched the towel that I was using as a pillow.

At about midnight I woke to Sean shaking me. He was clutching his belly, his face contorted in pain, as he reported his decision to go to the hospital. Bewildered and confused from sleep, I sat for a minute not comprehending what he was telling me. I watched him gather his wallet and phone, and then clarity set in and I offered to take him. He said, “No, no. I’m sure it’s nothing major and I’ll be back by morning. I’m just going to the ER of the hospital down the road here. About 4 miles. You sleep. I’ll call you to let you know what’s going on. See you in the morning.”

I did as I was told and went back to sleep, but I kept waking and checking the time. As the early hours of the morning crept by, my worry increased. I called his cell phone at about 4am and then at 6am. Finally he called me back at about 8:30am and told me that he has been diagnosed with Pancreatitis and would be in the hospital for a few days. I wanted to visit him before I left, but he requested that I leave him alone with his pain medication and the sweet, sweet oblivion that it induced. I honored his request.

Rose and I showered, gathered our things, and caught a Yellow Cab to the Port of Tampa. Our cab driver’s name was Don, a 50-something longhaired hippy complete with ponytail and purple silk shirt, who answered my questions about his job and his typical customers with a large degree of amusement. He looked at me to make sure I wasn’t taking notes and accused me of being a columnist.

The Poo Gods strike again!
We met up with the Garris/Cummings clan at the Port to learn that strip clubs, demolished walls, and exploding toilets were only the beginnings of the charm of the Tampa Ho Jo. Indeed, Cheryl’s brother-in-law witnessed a drug deal while doing laundry, watched a woman attempt to pedal her flesh for money, and the sewer outside of Wayne, Cheryl, and Meg’s hotel room began seeping out human waste in the early morning hours, leaving a large pool of shite outside their door. Luckily they were able to get around it and were not forced to walk through it.

The Inspiration

Finally, after much stress and strange happenings, we had arrived at the Port of Tampa and boarded our Carnival Cruise ship, the Inspiration. (I still can’t get Peter Cetera’s voice out of my head whenever I think of it.) We entered through a room called the Grand Spectrum, and was it ever grand. The Grand Spectrum consisted of seven floors with a brass and glass elevator in the center, fantastic and fanciful wall ornaments, bright blue patterned carpet, a one flight ornate brass and blue stained glass staircase just below the elevator, a curved dark stone bar just below the stairs, with a piano and string duet just off to the right, and the room crowned with a gigantic skylight that spanned nearly the entire ceiling. I had entered another world. I felt like I had stepped onto the set of the Titantic, except it was a Titantic whose décor had been influenced by someone on an acid trip.

Our cabins weren’t quite ready, so we made our way to one of the many buffet style cafeterias, the Brasserie Bar & Grill, to get some lunch. The Brasserie, like the rest of the ship, had bright carpet, and odd futuristic, acid-tripish ornaments on the ceilings and walls. These particular ones were large purple spider web like tubes that wound their way all over the ceiling. After heaping my plate full of food I looked around for a place to pay and then realized that I didn’t have to. All of my meals were included in the cost of the cruise, so I could go back a billion times and never be charged. Neato! Cruises are so geared toward fat people!

After lunch Rose and I found our cabin, U-183. The U stood for Upper deck, which was deck 6, which meant that we were six decks from the bottom of the ship. Interesting, isn’t it? After unpacking and getting settled in U-183, we went to the mandatory lifeboat drill with the rest of the clan. We sat though a short demonstration of what to do if we were in danger of sinking, the proper way to wear a life vest, and where and how to board the lifeboats. Meg was full of questions throughout the drill. Now you try explaining to an innocent three-year-old child that in case the boat starts to sink, we have to wear these orange things, and get in these white boats so that we won’t drown. Yeah.

Once the drill was over, we found ourselves with a bit of time on our hands before the formal dinner at 5:45pm. So Rose and I walked about the ship and wound up exploring about half of it before dinner. There were 14 decks total, three of which were off limits to passengers as they were engine rooms and cargo holds and such. Four decks held nothing but sleeping cabins. The remaining six decks held a photo gallery where you could view and purchase pictures taken of you by Carnival photographers during your stay, two formal dinning rooms, a large play area for the children, a library, a piano bar, a mini mall, a casino, a sushi bar, a café, two dance clubs, two small themed bars, a karaoke lounge, a live performance theater/stage, a kid’s swimming pool, and two adult swimming pools (one with a slide), three outdoor Jacuzzis, a pizzeria, three poolside bars, a poolside stage, a beauty salon, a gym, a spa, a jogging track, and several sundecks for sunbathers. In short, the ship was ginormous!

Dining with Isabel and Richie
Dinner was quite a pleasant experience. Our whole Garris/Cummings crew was seated at the same table and we had a lovely view of the ocean and the fading tip of Florida from the window to the right of the table. Our waiters introduced themselves to us that evening. Isabel was a thirty-something boisterous, bald, black man from Honduras who had the most fantastic accent. The man who introduced himself as Richie was in his late twenties, was very quick, always smiling, struggled a bit with the English language, and was from Thailand. He said that he would tell us his real name, but expected that we would never be able to pronounce it properly, and stated that he was quite fond of the name Richie.

That night, and all week long, we enjoyed the world of fine dining and were looked after by our two very efficient waiters. I ordered things I couldn’t pronounce and I ate things that I still have no clue as to what they were. I ate some fabulous food on that trip and was pampered at dinner like never before. As I sat down each night Isabel or Richie would lay my napkin in my lap. If I got breadcrumbs on the table or dropped a morsel of my food, they were there to sweep it up with a napkin. I didn’t have to think about what silverware to use as they provided it for me and took it away the moment I indicated that I was done. A few nights, the waiters paused in their duties to gather in the middle of the dining room and sang to us all. It was awesome!

One night Richie had a few moments to talk with us and shared a bit of his story. He left Thailand to work on the Carnival Cruise line and he sends a portion of his paycheck home to his parents. Soon however, he will be marrying and the money will go to his wife and the family they will build. He seemed incredibly thankful for the opportunity to work there and appeared to love his job.

Actually, everyone on the ship appeared to love his or her job. Even the maids. Which got me to thinking that maybe I should go to work on a cruise ship. Traveling from port to port constantly. Working along side people from all over the world. How fun and interesting would that be?

Karaoke, Sponge Bob, & the King of the World
But I digress. Back to the story. After dinner, Raymond, Wayne, Cheryl, and I went to the Candlelight Lounge to listen karaoke. Of course, it was amusing as hell. Wayne and I were going to perform but couldn’t agree on a song. Alas, Carnival Cruise lines karaoke bar never witnessed our glory.

After the karaoke, Wayne and Cheryl went back to their cabin and Raymond and I decided to explore the ship’s bars and nightclubs. We made our way, first, to the Avant Garde Lounge where we were met with 30, 40, and 50 somethings grooving to Top 40 and oldies played by a Mexican cover band. It was pretty damn boring if not somewhat depressing, so we finished our drink and walked toward the Rock & Roll Disco in hopes of finding a younger crowd and more interesting antics. We found both. The crowd there was mostly in their 20s and 30s or slightly younger. The DJ was cranking out dance music and hip-hop favorites and the young attractive whores and boys were grinding all over each other. We perused the crowd for possible love connections and both agreed that our cruise ship did not seem to be a love boat. At least not for us. So we just started drinking heavily and laughing at the people dancing.

One dude, who had to be in his 40s, was dressed in a bright yellow Sponge Bob Squarepants t-shirt with bright red flannel pajama-looking pants that had little yellow Sponge Bobs all over them. He was drunk and he was dancing. This was bad for Sponge Bob, as we called him, but good for us. Initially, Sponge Bob was dancing all by himself, but then he wiggled his was up to some 20 something hottie and attempted to dance with her. The girl humored him for a few seconds and then danced over to the other side of the room with her friends. Sponge Bob was rejected about four times in the manner, but he kept on dancing, baby! His face was blood red, he was breathing terribly hard, and alternating between biting his tongue and making those stupid open-mouthed dancing faces, all the while shaking his groove thing as hard as it would shake. Raymond and I were wondering which would happen first: if Sponge Bob would pass out from drunkenness or collapse from exhaustion and possible heart attack.

At about 2:30am the alcohol began kicking my ass and we decided to leave the wonder of the Rock & Roll disco to go back to our cabins. On the way there I had an impulsive desire to see the front of the boat. Well…we sort of got lost because we were a wee bit tipsy and wound up at the back of the boat. Front. Back. Well at least there was water I could look at!!
We stepped out onto the deck and instantly my hair was beating me in my face and I clutched my shawl around me so that I wouldn’t lose it. I walked to the railing and looked down at the black waters churning below as the boat cut through them. And then I yelled, “I’m the King of the World! I am the King of the Motha’ Fuckin’ World!!!” And then I made Raymond yell it once. After some drunken conversation, giggling, and stumbling, we made our ways back to our cabins and passed out.

A Day at Sea
I awoke the next morning to the sounds of Rose getting ready for breakfast. I groggily asked her what time it was and learned that it was 8:00am. She asked me if I wanted to come to breakfast and I became suddenly aware of my intense desire to urinate. I sat up and the room started moving. I gripped the wall and steadied myself on my way to relieve my bladder. While I was sitting on the toilet, enjoying that wonderful feeling of relief one gets from peeing when you really gotta go, I put my hands over my face waiting for my senses to steady themselves. I lowered my hands. “Wow!” I said, “I must’ve gotten really wasted last night! I’m still drunk! I feel like the room’s moving to the right and then to the left and to the right and then the left. Oh god, it won’t stop!”

Rose started laughing and I finished in the rest room and stumbled back to my bed. I looked at her sitting on her bed, with an amused smile on her face, putting on her make up. “What?” I asked. “Well, the room IS moving to the right and then to the left and to the right. We’re at sea, Chris.” God I felt, like a dumb ass!

I was hung over, however, as the sunlight pouring in through the glass walls of the cafeteria stung my eyes and the smell of eggs and bacon plus the movement of the ship made me feel a wee bit nauseous. I sat down with Meg and Cheryl and waited for Rose to bring me some water and bread. I ate croissants with butted and salt and drank about 5 glasses of water. Word to the wise: DO NOT get drunk your first night on the cruise ship! The hang over is a bitch!

After drinking all that water, I felt somewhat better so I headed up to the pool to sunbathe. I found a spot on the upper deck where the sun was beating down on me perfectly, and the wind blew constantly. Everywhere I looked, I could see only the ocean surrounding us. The air smelled like the sea. And I laid in the sun for hours just enjoying the peacefulness of it all.

That evening we attended the Captain’s Dinner, which was the super formal night in the dining room. Some men wore tuxedos, some nice dress shirts and ties; some ladies wore evening gowns, or the traditional little black dress. I opted for the little black dress. Everyone looked great and it was fun to get all dressed up and swanky-like.

After dinner we attended the first Las Vegas style singing and dancing show, entitled El Nuevo Caribe. The theater/stage was quite large and beautiful, with huge gold and green sequined curtains hanging from the stage and soft cushioned brocade stadium seating in the same colors. The lights dimmed, the curtain parted, and a live mini-orchestra played as the singers sang and the dancers danced and the acrobats tumbled. It was an awesome show complete with intricate, flashy, and revealing costumes for the performers, rotating portions of the stage, fog machines, lighting effects, and a creepy Jamaican sounding narrator who kept saying, “El Nuevo Caribe!!!” and laughing maniacally. There was something for everyone. Men could enjoy the scantily clad female dancers and the women could enjoy the scantily clad and well toned male dancers. Rose and I were particularly fond of Andres from Brazil. Andres! Grrrr!!!

For the rest of the trip, if someone said they weren’t feeling well or they were tired or something wasn’t going according to plan I said, “You know what it is don’t you? It’s the Curse of El Nuevo Caribe!!!!!!” Hey…it was funny at the time.