Honeymoon Blog - 10/10/2008

One of the things that Alicia and I have been looking forward to since the start of our honeymoon is the opportunity to have stories to tell for the rest of our lives – stories that we could pass on to the kids and they could tell to others. This day was full of them. For that reason I’ve decided that today’s theme is “Wow, did that just happen??” Here’s the pictures to go with today’s blog.

Since we had such a pleasant experience at breakfast yesterday we decided to have breakfast in the dining room again, both because the food was good and because I liked meeting new people. They sat us at a table very close to the back of the ship, where we could look out the windows and see the wake and the churned-up water from the propellers. Because we were now one day closer to the Bahamas and just about to enter the Bermuda triangle the ocean was a deep, royal blue. We sat next to a nice couple from Pennsylvania and two elderly women who were traveling with a musical group called “Rosie and the Jammers.” (accordion music meets 60’s rock) I sat closest to the two women. The woman sitting right next to me, whom I thought had very pretty, stylish blond hair for someone her age, asked me if Alicia and I were on our honeymoon. I told her we were. The following conversation then took place.

“How long did you two go together before you got married?” She asked.
“Well we met at the end of January, this year, so it been just over 9 months.”
“Oh, that’s very soon. My husband and I were together for 15 years before we married.”
“Oh, really? That’s very special.”
“Well, he’s dead now.”
(Slightly surprised) “Oh I’m sorry to hear that.”
“We were only married for five years. Shortly after we got married he had a stroke. The doctors told him that he was going to have another one, so he put a gun in his mouth and shot himself.”
(My omelet-filled fork stops mid-air)

Now, it’s not often that I’m caught completely off-guard. I waited for her to say “just kidding” or something to let me know that I could laugh, but the relief never came. She just stared at me with her sweet, old lady eyes. I mustered up as much sympathy as I could amidst my total mortification and said “That’s… horrible… I’m… so sorry… that happened.” I reached under the table and grabbed Alicia’s leg, then began to shovel food into my mouth so I could use my manners and not talk with my mouth full. Breakfast ended and we said good-bye to everyone and got our tails out of there.

The next activity we decided to engage in on our quest to dominate the ship was a true demonstration of Alicia’s willingness to humor me. We decided to enter ourselves in a bean bag tossing competition. If you never knew this, there’s an actual sport called “Cornhole.” There are two boards set up roughly 15 feet apart on the floor, facing each other. The boards have one hole in them and they are slanted at about a 10 – 15 degree angle. Each team is given three bean bags. The teams are divided up and two players, one from each team, stand on opposite sides of one board and the other two players do the same with the other board. Then one player tosses the bean bag and tries to either get it in the hole for 3 points or on the board for 1 point. If your team gets it in the hole and the other team does, too, then the points cancel each other out. If your team gets it in the hole and the other team gets two to stay on the board, then you only get 1 point (and so on). Each team takes turns tossing all three bags. The first team to 7 points wins. So Alicia and I put our names in the bucket and called our team “The Wedding Crashers.” Some other teams we competed against were: “Two To Go” – a married couple about our age that was still living in the time of 80’s big hair bands, “Fruit Loops” – two middle-aged soccer moms, and “The Kids” – two elderly men who still had the same moxie they did when they were 17-year-old street punks. Alicia and I were in the first competition. Alicia tossed first and landed 1 in the hole. The other team tossed their 3 and got nothing. Then I tossed and got 1 in the hole and two on the board. The other team tossed and got one on the board. Game over. We won. We waited patiently while round 1 finished up. Alicia leaned over to me and whispered “We’re gonna get beat by one of these teams of unathletic people. Both the Fruit Loops and the Kids advanced to the next round. Alicia and I were up first again in round 2. It was a back and forth match. Alicia scored most of the points, but we were simply out cornholed. We were defeated by the Fruit Loops.

This seems like a good time to introduce you to someone from the Carnival Activities Crew named Binky. His real name is Shaun Hill, but he mentioned that everyone calls him “Binky.” He encouraged anyone who wanted to know why he was called Binky to stop him and ask. Alicia and I never really had the intestinal fortitude to be around him long enough to find out. Binky is an overweight 30-something with a bleach-blond flat top, thick, dark-rimmed glasses, and a penchant for being really annoying while simultaneously thinking he’s THE reason people decided to board the ship. He’s from Atlanta, so he has a southern accent. My gaydar goes crazy when he enters the room. There’s really no way to adequately describe Binky’s laugh. It’s a raspy cackle that he uses at the end of every sentence. He hosted/referee’d/spoiled the bean bag toss. Please understand that this is man who obviously despises his job and working with people and yet, he’s on the Activities Crew. Every single time a round of tossing was completed without points being scored he’d lean his head back and yell “NO POINTS!” then laugh like the Count from Sesame Street. Then, without pausing, he’d jerk his head forward and announce the team who was supposed to toss next. So it’d sound something like this: “NO POOOINTS!! AH! AH! AH! AH! BLUE team’s turn!!” I swear there were moments when angels of God were holding Alicia back. I’d already heard the distinct “SHING!” of the metal claws coming out of her knuckles and the hairs on her neck were standing on end. I simply found entertainment in watching her cringle and tense up every time he spoke. Later in the day we discovered that the Fruit Loops had won it all. Good for them. We’ll give them ONE trophy.

We returned to our room for a quick change and some R&R, then headed out to the back of the ship to sun and swim on the Lido deck. Another thing no one tells you about cruises is that swimming and sunning isn’t like what they showed you on the Love Boat. The ship was going 21 knots in the open Atlantic Ocean. Sitting out on the deck to get some sun was about as relaxing as sticking your head out of a car going 70 mph to do the same. Not to mention the chaotic sloshing of the pool from side to side. But, dedicated to our cause to “try it all” we waded through the sea of deck chairs and sun-bloated albinos to find our spots at the very rear of the ship along the railing. It was there that we met Nancy and Roger, a nice couple from Saratoga Springs, NY. We had a nice conversation about our stories, their family, our honeymoon, and their son’s fiancée who left him one day before the wedding. We enjoyed meeting them, but after sitting there for 20 minutes talking, Alicia and I both realized that we’d stayed too long with one sides of our body facing the sun and, despite our efforts, would probably be a bit burned later.

We decided that since it was lunchtime, not that we were hungry, it was time to eat. Today’s lunch buffet featured Indian cuisine, which thrilled Alicia. All the dishes were delicious and prepared by actual Indian cooks. I tried everything they offered and liked it all. As was the case with every meal, we were pretty full when we were finished.

Not that I needed to, considering I was married now, but I decided to go and workout again after lunch as my way of coping with the way I had just engorged myself at lunch. (It’s safer than purging). Alicia on the other hand decided that she needed to take a nap if we were to engage in the late-night activities we’d read about in the daily schedule. So while she drifted off to sleep, I stumbled off to the gym. Like showering, working-out takes on a whole new dimension with the rocking of the ship. I managed to compensate well-enough for the dumbbells rolling around on the floor between sets, but I was not prepared for the horror of trying to run on a treadmill on a ship. Just when I’d adjust for the rocking of the ship to the right, it’d roll back to the left and I’d have to stutter-step and adjust my pace. So I surrendered and opted for the stair-climber instead. I worked out for about 40 minutes and headed back to the room to shower and join Alicia in napping.

We napped and napped good. All this eating and bean-bag-tossing can really wear you out. We dressed a little early for dinner so that we could walk around the ship for a bit. Alicia wanted to go by the library and see what kinds of books they had and I just wanted to see parts of the ship I hadn’t seen before. We stopped by the library only to find that it was three locked bookcases with a collection of books made up of what I assume to be books that guests had left behind. There wasn’t much of a selection. But Alicia found some Ted Dekker books she wanted to read so we decided that we’d stop by in the morning and check the books out.

Downstairs from the library was a place called Frankie & Johnnie’s lounge where currently a karaoke party was taking place. Never being one to shy away from the chance to sing karaoke, I asked Alicia humor me once more and allow me to sing. Lovingly she agreed and we found a small table near the stage. It didn’t take me long to find the song I knew I could really nail. I submitted my name and song selection and waited while a slightly tone-deaf old man sang a Frank Sinatra song, a large girl (whom we’d run into later) sang “My Beloved” by Evanescence, a big black guy murdered (no pun intended) a TuPac rap and a white-guy-who-thinks-he’s-black-because-he’s-dating-a-black-girl and said girlfriend did “Me and My Boyfriend/Girlfriend” by Jay-Z and Beyonce. Then it was my turn. I turned to Alicia and informed her of my plans to sing to a random woman in the audience. The DJ called my name. I took the stage. I told the audience that my song was dedicated to someone very special. The crowd aw’d and ooh’d. Then I confessed that it wasn’t who they thought. Turning to Alicia I said “I’m sorry honey, but there’s someone else.” And with that I busted out my best rendition of “It Had To Be You.” When I sang the word “you” I pointed to a black woman sitting to my right. Her eyes became as large as pizzas as I took her hand and led her to a chair I’d placed on stage. I crooned and swooned her. At one point she adjusted her breasts to give her more cleavage. The audience ate it up. When it was all done, the audience applauded and I kissed the hand of the kind woman and led her back to her seat. Alicia and I made a casual exit and headed off to dinner.

The dining room wasn't open yet, so we sat in some massage chairs near some windows just to wait and rest. It was there that we met Dave and Barbara from Connecticut. We told them our story and they were very kind. The dining hall finally opened up and the four of us shuffled in and took our seats at our assigned tables.

After we’d finished dinner, complete with a Shakira dance routine performed by the wait-staff, we decided to head back to the room to kill some time, watch The Office and prepare for our 80’s dance party.

The party was in a place called Frankenstein’s Lab – a 2-story discothèque complete with floor-to-ceiling video screen, lighted floor and 20-foot Frankenstein monster statue. The whole place was rigged up to shoot electrical beams through glass tubes to the beat of the music. Pretty cool. Alicia and raided our closets to assemble the best 80’s costumes we could find given that we hadn’t really brought anything. I have to say that, when we were done, we looked pretty silly, but very 80’s. When were the first ones to arrive and when we walked in… well… I only wish that I’d had a camera to take a picture of the faces the bartenders made. Apparently, we’d taken the newsletter literally. But, without missing a beat, we stayed in character. The music started and we hit the dance floor. We went to work doing our best 80’s dance moves. For a solid 20 minutes we were the only ones dancing. Other couples arrived and began taking pictures of us. We decided it was time for a break and headed to the bar to get ice water. After we left the dance floor, other couples started dancing, so we watched for a bit to cool down. We returned to the dance floor to dance with the other couples. After another 15 minutes we sat down again. This time the Activities staff, complete with Binky, showed up to start the festivities – A big-hair competition, an air-guitar competition and the finale, a Michael Jackson dance-off. We watched the air guitar competition. Two people stood out, Dorian from Philly and Connie from Toronto. Neither actually did anything resembling an air-guitar. Instead Connie did a dead-on air-ukulele and Dorian had an epileptic seizure. Dorian won first place, consisting of a bottle of champagne and a ship on a stick. Cathy got a ship. Next it was time for big hair to shine. I forced Alicia to enter since she was the only one with actual 80’s hair (a sideways pony tail and teased bangs). Each contestant had to walk “the catwalk” and work the camera, showing off their big hair. Alicia did a good job, but alas, there was someone better. Enter the large, karaoke-singing girl, Christine. She went nuts. I mean, throw-all-inhibitions-out-the-window nuts. She shook her stuff, banged her head, threw her hair around and won the audience over. Champagne and ship were hers. Finally it was time for the MJ dance-off. The contestants were called to the stage. I was the first one there. I was the only one there for a long time. Then other contestants trickled in. Against my better judgment I went second. I should’ve gone last. But my time came and I pulled out all the stops. I hit all the moves I could think of – leg kick, pelvic thrust, spin and tippy-toes, moonwalk, and even threw a little Thriller dance in just to seal the deal. The crowd was mine. A woman, who was supposed to be a contestant, ran up to me and bowed at my feet. Then Dorian from Philly went. He began with some pop-n-lock, moved into some robot stuff, some break-dancing, then he spun around, grabbed the lapels of his shirt and ripped it open, sending buttons careening everywhere, while letting out a scream a la MJ in White or Black. The crowd roared. And I knew at that moment that I had lost the contest with one move. I filled 1 minute with vintage moves. Dorian did one move and won the bottle of champagne. I got a ship on a stick. The contest was over. The dance party was over. Alicia and I were exhausted.

We arrived back at our stateroom and began to peel our wet clothes off, literally. We were drenched in our own sweat. Everything was soaked, even the suit coat that I wore with the sleeves rolled up. It was disgusting and yet, strangely satisfying. After showers, Alicia and I laid in bed talking about the night. Alicia encouraged me over and over that I was the best dancer and that I should’ve won. *Sigh* She’s a good wife.

More to come tomorrow.