Saturday, June 11, 2005

A Day at Sea

The day after Nassua is spent on the boat. I remember boarding Glory the day before and running straight for the bar. I also remember asking the kids to grace us with their presence for the dinner hour. I remember we shared a table with some charming people from Kentucky. Despite the fact that she was missing most of her teeth (I thought that was a false stereotype?) they were quite pleasant. She and her husband were joined on the cruise by their five-year old grandson. The couple informed us that they had spent the previous 8 months coaching their grandson in acceptable table manners in preparation for this cruise. He was actually quite marvelous, this child. He ordered steak as an appetizer, steak as an entree, and steak for dessert. Then he quite matter of factly announced, "I have to pee now" and got up from the table. His grandfather appeared mortified, but we assured them all that "peeing" is mild dinner conversation in this family.
The next morning I slipped into my swimsuit and announced it was pool time. My husband slipped into his work-out stuff and kissed my angelic forehead, announcing that he was headed to the gym. Why? Why would he torture himself while on vacation? The poor dear. I grabbed a book, towel, sunglasses, sunscreen, and my Sail n' Sign card and headed for the boobie deck. Now, let me explain that aside from the view, the boobie deck has two very distinct advantages: The breeze is perfecto, and there is almost ALWAYS a crew member ready to take your order - sometimes two strapping young men just waiting in the corner for a sign from the gods that a topless woman wants him to come closer. Two hours into my sun time, and LoveBug appears.
"It's not even noon, honey."
"What are you drinking?"
"Orange Juice."
"With what?"
"I don't think so. Let me taste."
*chugs glass* "Sorry, all gone. I swear it was juice. Here, smell the glass!"
"Vodka is oderless, honey."
Damn, foiled again.

I got some great sun that day, but my husband had a surprise in store. He had booked us for a treatment at the spa! Dizzy with excitement, I hugged him for all he was worth. We got to the spa and I filled out the obligatory paperwork. My spa gal escorted me back to the private room and had me strip down to the nude, instructing me to put on only the very sheer paper granny panties. "This is odd" I thought, but obliged. She returned and proceeded to MEASURE ME then slathered me with some oil. I hopped up on the table at her request, and she wrapped me in gauze and slathered green gook all over my midsection and thighs. She hooked electrodes to my ass and gut, then left the room. For the next 45 minutes I was shocked and buzzed. She returned and went into hard sell mode.
"Have you ever thought of liposuction"
Oh god...
"Because it's not safe, and can leave you lumpy. However if you have two more of these treatments, and buy $300 worth of our exclusive detoxification pills, you'll get the same results."
Oh god...
She measured me at the end of the treatment and assured me that I had lost 6 inches of fat. My shorts say different. I left the torture chamber and met my husband in the lobby of the spa. Next to him, a sack of pills.
"I thought we could share them"
"It's okay - I've had enough voodoo to last a lifetime."

We skipped the formal dinner, as my husband neglected to pack a jacket, and the various and assorted children were none too happy to have the night off from familial obligations. Occassionally we spotted the illusive children, but they're pretty quick and were able to take cover before we could converse with them. We lost some more money in the casino, we had a few cigars and brandy at the jazz bar, and then turned in for a goonight's rest.
Tomorrow - St. Thomas