[ad_1]
In 45 cruises, never have I experienced rough seas, a “man overboard” (or woman or child for that matter) or an outbreak of norovirus, which, to refresh your memory, was the “it” disease on ships until the arrival of you-know-what.
So, while this quasi-cruise addict can’t claim to have seen everything, at least not yet, it hasn’t always been smooth sailing for this sea-legged scribe. We’re not talking about a cheeseburger that went MIA after ordering from the Discovery Princess onboard app, or Disney Wish guest relations telling me hours after sailaway that my suitcase didn’t make it on the ship and they wouldn’t reimburse me for even one day’s worth of clothes. These stories are far better than that, and, not surprisingly, many are from a Carnival “Fun Ship.”
Paring the most eyebrow-raising moments to a manageable few was as difficult as dragging myself to a ship’s fitness center — something to which my fellow cruisers can relate if we’re being honest. Speaking of truthfulness, while all cruisers have their own sail tales that may or may not be sprinkled with embellishment, these retellings contain no gilded lilies of the water kind.
Close quarters
Barely a minute after settling into my little cabin on the Nile Queen for a five-night cruise from Luxor to Aswan, the Egyptian purser paid a visit to deliver this perplexing news with a discomforting grin: “You’ll be sharing your cabin with Michael and he’s about an hour out.” Michael who? Sharing? Over my mummified body! What was explained to me after I angrily packed up, got off the boat and checked into a hotel was that a booking agent at Aggressor Adventures assumed I would be cool having a stranger share my stateroom for a handful of cramped and awkward nights with lord knows what sounds keeping me up. Oh, and during a pandemic. This pyramid scheme does have a happy ending: My trip changed from a river cruise to the land tour of a lifetime. And Michael, whoever and wherever you are, you’re welcome for the single cabin.
Kitchen nightmare
Jet-lagged on my first night in the Galapagos, I felt like taking up the captain’s open invitation and make a 1 a.m. visit to the wheelhouse of Ecoventura’s 20-passenger yacht, Theory. On the way to the bridge, I noticed that the outside galley door was open – a peculiar sight as both cooks had turned in for the night hours earlier. Peering into the kitchen, my bloodshot eyes saw gulls eating from an exposed rice bin, raw meat left out and unrefrigerated, uncovered bowls of oil and shortening, and a filthy floor. After shooing the birds away, I slammed the door shut. The purser got a lecture from me the next morning and in return I got an apology and assurance that she’d deal with the galley staff personally. So glad I packed lots of protein bars for the rest of the voyage. That I didn’t make a bigger issue of these presumed health violations earned me some privileges, like letting me perilously photograph a surprise shark frenzy mere inches from the carnage right off the stern.
A more appetizing food story is my personal record of 11 lobster tails conquered on a Panama Canal cruise aboard the Island Princess. Each succulent section was better than the last … until the seventh when I hit the wall but persevered out of respect to the sacrificial crustaceans.
Mortified magician
Little did I know that being candid with a ship’s officer would subject my family to one of the most humiliating moments of our lives. When asked by a Carnival Conquest higher-up if we enjoyed the magician who performed sleight of hand between courses at the exclusive Chef’s Table supper, I gave the “so-so” gesture of a teetering flat hand. If I had responded with, “Oh, just wonderful,” we wouldn’t have been visited by Máté the Not-So-Great the following night in the main dining room. Nearly in tears and speaking in a soft voice, the Hungarian begged my forgiveness for “ruining” our cruise. If Southwest Airline’s “Wanna Get Away?” ad campaign had been around back then, I would have swum to shore to take the next plane out. So I did what every embarrassed coward would do and hid my face in my hands until the magician made himself disappear. Someone else who conveniently vanished for the remainder of the cruise was the two-striped blabbermouth officer.
Indoor downpour
Labadee, Haiti, was sunny and blue for the Wonder of the Seas’ first-ever call on its news-making inaugural cruise. Unfortunately for the world’s largest cruise ship, the dry weather conditions outside didn’t also apply inside. While most passengers were in port, those onboard witnessed a man-made downpour on the retail-dotted Royal Promenade. The torrential rain caused by malfunctioning fire sprinklers led to the massive fire doors coming down and temporary closures. That the shops and bars were reopened in mere hours after such a deluge was a water-displacing miracle almost on the level of Moses parting the Red Sea.
Bed check
No water was dripping from above my twin bed and yet upon returning to my Carnival Inspiration cabin, in the very spot that would make one question their bladder control, was a nasty stain. No way was that there before housekeeping came by, leading me and my cousin to wonder if the cabin steward was using soiled sheets and how he didn’t notice. As we vacated the room so that a different attendant could remake the bed, I felt compelled to leave a note on my pillow that read, “Wasn’t me!”
Lost in translation
The Croatian photographer aboard the Celebrity Solstice wanted my wife and me to pose in front of a plain green screen backdrop on elegant night. When asked what image will become the background, he said, “Sheep. Both of you will be in front of sheep.” He was surprised by my perplexed expression. “What a strange backdrop for an Alaskan cruise. A moose makes more sense than a sheep,” I told the heavily accented photographer. Fortunately, a man who was eavesdropping chimed in. “He’s saying ‘ship,’ not ‘sheep!’ The background will be our ship!” the passenger said. We all shared in the biggest laugh of the cruise.
Going old school
Apparently, the maitre d’ of the Carnival Valor didn’t get the memo that misogyny is frowned upon by the world’s largest cruise line and pretty much all of Western society. So, how shocking it was to hear him take the mic and welcome guests of the main dining room on the first night with, “All you women must be excited. No more cooking and no more cleaning!” Perhaps our dinner host was getting in the spirit of Carnival’s upcoming 50th anniversary, acting as if it was 1972 instead of a month shy of 2022.
Look out below!
Exploring the Majesty of the Seas before sailaway to Cuba, my boys and I discovered that a section of the ship’s ceiling had fallen onto the carpet and the panel from where it came was dangling dangerously above. So, naturally, we decided to prank passersby by having one of my sons appear knocked out with a head injury. Not a single crew member walked by in the 10 minutes my oldest son laid on the floor with a piece of ship on his skull, and the guests who did notice the lifeless body seemed more concerned about getting to the buffet.
No Danish for you
Was it too much to ask the German-based crew of the Viking Spirit for a table for two on the night of our 20th anniversary? Apparently so because we were told “no” despite five tables sitting unused in the dining room. “That section is closed,” the hostess said without an apology or best wishes on our marital milestone. The river cruise from Paris to Normandy was wrought with such rudeness. The Danish pastry that was hyped at the welcome reception was gone by 6 a.m. on the first morning. “All I see are crumbs,” I told guest services. “The crew ate them,” the purser smirked. “But they’re baking more, right?” I asked, to which she snapped back, “No — you have to get up really early!” Six in the morning isn’t early enough? And what’s with the crew eating our food?
Dressed to impress
Walking back to my cabin to turn in and get out of my suit and tie, I thought about how underdressed I felt being the only gentleman not wearing a tuxedo on “Gala Night” aboard Cunard’s swanky Queen Elizabeth. That is, until a lady wearing nothing but her birthday suit put out her “do not disturb” door hanger the very second I passed her stateroom. Her blasé reaction could have been because she probably had her first birthday about 75 years earlier, or that she was completely snockered. Whatever the case, this bloke in the Men’s Wearhouse suit no longer felt underdressed.
Gator sighting
After six nights of being greeted by a sunglasses-wearing dog, hanging monkey, googly-eyed snake and other cute critters in our cabin on the Carnival Conquest, the mother of all towel animals had my wife screaming bloody murder. Waiting for us in our stateroom was an 8-foot-long alligator made of dark blue pool towels that in dim lighting looked way too real. The stowaway snapper was the pièce de resistance by our linens-skilled steward, and earned him a tip almost as big as his gator.
Hirsute hijinks
The “Hairy Chest Contest” is all but gone from ships, but for decades this poolside pastime was often the biggest offender of any family-friendly cruise. Carnival put this crowd favorite on hiatus with the industry’s restart in 2021 and permanently manscaped these displays of debauchery in August. Of all the impromptu strippers, cross dressers and other guys-gone-wild who brought shock and awe to the Lido deck, the most tragic was this dude who jumped from the top steps to impress the female judges. To the horror of hundreds around the pool, he slipped on his landing and broke a leg. The poor guy not only came in third place, but was on crutches the rest of the cruise. Not sure what was worse between the physical pain or being the laughing stock of the ship for six days.
[ad_2]
Source link
