It's funny how things work. If you pretend to be excited about something you're not looking forward to, eventually you will start to believe it. Within days, I was on an absolute high talking about the adventures we would have on board our cruise ship. I didn't even blink when I heard Dumb Dumb mention that we would be sailing on the Carnival Cruise line. "Sounds great!" I said with my teeth tightly clenched; I was not going to allow myself to say anything negative about the cruise line or that maniac, Kathy Lee Gifford.
I started imagining all the ballrooms there would be for me to model my new Roberto Cavalli shoes in. I had no dress to wear with them, but I hoped to find something at Express. I pictured a wonderfully romantic episode of The Love Boat. I would be on the Lido Deck late one starry night in an evening gown looking for the Big Dipper, when a Leonardo DiCaprio look-alike would come up and take me from behind. We would be on the bow and spread our arms out to the sea, and I would yell, "You are the king of the world!"
And who knew what kind of exciting outdoor activities they had? Everyone had told me about all the amazing food on cruises; I couldn't wait to gorge myself on rack of lamb and fresh lobster. Dumb Dumb asked me if I thought they caught the fish right out of the ocean and then served it on board that night. "Probably," I responded. "It seems like the most logical thing to do."
I believed in this cruise and knew it was going to be fun. I daydreamed about all the different love connections that would be made on different floors of our ship. People in and out of cabin doors in the wee hours of the night, walking down the plush red carpets, while upstairs in the Grand Ballroom I would be closing down the dance floor with my new Leo look-alike to a covered rendition of Carly Simon's "Give Me All Night."
Dumb Dumb even agreed to buy a book for the cruise- something she could read while we were lying out in between pool dips. We went to a Barnes and Noble, where I picked up an unauthorized biography of M. C. Hammer, and not wanting to overload her on her first book, I steered Dumb Dumb toward a Choose Your Own Adventure.
The cruise was a four-day, three-night voyage that left from Long Beach and returned on New Year's Day. The morning of the cruise we needed to check in at the dock at nine A.M. I had been in such high spirits leading up to the trip that it was no problem for me to get up at seven-thirty to be there on time, sporting my amazing new attitude while doing so. I was rethinking my whole approach to this game they called Life. Maybe Dumb Dumb was not so stupid after all. Happiness is a choice. I had only just begun preaching my new belief system to Ivory and Lydia, who suddenly and inexplicably stopped speaking to me.
When we got to the dock, we went to Customs and showed our identification. As if loads of Americans were illegally trying to immigrate to Mexico. We checked our bags and got on line with some of our fellow passengers. Judging from the looks of them, it was clear that they were members of a different income bracket from the people I preferred to surround myself with. But since I also wasn't from the income bracket I preferred, I held off on voicing my initial feelings of despair. I was going to give this cruise my best shot. I pointed to a guy standing at the end of the line. "That guy was just totally checking you out," I lied.
"Really?" she asked. "Where?"
"Over there, over there." I pointed again. She saw him.
"He's not even that cute," was her reply. He wasn't that cute, but she was no Miss New Jersey either, so I was surprised at her laissez-faire attitude. I hoped she wasn't thinking about dabbling in my pool of men. I had been at this game awhile and knew my male equivalence. She obviously didn't realize that you needed to stay within realistic boundaries. Dumb Dumb had a few extra pounds on her and, as far as I could tell, wasn't in any hurry to lose them. She wasn't fat, but she wasn't going to be exposing her belly in a half shirt anytime soon without people quickly looking away.
"Well, someone seems to be very picky there, missy," I said.
"I have a good feeling about this cruise," she told me. "I just know I'm going to meet someone."
I knew there was a better chance of me giving birth to a penguin than Dumb Dumb meeting her soul mate aboard this cruise ship, but my new loving heart prevailed. My main focus was going to be getting her penetrated, or at least fondled. My second objective would be getting myself penetrated. My mother had convinced me that I was a giver, and though I had my doubts, I took on my new role with pride.
As we walked the plank to board the vessel, that pride made a quick exit and I started to get the feeling you get right after a bad batch of sushi: nausea, not unlike sea sickness, but this was more of a visceral disgust. This boat was a fucking mess. The feculent aroma coming from what I could only conjecture was the carpet was a smell I had experienced once before when waking up in a bar. The carpets had some horrible psychedelic design that appeared to be silk-screened on top in a fruitless attempt to cover the wide assortment of stains.
Some of the crew members were wearing blue shirts with the Carnival logo on them and some crew members were just wearing their own clothing with a name tag and a Carnival Cruise pin. Some had their shirts tucked in, some didn't. The crew looked completely disinterested, almost mentally off somehow, and there were framed photographs on the wall of more disinterested employees, all of which were crooked. Most of the crew members didn't even look eighteen. I began to have serious concerns about the kind of operation they were running.
Dumb Dumb grabbed my arm and said, "Let's just go to our room, we have a suite." I couldn't respond because I was still in a state of shock, overwhelmed by a disgust that can only be associated with deep disappointment or a keen sense of smell.
We went to our cabin, which meant hiking up four flights of stairs and down a hallway that was barely wide enough to fit one person-who was walking sideways. Where was this piece of shit boat when they were filming The Love Boat? We opened our door to find a pair of bunk beds and a porthole with glass so thick it was impossible to decipher whether the blue on the other side was the ocean or the sky.
"Is that our ocean view?" I asked Dumb Dumb as I tripped over the threshold. Apparently, we were moving.
"Oh, my gosh," she said. "This is pretty bad." She started to laugh. I did not.
"I can't stay here," I said. "I can't do it."
"It's not that bad," she said. "We can't leave. The ship has already left the dock."
"We'll have to swim to shore," I told her.
"Stop it! It'll be like a great big adventure!" she said.
I needed to find Captain Stubing right away-and Isaac and the doc. Where was that coked-up whore, Julie? Those were my peeps. I wanted to stay in their big, grand bedrooms with king-sized beds and a maid service.
After I regained my composure, I realized it was time to formulate a plan. Step one was to start drinking immediately. I was always more logical when I drank. Step two was to devise a means of escape.
We dropped our bags and I went to the bathroom to check in with myself. The bathroom was about four feet by four feet with a toilet that you had to step over to get into the shower. I stared intently at this absurd setup, trying to figure out where to put my legs while peeing as there were only about two inches between the front of the toilet and the bathroom wall. I opted to put my feet in the shower as I sat sideways on the toilet seat. I called Dumb Dumb in so she could witness what this cruise was really about.
"Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! How are we supposed to go to the bathroom?" she asked.