diann744

Warnings – Pretty much PG-13; exceedingly long; pre and post cruise narrative; no actual new information; cheesy goldfish; no real Somali Pirates to speak of; liver abuse (professional grade); senior moments; and generally speaking, more vices than virtues.

 

With our local winter temperatures plummeting to the mid 80s, the Evil Twin and I decided we needed to escape the sultry conditions and seek out a latitude that did not render our chardonnay tepid faster than we could drink it. Simply put, heat makes things expand and we couldn’t afford to expand any further. Greenland sounded good but seems to be perpetually out of our price range. Iceland made the list but we’ve tried before and you just can’t get there from here. A visit to Northern Europe a few years ago found them experiencing the hottest thermal conditions since biblical times.

 

Antarctica is melting and since I’m a Sun Goddess (it follows me everywhere – even indoors) I reluctantly promised Al Gore that I wouldn’t further endanger penguins or polar bears by visiting either of the poles. Clearly, further research was in order.

 

Global warming aside, I’m distressed to say that most of the actual land masses on the planet seem to clustered dangerously close to the Equator, for which I vehemently blame Rand-McNally, and so after some hot flash/panic attacks, we found ourselves in the unlikely position of looking toward the Caribbean.

 

Other than the high temperatures and borderline illegal humidity that normally keep us away from such destinations, HAL tends to use its larger vessels for these itineraries and we’ve never quite gotten into the rhythm of these “Enormodams.” Still, that wine’s not gonna drink itself (wine may not be our only vice, but we’ve found it wise not to practice two vices at once.)

 

So we buckled down, turned up the A/C and fanned ourselves for all we’re worth while perusing the catalogs. Eventually, there were two things that sealed the deal. One, we’d recently returned from a week in Cabo San Lucas and those summer clothes were still in their dry cleaning bags; and two, we found a cruise that stopped in Bonaire.

 

In 2009, we perspired our way through a Panama Canal Holiday voyage and met Solange, a seriously cool lady from Bonaire, and her family, who we stayed in touch with via email and Facebook after returning home. Now that we had a “friend” on the island, we thought it a perfect opportunity to get the inside scoop from a local and maybe even have the opportunity to take her to lunch and catch up with her in person. Assuming we could find someplace with air conditioning. Or at the very least -- shade.

 

This was to be a girls’ getaway and so the Sis’ Long Suffering Hubby (LSH) was going to be on his own for a bit while we hit the seas. This upped the difficulty level a tad as he’d had a bit of a health scare recently and we scrambled to make sure we’d have every possible means of communication available. But hey, how tough can that be in the 21st century? (In hindsight, I should put that on a t-shirt.)

 

Day 0 – Travel. The alarm went off before I’d actually fallen asleep and I was pretty sure I could see the inside of my own skull. I didn’t really have time to complete the packing I’d only started the night before (I generally start packing two hours before I leave for a trip but I have a hard rule that I must be unpacked within a month of returning home. I consider that a virtue) Oh well, within minutes of getting out of the shower and feeding the cats, the cab was here and the packing was as done as it was ever going to be. I'd have to knock over a Winn-Dixie in Florida for whatever I’d left behind.

 

I directed the cab to the Evil One’s lair and judging by her scowl, she seemed to agree with me that mornings are best left as things that happen to other people. “You look like I could use a drink,” I thought as we sped off to the Flyaway bus station for our trek to the horror that is LAX. We were dropped at a terminal that we both swore we’d never seen before but we still found a nice little bar where breakfast wine happened and moods were lifted. (Oh, don’t pretend to be appalled; what is brunch if not an excuse to have booze for breakfast?)

 

We’d booked the flights using miles so our itinerary was a little wonky. LAX – DFW – FLL on the way out and MIA – IAH – LAX coming home. In any case, not my lookout – Sis is the super-organized one; all I have to do is not shuck the leash and she’ll get me where I need to go. This works out well because my decision making skills closely resemble those of a squirrel trying to cross the street.

 

In Dallas, we stopped at a beautiful restaurant called Pappadeaux that doesn’t look at all like it belongs in an airport but we passed on the raw seafood because this is a family show and no one wants to read about how we would have responded to that. But the wine was very nice.

 

Once in Fort Lauderdale, we took a hotel shuttle to the Comfort Suites where we were cheerfully greeted by the cherubic desk clerk, Greg, who regaled us with the list of amenities the hotel had to offer. “… We have a fitness center down the hall; it’s awful. I hate exercise! So just skip that…” He also recommended a restaurant for a late dinner, Ernie’s BBQ, which was just a few streets over and served up some well-earned comfort food after a long travel day.

 

After dinner, we hit the CVS next door for some wine for the room as well as the two bottles of contraband we were permitted to bring on the ship the next day. (BTW, for the first time ever, my bag did not exceed the 50 pound weight limit. It was still heavier than the Twin’s but I’ll always be taller, so there!) Once at the hotel, I was able to see why I came in so light; I had neglected to pack several necessities so, “nice job, CVS.” Still, I was a bit relieved to see that no cats had stowed away. They like to burrow into the suitcase and I really didn’t have time to do a headcount before zipping up.

 

We slept through breakfast and walked down to find a lobby overflowing with people waiting for shuttles to the pier, many of whom seemed to be going with the “multiple shopping bags as luggage” option. Bold, I think. The shuttle was $6 per person and a cab $15. We decided the cab was a better deal and we could wait. So we skipped the rush and walked across A1A to the local Denny’s for some pre-cruise pancakes.

 

At some point the waiter, asking if we wanted two more sodas said, “Two more diets, ladies?” We assumed he was making a suggestion based on our weight and decided to skip dessert (and maybe walk to the pier.)

 

After another stop at CVS to counteract more bad packing, we were finally on our way to the ship. We got there about 1:00 after the lines had dwindled and were whisked through so fast, we weren’t ready. It really does make sense to give it an hour or so to avoid the lines. Still – note to self – xanax is essential for travel days and the first day on the ship. Especially if the local Denny’s doesn’t have a liquor license.

 

Day 1 – Embarkation, Fort Lauderdale. For the first time that I can remember, we got on board and could not immediately find our Happy Place. The Crow’s was closed. The Sea View was loud. The Ocean was dead. We finally, as a last resort, landed in the Lido Bar and ordered a bottle, the first of the day, which was late for us on a vacation day (or weekend, or holiday, or Friday, etc.).

 

Then another strange thing happened. We’d ordered the Caliterra chard which we’ve previously enjoyed. We both thought it was terrible but being professionals, vowed to, quite literally, suck it up. For the next bottle, once the Crow’s was opened, we ordered the Alice White, another go-to favorite for these quantity-over-quality gals. Absolutely awful. Our next choice, recommended by a helpful Inebriation Assistant at the Ocean, was a Rosemount which was twice the price. They all tasted like fruit salad served in tin foil. This was starting to become worrisome.

 

Now we’ve both heard it said that in the early stages of pregnancy, the sense of taste can be severely impacted. If there are any miraculous occurrences in the next several months, we’ll let you know (or just look to the North and follow the star).

 

Once in the room, we changed clothes and brought out the first of many novelty purses we had packed. The Evil One has the one that garners the most attention. A large green fish. Wherever she goes, heads turn and new friends are made. My purse this day was an accordion that many people comment on because it looks authentic enough that it just might be playable. Alas, no. It can barely hold the things I need it to but it starts conversations just the same and I don’t have to stuff a washcloth in the tail to keep it from flopping.

 

The muster drill passed muster and we went to take a look at our table in the upper dining room. We always request a table for just us since it’s fun to chat with folks around the ship but dinner is our time. Of the two of us, Sis is better about being sociable with strangers; I can usually find a corner in a round room. Our table wasn’t great – along an inner walkway which would have a lot of traffic. On a four or five day repositioning cruise, we would not have said a word. But with 10 days ahead of us, we very gently asked the MDR honcho if there was any possibility of changing. He told us that he would accommodate us if he could but there were 21 requests before us. We let him know it was no problem at all and we’d be fine where we were.

 

Then we paid a visit to the Queen’s Lounge where the wine guys were walking folks though the packages. We’d never paid much attention before but I was a newly crowned four star mariner and the discounts could no longer be discounted. Packages happened. It was a 10 day cruise so we purchased a 7 day and a 3 day for the dining room.

 

We also asked if the first wine tasting was a 4-star perk and were told it was and that Sis would be grandfathered in by virtue of the fact that she was lucky enough to be traveling with me. As if I hadn’t driven that point home to her before. We also bought the second wine tasting because, let’s face it, we don’t taste nearly enough on our own and we needed to keep our skills honed. It may be vacation but there’s always work to be done. And we always meet nice people at the wine tastings.

 

Our first night in the MDR was great, despite the table not being the most desirable, and afterwards we set out to check out the Piano Bar. If it’s not Jimmy Maddox, the Piano Bar rarely excites. But I’d checked the program and recognized this guy’s name. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember if I read that he was Elton John, Billy Joel and Thelonious Monk all rolled into one or that he needed his toes to play Chopsticks. He was much closer to the former than the latter. We’d found our Happy Place. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to last.

 

Michael Sara delivered a fantastic show that had everyone chair dancing and singing off-key. He might have even bumped Jimmy from the top spot but I guess we’ll never know. We got seats at the piano the first night and managed to sit at the banquettes the second. And never again got within 15 feet of the door.

 

Complaint alert!!!! He told us on night one that he doesn’t take breaks as a courtesy to his audience; I think this is a big mistake. There are a lot of things to do on a ship and if the entertainer doesn’t take a break, people don’t feel they can move on comfortably without offending. And if people don’t move on, new peeps can’t get in. Especially late dinner folks. Ten days and we couldn’t get near him after day two which was a shame. HAL should at least have featured him in the main showroom once or twice so everyone could enjoy this truly talented performer.

 

Day 2 – Half Moon Cay. We got up in time for breakfast on the Lido. (Note to HAL – why would you hide raisins in otherwise perfectly innocuous bread rolls? Why?)

 

We’d been to HMC once before. I have a very vivid memory of being on the large island tender and hearing the words, “Welcome to the Bahamas” and thinking I must have had a stroke as that was not something I ever expected to hear in my lifetime (I’m perspiration-averse, remember?)

 

It was no cooler this time, temperature-wise, but we made the trip over anyway, this time on the ship’s tenders as the Eurodam got priority for the larger ones. Like before, we hit three gift shops and a bar before returning to the somewhat climate-controlled mothership.

 

One thing sticks in my memory from this day. And when I say, “sticks in my memory,” I mean “is the most evil earworm since It’s a Small World.” It surfaced at the otherwise lovely outdoor bar overlooking the beach. They had a song on what seemed to a continuous loop that consisted entirely of a heavy bass and vocal “ooh oohs” interrupted every 15 seconds with a stern voice saying, “Barbra Streisand.” I was sure their PA system was malfunctioning but Sis looked it up when we got home. It’s an actual song by a band called Duck Sauce. If you click on the link, we are not responsible for any aural rehabilitation that might be required.

 

We got back to the ship and cleaned up in time to have a glass of wine at the Ocean Bar in preparation for wine tasting at 2:00. Yes, even professionals need to do the warm-up.

 

Once we felt sufficiently prepared to taste in a formal setting without looking like amateurs, we went to the MDR to check out our new table. We hadn’t been able to connect to any digital mailboxes while on shore but received a note in our analog one (outside the door) that the Maître D had managed to find us new digs.

 

Rewind – all two of you who have followed our less than notorious adventures on the high seas might remember a tidbit from our Alaska cruise last May. We spent four nights on the Amsterdam from San Diego to Vancouver and then seven on the Statendam from Vancouver to Anchorage. Adi was the junior waiter on the first leg of the trip. He was a blast. Slightly campy, seriously dramatic; we adored him.

 

We left his ship and two days later ran into him in Ketchikan. Massive hugs ensued. Sis, being older than me and easily confused, told him we were looking forward to seeing him that night in the dining room. I had to remind her we’d left his ship. It became a long-running joke, even once we were home – “If I run into Adi, don’t let me tell him I’ll see him tonight”.

 

A week later, after leaving our second ship of the voyage, we ran into him again in Anchorage. It was starting to get creepy, albeit in a very welcome way.

 

Fast forward -- The dining room was closed of course, and as we meandered around the empty room, looking at table numbers that follow no system I’ve ever heard of (maybe it’s that new Common Core math) – 77, 138, 14… – the lone crew member, re-stocking a waiter’s station, looked up and asked if he could help us. I think they heard the screams back on land. Adi! He immediately called us by name and if hugs could kill – scratch that – if hugs could heal, the world would be a better place today.

 

Adi was now serving dinner each night but other that that was working in the office, which we hope is a promotion but it meant we wouldn’t get to see him too much. We would have instantly asked to be moved to his section, but we’d already requested one seating change and we’re just never gonna be that difficult. Still, it was wonderful to see him and see him doing well.

 

Wine tasting was fun and we passed the course. Cellarmaster Matt hails from South Africa and acquired his love of wine early in life and worked his way through all manner of wine production before joining the ship. We met some very nice people and all things considered, the tasting was enough of a success that we decided to continue tasting at the Crow’s Nest.

 

Barman Gil immediately asked our names – Christianne and Diann and then introduced himself as Giliann. His shotguns became Roneliann and Ronaldoann and our fellow bar patrons were re-christened Carliann, Henryann, Earla-ann, pseudonyms that lasted the length of the cruise. Unfortunate passengers who arrived after our introductions never likely knew why their names were being twisted so.

 

From the start, Gil was funny, continually threatening to call security on one or both of us, Ronaldo quiet and efficient and Ronel quiet and seemingly a bit shy. All exhibited flawless dance moves during Happy Hour and kept the vibe in the Crow’s light and fun.

 

For once, trivia was not a big part of our trip. It tended to occur at the far end of the room, away from our preferred seats at the bar and we often couldn’t hear. Gil did such a good job introducing people to each other that it didn’t matter a bit; we were too busy chatting and making new friends to care about wrestling strangers for an enamel pin.

 

Eventually, we went back to the room to shower and get ready for the first formal night. Our new table was at the window but it was the very last one at the back of the dining room so we swapped seats each night as only one of us had any kind of view of the goings-on. Still, we are so impressed that they accommodated the change request at all. Our new servers knew our names before we sat down for the first time, hopefully not because we’d been tagged as difficult for requesting a change. We’d actually requested it before ever having dined at the first table so I hope they know it wasn’t a complaint about the staff, or even a complaint at all.

 

After dinner, I hit the Casino for my fix (boo, hiss – smokers!) and we caught most of the BB King show which was wonderful before hitting the Piano Bar for what we didn’t realize would be the last time, where Michael playfully chided us for being late. From that day forward I carried a folded piece of paper in my bag so that if it happened again, I could whip it out and declare that we had a note excusing our tardiness. Unfortunately, I never got to use it.

 

Day 3 – Grand Turk . We had time to do a few errands before leaving the ship so we headed to the Shorex Desk. Our friend in Bonaire had suggested that we get a morning tour of the North of the island, then she would meet us for lunch and take us on a private tour of the South side. We tried to sign up but the tour was booked. We asked to be waitlisted and hoped for the best.

 

By then, we were too late for breakfast but rolled off the ship when they said to and went in search of shade and wifi. Margaritaville promised both and we could clearly see the mob of people happily thumbing away on their various electronic devices. Wow, was it hot. I’m still ashamed of what I would have done to a Klondike Bar at that moment.

 

We ordered some wine and set about pulling out (no joke) two grandma cell phones, one iPhone, two Kindle Fires and an iPad in an attempt to make a connection with the outside world. Not to be.

 

All around us, people were happily logging onto Facebook, reading emails, sending selfies, checking news, watching bad Internet porn and we were sipping warm wine surrounded by $2,000 worth of electronic paperweights. Not a clue why. Maybe we’d signed up for Verizon’s Luddite Plan by mistake.

 

I was moderately OK with it, even though it had been days since I’d seen a new picture of The Cumberbatch, but the Evil Twin was freaking out big time. Understandable as she had the LSH at home to worry about. Still, it’s been said that civilization is 24 hours and two meals away from barbarism; I think it’s more like 24 hours with no wifi.

 

We hadn’t taken the time to look up what currencies were accepted at each of our destinations before leaving home but Sis had stuffed about 50 euro notes into her travel bag before leaving home. When the bill came, they had the total in dollars, pounds and euros so we were able to offload those and it pretty much felt like the warm wine was free. And warm wine really should be free, don’t you think?

 

Eventually, we got up (you know it’s hot when the chair gets up when you do) and moved out into the sun where we were actually able to at least make a couple of calls and confirm that everything was copacetic at home before leaving the island.

 

Once back on the ship, we had a drink and a nice chat with a new friend in the Ocean before heading to Happy Hour in the Crow’s. We were looking forward to the 5:00 appetizers as breakfast and lunch consisted of goldfish (the snack that smiles back!) but it was mostly things we couldn’t eat so we snagged a cheese plate from the Lido before heading to the room to clean up and re-group.

 

Back on the island, we had a shared senior moment when trying to recall the name of a movie. It was a beautiful love story between an 18 year old boy and an 80 year old woman who had so much to teach each other. Maybe early 70s. Nothing could bring it to mind. I swear, growing old is like being penalized for a crime you haven't committed. We vowed to ask the next person we chatted with who was over 50 but of course, the chances of us remembering to do that were slim.

 

We had a quick drink at the Sports Bar pre-dinner before setting off to join our friends in the MDR. Edgar, our wine stewart/stuart/steward recommended the Dreaming Tree chard which was the closest we came to finding a wine that had actually been swirled around an oak barrel and we knew things were looking up and the Grape Depression was over. (Has anyone ever had a wine steward name Stuart? That would be so classic.)

 

A couple of side notes – On some trips, the hot hors-d'oeuvres were reserved for formal night but this time were a nightly occurrence. We’d read on the boards that some ships were doing away with the Code Orange immediately after embarkation; the Noordam was one of those, which was nice. Every time we returned to the ship after a hot day ashore, we were greeted by cold towels, water and lemonade. They also didn’t seem to be chasing anyone around with the fire hose of hand sanitizer which I was terribly grateful for; it’s always difficult when the walkway is at a steep angle and they douse your hands in disinfectant and then expect you to clamber up the side of the ship, keycard in hand, without ending up ass over teakettle at the bottom of the ramp. Not that that ever happened. Really. YouTube lies.

 

Dinner was a lot of fun although I have to say, the food throughout the trip was fine but not in any way exceptional. Not a complaint, we’re always more interested in the service and the overall vibe coming off the crew members and that could not be faulted. The food itself was beautifully presented and we certainly never went hungry, but of the 10 days, I think we each had two meals we considered to be particularly good.

 

After dinner, we tried and failed to get near the Piano Bar. Crow’s was again DOA. Luckily, the BB King show was available and as always, great.

 

Day 4 – Samana, Dominican Republic. We woke up to pink tickets outside our door. Unfortunately they were for the afternoon tour in Bonaire, which we couldn’t do so we had to cancel. Oh well.

 

I was disappointed to step out onto the balcony to find that the heat index was somewhere between OMG and WT*. On the positive side of things, we didn’t get close to the island until later in the day so we had time for burgers at the Dive In before making our way to the tenders. It was a longish ride and I was surprised to hear people complaining about that. I can’t count the number of times we’ve paid good money for a half hour boat ride and couldn’t really see the problem. Patience, folks. Although, now that I think about it, if life is short why is patience a virtue? In any case, if you want something to gripe about, how about the fact that fast food chains don’t serve breakfast after 10:00 am? That’s an issue I’ll carry a sign for.

 

DR was a first for us. Immediately off the ship we saw that motorcycles were a preferred mode of transport and helmets were nowhere to be seen. Within minutes we saw two, three, four people on one motorcycle before finally seeing one with three peeps – driver, one behind, a television sized box, and another guy at the rear. And I feel overloaded if I have a passenger in my Toyota Echo.

 

We started off walking with no idea where we were going but we were following the crowd. We were confronted by several locals who wanted to shine my ankle boots, which I thought was an odd choice in a beachfront town and so I politely passed. There were quite a lot of stray (or as Her Evilness corrects me, undocumented) dogs roaming around and hoping for scraps from the tourists lining the streets.

 

Another interesting thing was the rain gutters dug along the streets. Basically, every time you stepped off a curb, you had to be careful to step out a good 10 inches to avoid the foot deep trench that I’m sure has claimed many a tourist’s ankle. We were sober and so it was relatively easy to do but after dodging traffic to get to the other side of the road, I vowed to pay particular attention on the way home.

 

We wandered a bit and finally came upon the Café du Paris which had a completely authentic (sic) replica of the Eiffel Tower out front and a six person bar that looked welcoming enough. Much like in Paris, the staff spoke no English but knew the words for “wine” and “wifi” which were all we needed to make us happy. At this point we knew air conditioning was out of the question. Still, when I said I’d like to see 130 someday, I meant my weight.

 

Once again, our numerous electronic devices seemed to be conspiring against us and while surrounded by people happily logging onto the web, we were encumbered with 30 pounds of paperweights. Another friendly local was insistent that my boots were in need of a shine. Again, there was a language barrier which he overcame by pantomiming the act, which would have been fine but I was wearing a long skirt and in order to act out his intentions, it was necessary that he get on the floor and practically crawl under said skirt to uncover the offending dusty boots. I too can play charades and I hope he understood me when I acted out, “I really have no intention of paying to have my $20 plastic Payless shoes shined but thank you very much for the offer and if you want to continue flapping my skirt up and down to create a breeze, that would be lovely and you can pretty much name your price.”

 

Eventually, we decided to get back to the A/C and set about retracing our steps to the tender spot. The “highway” we had crossed was a divided one; maybe three lanes on each side which our logical minds told us meant three lanes “each direction.” Once we cleared the trough without incident and started looking left and right, it became apparent that traffic was actually moving in each direction, on each side of the divider. This upped the difficulty level quite a bit, as did the several glasses of wine and electrolyte loss. Still, I thought we were doing OK when a frenzied local came running up, grabbed our elbows and insisted on getting these two old ladies across the street safely. Not at all unwelcome, but a bit of a bruise to the ego.

 

Once safely on the other side of the road, we realized how far we’d actually walked and took the offer of a motorcycle taxi back to the tender area. A buck a piece plus tip was well worth the price.

 

Back on the ship, we cleaned up and hit the Crow’s for Happy Hour. Ronaldo asked if we’d like peanuts and then instantly remembered that we preferred goldfish and ran to get us some. We didn’t see him for an hour. We’re pretty sure he took a tender to the Costco on the island.

 

We’d forgotten all about the movie title that was eluding us until we were through with dinner and back in the room for the night. Now it was driving us crazy again. What made it so bad was that we’d both seen it numerous times and loved it. We knew it starred Ruth Gordon and Bud Cort. I’d recently re-watched it on Netflix and the Evil Twin was actually working for the production company at the time the movie was made and was tasked with taking Bud Cort to lunch, which she did, at his request, by picking up sandwiches that were eaten in Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. We vowed to hit the library in the morning and look it up before it drove us completely crazy.

 

Day 5 – Sea Day. We slept past 11:00 and then wandered the ship now that the shops were finally open. We didn’t actually find anything to buy, other than a few t-shirts as souvenirs but at least it was something to do. Eventually we wandered down to the excursions desk where we inquired about getting to the airport on the way home. We knew we’d be kicked off the ship before 9:00 am and had a 4:45 pm flight from Miami so we looked at the transfers available.

 

Normally, I don’t pay much attention to these kinds of details, being more than happy to leave the decisions to Her Evilness. But my ears pricked up when I heard the words, “Everglades” and “crocodiles.” The crocodiles were fine and I’d be happy to pet one in a temperature-controlled environment but something about the two words in combo had me wondering what my insurance policy would cover in case of heatstroke. Because, let’s face it, “I love humidity,” said no one ever.

 

Still, Sis was determined and signed us up. I vowed to spend the next several days reminding her that we would need to board an airplane – with other people – later that day.

 

We wandered about a bit more and ended up at the Terrace for some tacos and then bought a 3-bottle Navigator package for the room before watching one of the most beautiful sunsets we’d ever seen from the balcony.

 

Our after dinner preference is usually the Piano Bar (only when we’re lucky enough to get a great piano guy) or the Crow’s Nest. As I mentioned, on this trip, neither of those were working – one because it was too popular and one because it was DOA. Nightclubs are definitely not our thing and so even though Happy Hour is usually something we set alarms for, the 10:00 to 11:00 rotation in the Northern Lights had not yet called to us. But, since Sis is not a big gambler and I was losing my shirt, we decided to swing by and see what they had to offer.

 

It turned out that the bar was not inside the noisy disco at all but rather in a smaller room on the outskirts and it had two things going for it. One, the barstools were not designed for Dutch people so we could actually get into them without needing a boost from a crew member and two, the place was virtually deserted so we could chat with the bartender and generally wind down before heading off to bed.

 

We may have found it late in the trip but it was to become a nice venue to end the rest of our nights on board.

 

Day 6 – Bonaire. This was the port we’d been waiting for. In the days before we started out, we texted and emailed back and forth with Solange and she insisted she would cook us lunch at her home. As she said, “the best food on the island comes from my kitchen and the best views of Bonaire are from my deck.” We didn’t want to put her out but she is not a woman to cross! We were still waitlisted for the morning tour but nothing had come through. We decided to be persistent and hung out on the pier and, luckily, they had a couple of no-shows and we grabbed the last two seats. We saw iguanas, parrots, donkeys, goats and, of course, the famous flamingos.

 

The pink lake was one of the most beautiful things we’d ever seen and I thought I might have to physically restrain the Evil One from running off the bus to gather up as much of those salt hills as she could carry in her purse.

 

Once back at the pier, we had an hour before meeting Solange and so we ducked into a café for a beer and wifi. At this point it was clear that we were simply not destined to connect. We’d have been better off with a couple of tin cans and string (and that’s the back of the T-shirt.)

 

We wandered until we found the pier-side booth for the Bonaire Animal Shelter where we were meeting our friend and found her waiting for us. (it’s a really terrific cause BTW -- http://www.animalshelterbonaire.com/)

 

From there she whisked us off to what must be the most gorgeous home on the island. As it turned out, our morning tour actually covered most of the highlights and so we were able to spend the time catching up and laughing. We enjoyed a marvelous afternoon with, as promised, the best food and the best views on the island. I can confidently say that there are no longer quotation marks around the word friend.

 

We returned to the ship in time for Happy Hour and Gil solved the mystery of why the Crow’s was so dead in the evenings. Apparently, about 25 rooms were added to the Observation Deck on one of the last re-fits and so the Crow’s was basically taken off of the roster of nighttime destinations. Seems like a bad decision to me but I imagine Seattle did the math.

 

Day 7 – Curacao. Satan called, he wants his weather back. This was probably the most touristy and well-known of the stops we’d be making and the one with the most obvious Dutch influence. And we had a mission – Solange’s brother owns Don’s Ice Cream, right off the cruise port in the Riffort. We were bound and determined to at least accomplish that much.

 

But not right away. I was melting and detoured the Twin to a nice place across the road called the Gouverneur where we once again tried to gain Internet access and then basically decided to unplug, buy a mule and cart, invest in an abacus and acclimate ourselves to the fact that we don’t actually know Benedict Cumberbatch and really have no right to see new pictures of him every day. (It’s an obsession but a harmless one; and in any case I prefer a pleasant vice to an annoying virtue any day.) It will be hard but I’m sure there are support groups.

 

I know Her Evilness desperately wanted to walk the pedestrian bridge to the other side of the river but all I could see was a great expanse of NO SHADE. I’m sorry to say (no, really sorry, for me!) that I now owe her one. (Soon to be two)

 

After two bottles of fortification, we set off to find Don’s Ice Cream. This was a mission we had sworn to uphold. It wasn’t terribly far but when we got here, we found that Don wasn’t in attendance. Bummer. Still, we had some wonderful ice cream and left him a note letting him know that his sister’s crazy American friends had dropped by.

 

We were sitting outside the shop enjoying our ice cream when something brushed up against the Evil One’s leg, causing her to jerk alarmingly. She looked down and exclaimed, “Oh my God, I kicked a penguin!” I was pretty sure she’d now be on Al Gore’s watch list as well but upon further investigation, it proved to be a pigeon and it seemed no worse for wear.

 

Back on the ship we joined our friends in the Crow’s for Happy Hour before eventually dressing for dinner and hitting the Northern Lights for Happy Hour Mach II. Pretty happy, all things considered and we toddled off to bed when our Check Liver lights came on.

 

Day 8 – Aruba. We’d been before and taken a tour but this time were just going to go off on our own for a bit. We found a cute trolley at the pier and jumped on with no idea what it cost or whether it was an organized tour or local transportation. It didn’t really matter; we just wanted the thing to start moving so we’d have a breeze.

 

Turns out it was a free hop-on, hop-off kind of thing and we took it a few stops to the local shopping street. We wandered a bit and eventually ended up a cute little restaurant called De Suikertuin which I think means Sugar Garden. It has an adorable patio out back which seems to be a crowd pleaser with the local exotic bird population (no penguins, alas) and a couple of cozy inside rooms. We opted for inside and the hostess seemingly took one look at us and set the A/C to stun.

 

At every port so far, we had phone service but no internet. This time it was the opposite and so we drank our wine and checked emails and reacquainted ourselves with The Cumberbatch. (I know the A/C is cranking but is it getting warm in here?)

 

This would have been a perfect time to look up the movie title that was eluding us with such determination but I think I read once that alcohol causes forgetfulness. I don’t remember for sure.

 

The walk back to the pier was a bit difficult as, one; we had no idea where we were going and; two, we always seemed to be on the sunny side of the street. We were very happy about those iced towels when we finally made it.

 

There was a ship at the pier that we were curious about. Much bigger than a yacht but smaller than a cruise ship, it seemed to scream, “I have a story.” Sis went into the Visitor’s Center while I stayed outside to have a cigarette (boo, hiss, smokers!) and I got a closer look. The name on the side was Freewinds, which sounded familiar but it wasn’t until I saw another designation – Sea Organization – that I realized it was the Scientology ship. I had read that it was a frequent visitor to those islands but it still seemed strange to see it up close, as if Tom Cruise was going to start jumping up and down on a couch right there at the pier.

 

Back on board, we made it to the Terrace for tacos. While we were looking for a place to sit, Rodolfo from the Piano Bar spied us and offered us wine. We didn’t want to hurt his feelings so we said yes. We wandered into the inside part of the Lido and he vowed to find us, which he did, setting up a bucket for our bottle.

 

I cannot count the number of heads that turned to stare as people passed by our table. Apparently wine in the Lido is an unusual occurrence? We kept expecting someone to actually fall down in indignation or shock. In any case, we enjoyed it but it did make us late for Happy Hour in the Crow’s. We actually had to sit at a table until folks peeled away from the bar. And I thought Gil loved us enough to save our seats!

 

Day 9 – Sea Day. I’d spent days trying to convince Her Evilness that an airboat tour through the swamps sounded like as much fun as drinking a glass of hot sand and she finally relented. The other two options for our long wait between disembarkation and our flight were a trip to the mall and a bus/boat tour of FLL. I like shopping almost as much as I like heat so we opted for the second one. Now I owed her a crocodile. Small price to pay, in my opinion.

 

The second wine tasting was held in the Pinnacle and was a lot of fun, if not terribly interactive. It looked like they’d planned for 40 peeps and only about 15 attended. Since they’d poured out the full set of samples, Sis and I enthusiastically volunteered for clean-up duty but they turned us down.

 

The rest of the day went like this -- Happy Hour I, dressing for formal night, dinner, Happy Hour II, and bed. And of course, the reemergence of the puzzle that had plagued us since the start of the trip – what on earth is that movie called? We knew it was directed by Hal Ashby and the score was by Cat Stevens. We were trading dialogue; hell, we could have acted it out but the title was still stubbornly refusing to reveal itself.

 

Day 10 – Sea Day but We’re Kicking You Off Tomorrow. Last day on board and we meant to make the most of it. We left the room, too late for breakfast, again, but managed to grab some tacos at the Terrace. The rest of the day was spent between Crow’s, Ocean, Casino, trying desperately to find something to buy in the shops (to no avail) Sea View (where I could grab a smoke – boo, hiss, smokers) and running back the room to halfheartedly begin packing. Are they really kicking us off?

 

The fish purse made a return as did my (working) clock purse. We were amused to see folks wandering in to the Crow’s and asking, “Is this the Ocean Bar?” and “What floor is the library on?” Seriously? After 10 days?

 

Happy Hour happened and we passed along extra thank yous to our hardworking bar staff. Interesting note – Ronel, the shy one, completely opened up with a series of borderline risqué jokes that had the bar in hysterics. Not so much because they were that funny, but because they weren’t expected from him. It was a welcome and wonderful surprise for our last night on board.

 

After leaving gifts for stewards Iwan and Achmad, we headed out for our last night in the MDR. Yahya, Hunan and Edgar were front and center, as always, and we showed our appreciation and had a marvelous last night in the MDR.

 

What made it even better, as we were walking out, we passed Adi, who had a full platter of plates, etc. on his shoulder; he immediately put it down on the nearest flat surface and hugged us for all he was worth. A beautiful end to a terrific cruise.

 

Day 11 – Travel. But it wasn’t over yet. By 8:15 we were off the ship and waiting in the long lines for customs and immigration. Again, why is patience a virtue? Why can’t “hurry the hell up” be a virtue? Eventually we cleared the lines and boarded a bus for an hour and a half tour of Fort Lauderdale that we’ve already done but it was either this or crocodiles and heat. After that portion of the tour we were loaded onto a somewhat shabby paddle wheeler for a boat ride around the canals and views of the super-yachts. Moments before the boat was to sail, the skies opened up and even though the crew scrambled to pull down the opaque plastic windows, the rest of the tour was spent up to our ankles in very cold water with views of absolutely nothing at all.

 

Then we were back on the bus to return to the ship to drop off the peeps who were continuing on for another 10 days before hitting the airports for drop off. The tour guide realized that we were the only two on his bus who needed to go to Miami rather than FLL so he kicked us off the bus and threw us on another one. Our new tour guide, who had a voice that could melt steel, talked throughout the five different stops at all the FLL terminals before announcing she was getting off and the driver would take the remaining six peeps to MIA.

 

Apparently, the driver realized that with his boss off the bus, he didn’t need to do any of that “stop at every terminal” nonsense so we were unceremoniously dumped at the far end of one of the largest airports in the world and needed to hoof it to the next county to find our gate. But eventually, we had checked in, braved security and sat down for our first adult beverage of the day. And for the first time, we had wifi AND remembered to look up the movie that had so preyed on our minds.

 

All in all, a pretty successful trip. We’d exercised our vices and loved every minute of it (well, only a couple of them are actually vices, the rest can be considered job skills.) And as Maude said to Harold, “vice, virtue -- it's best not to be too moral. You cheat yourself out of too much life.” Well, no one’s ever called us cheaters!

Welcome aboard, Marco's Tia. Glad to have you. You may need to start practicing though!

 

Dizzy -- yeah, the diaper thing is a lot funnier now than it was when it was a serious consideration. Thankfully, the wind died down or I just stopped caring about going all Marilyn on the unsuspecting populace. :p

 

Oldbluff -- The Statendam was showing her age a bit on this cruise and we learned onboard that she's been sold to P&O so probably won't be getting any facelifts while still a Dam ship. Still, she's a perfect size and the service can't be beat. And you'll love your Neptune on the Westerdam!

POA1,

 

You are my new best friend!

Thank you all for the enthusiastic responses. And a special thanks to POA1 for my new desktop wallpaper. Two@Sea, you don’t want me lifting your spirits because then you wouldn’t get any.

 

Here’s a pic of our “calling cards” made for those occasions when people want to trade emails and the like (info on the back). We designed them to look like HAL Beverage Cards while being different enough that Seattle wouldn’t be taking us to court.

 

 

The much talked about Triple Crown hats, which we’re retiring since they are clearly cursed. Next year’s hats will ensure a winner.

 

 

Sis snapped a pic of what she termed “the worst towel animal evah.” It was actually a towel we’d left n the bed and we found it folded but not in any way impressively.

 

 

And an actual, rare photo of the two of us, in our natural habitat. As always, the Evil One is more photogenic while I look like I’m about to blow a raspberry (photo credit Joe G., Passenger Act Gang Member)

 

 

 

And, RuthC, I’m not sure what Her Evilness is talking about. I was on the Dam ships for 11 days and never once did I spy a pillow chocolate. She’s either delusional or a Dam thief!

Disclaimers: Mostly PG-13, liver abuse, cheesy goldfish, sarcasm, hyperbole, self-deprecation and probably longer than all the Twilight movies put together. The Somali Pirates are now Oscar Winners so we can’t afford them anymore.

 

As always, these reviews are not so much to educate or inform, but rather to set the details of our foolhardy escapades in our own minds. After all, it’s important to learn from your mistakes if you want to repeat them perfectly at a future date. If we can make a couple of people laugh until tears run down their legs or snort coffee through their noses, we consider that a bonus. Here goes.

 

After being diagnosed with debilitating cases of Vacation Deficit Disorder, the Evil Twin and I decided to seek treatment on the high seas. San Diego to Anchorage on a Dam ship looked like just what the doctor ordered but the Passenger Act of 1886, enacted to protect the burgeoning American Cruise Ship Industry, conspired to up the difficulty level significantly. So, what should have been an easy itinerary turned into something that involved NASA-level planning and a whole file folder of color coded docs and confirmations. Luckily, Her Evilness has a label maker and isn’t afraid to use it.

 

The plan was to catch the train to San Diego, board the Amsterdam for four nights of Vacation Replacement Therapy, spend one night in Vancouver, hop the Statendam for a week and then spend a night in Anchorage on our own before flying home to beautiful downtown North Hollywood, our health restored. Lord knows, we’re both ready for some blessings that aren’t in disguise.

 

All those connections sounded exhausting and I was hoping to get into better shape and lose 10 pounds before the big day. I only have 13 to go. Apparently, it’s only June and I’m already eating at a Thanksgiving level. Oh well, on the plus side (see what I did there?) fat people are harder to kidnap.

 

Day 1, Tuesday – Travel Day. Sis and her Long Suffering Hubby (LSH) picked me up and drove us to the Van Nuys train station where the Twin’s bag came in under weight (as it always does) and thankfully the scale monitor turned away just as my bag sent it tipping from 49 to 53. But I’m STILL taller.

 

We always opt for First Class on the train because it’s only about $10 extra. Generally, we’re in a lower category cabin on the ship so this way we can pretend we’re the princesses we surely would be if the Gods were just -- on the first leg of the trip at least. This time, we’d received paid upgrade offers and would be sailing in a Neptune Suite for the first outing and a Vista on the second. This meant we didn’t need to re-pack the tiaras in San Diego but could keep them on for the duration which was great because I hate how that messes up my hair.

 

We settled in on the train, hooked up to the free wifi and enjoyed three bottles of chard to start the trip. Half bottles naturally, it was still morning after all.

 

Once on the ship, we checked in to our beautiful suite and immediately began marking our territory and spreading out. We lightened our purses of all the electronics we wouldn’t be needing, grabbed $20 each in case the casino beckoned and that obligatory $5 in case one of us knocked over a glass and needed to tip on the spot. (We try not to of course; spilling a full glass of wine is the adult equivalent of letting go of a balloon.)

 

Once unpacked, we visited the Crows for Trivia and met bartender Jeremie who had recently joined the ship. He instantly grokked our preference for goldfish over peanuts and the first of many wine cards was activated and exercised. (That was the only exercise we planned to be a part of on this trip; we’re both in the Fitness Protection Program.)

 

Trivia was, as usual, cutthroat and bloodthirsty which is why Sis and I play for ourselves. What people won’t do for a Holland America golf towel! Although it did give us a chance to drop a few Douglas Adams references, as in “there’s a frood who really knows where his towel is.”

 

We also checked in to the Ocean and Sports Bars just to verify that the wine cards worked in all zip codes and ensure that no hard working beverage staffers felt overlooked.

 

Eventually it was time to dress for dinner which is infinitely easier in such spacious accommodations. We managed it with a minimum of hair pulling and hip-bruising and then set off for our late seating in the MDR.

 

Backstory: The Amsterdam has always been a favorite, since that day 10 years ago when we boarded her for a 17-night sail from Valparaiso to Rio and first fell in love with cruising. Since then, the Rotterdam and Statendam may have pushed her out of the top spot but she’ll always be our first Dam Ship. Still, last May, we set out on a five night coastal where we hoped to convert a couple of family members to the ranks of cruise fandom. For reasons still unknown to us, the MDR experience was a train wreck from start to finish. Somewhat reminiscent of a Chuck E. Cheese’s that had lost its liquor license.

 

Suffice it to say we made no converts on that cruise. We were disappointed and dearly hoped the service levels in the A’Dam dining room would return to those we’ve come to expect before we sailed her again.

 

They didn’t. They surpassed the best we’ve ever experienced. Even on the cruises where we’ve considered the MDR service to be a 10 out of 10, the first night of any leg of the journey usually sees some delays, which is to be expected and never a problem. On most nights, I might have to wait a few minutes for a double espresso when most people order plain coffee. That has never bothered me, and never will.

 

On this sailing, Waiters Mukliss and Adi, along with Wine Steward Joey (who didn’t need to be spell-checked, as most stuarts/stewarts do) were pulling out our seats for us before we’d left our cabin. By day two, Adi’s left hand cleared my plate as his right hand set down my espresso.

 

We love the dining room experience and very much enjoy a leisurely two hour dinner. Which we did most nights on this trip. But it would also have been easy to get in and out in under an hour if you had some place to be. We were never rushed but we never waited a second for anything. And through it all, they took the time to laugh and joke with us, telling us a little bit about themselves and asking about our day. Truly exceptional service. Although Chuck E. Cheese’s does have a bouncy castle. Just sayin’.

 

After dinner, we stuck our heads into the main show which was Glenn Hirsch, a comedian (or so the daily program read) who still thinks it’s funny to pull out every old school stereotype of fat, aging, gluttonous cruisers who go to sleep at 6:00 but set alarms for the midnight buffet and don’t even realize the ship makes port stops. I found myself biting my tongue and rolling my eyes hard enough to affect the earth’s rotation.

 

We ducked out and went to visit Derek in the Piano Lounge (not Piano Bar as there were no seats at the piano.) He was doing an Abba retrospective and we managed to get seats at the banquettes after a short wait. He was very good but the place was packed and we decided to hit the Crows Nest for Happy Hour and enjoyed chatting with some new friends who we learned were also transferring to the Statendam in Vancouver (the Passenger Act Gang). The wine cards continued to perform up to expectations but we planned to keep putting them through their paces just in case they tried to slack off.

 

Eventually it was time for bed and I was already planning a nap for tomorrow. All in all, a marvelous first day.

 

Day 2, Wednesday – Sea Day. We woke up when the sun streaming in around the carefully binder-clipped curtains threatened to burn our retinas away through tightly clenched eyelids. Note to HAL – BALCKOUT DRAPES.

 

The nicest part of an otherwise unpleasantly early morning was the fact that Sis went down the hallway to the Neptune Lounge and returned with coffee and rolls so we didn’t have to brave the Lido before rehydrating. How could we be so thirsty when we drank so much the night before?

 

Sis also confirmed something she had noted on the last vacation we shared a room – I suffer from what she’s termed Nighttime Tourettes. Apparently, while fast asleep, I punctuate the silence with short bursts of profanity. That or I’m channeling Redd Foxx. Gotta have that checked out. Or soundproof my apartment. Seriously, %!@?!"?.

 

We wandered the ship a bit, checking out the shops only to confirm what we’ve known since our second cruise – we’ve already purchased everything we wanted to and no new selections have been added. Even though this was our first Alaska cruise, we bought all the Alaska tchotchkes on a coastal sailing years ago.

 

Around noon, we decided some food was in order and so we headed to the Lido Deck to try the new Dive In. New for us, anyway. We’ve always preferred the Terrace Grill to the indoor Lido offerings at lunchtime and this was a first for us. Upscale burgers with caramelized onions, Gouda cheese and chop chop salad. The food was excellent but it was a bit disorganized. The wait was easily 30 minutes which is a bit much for what I consider “fast food” but they did hand out beepers so you could at least have a seat and enjoy the first adult beverage of the morning (DAY, I mean day.)

 

At 1:00 we headed to the Crow’s Nest for the blood sport known as Trivia. Wandered the ship a bit more and ended up at the Ocean for Happy Hour at 4:00. Happy happened.

 

Tonight was the first formal night, even though the print-‘em-yourself documents -- which really don’t cause one to break out in a doc dance -- stated four smart casual nights. We’ve learned that there’s always a formal night when catching the tail end of a longer cruise. We gave ourselves enough time to primp and pamper and enjoyed a bottle of our “toted-aboard” Eberle chard in the room while we did so. (It was much nicer when the onboard stash of wine could be packed in checked luggage rather than wearing a groove in your shoulder and then having to be brought out and registered prior to boarding like some kind of contraband.)

 

No white chair covers or silver candle holders in the MDR, nor was there any live music playing us in. Still, Muklis, Adi and Joey were front and center, welcomed us with open arms and delivered a wonderful experience.

 

I love trying new foods on a cruise because it’s really the only time I can do it without spending a lot of money on something I’m not sure I’ll like. At home, what I call cooking is mostly melting cheese on stuff. I once tried making a full meal from scratch and ended up summoning a demon. Now, I’m not likely to attempt anything too fancy without a Haz Mat Team on speed dial. On a cruise, I can be a bit adventurous. Sis can’t even face a green M&M. I think raisin cookies that look like chocolate chip cookies are the reason she has trust issues.

 

The night before, I had an appetizer that included a lone mussel, which is something I was sure I’d hate but was actually quite nice and no epi-pen was needed. Tonight I tried lobster bisque but I’m afraid I can’t give an accurate review of my reaction because this is a family show. It wasn’t even night time and my affliction was threatening to rise to the surface. I’ve tried and tried but giant sea spiders are definitely not my thing, even when pureed with sherry.

 

We hit the Ocean and Crows after dinner and went to bed when Jeremie told us to.

 

Day 3, Thursday – Sea Day. We woke up slowly and eventually made our way to the Dive In/Terrace for late breakfast tacos before visiting the Crows for Trivia.

 

Trivia comforts us in two ways. One, we know we’ll never be asked to assume any kind of high-powered office because we’re just not bright enough; and Two, if we were, we’d never lead the planet into war because we just don’t have the stomach for it. Unless the payout is something much better than a golf towel.

 

I’d like to say we saw whales but we actually saw some spurts of water that were most likely made by whales but ones that were too shy to actually show themselves above the water line. I get it. I’m not exactly happy with my “summer body” either.

 

We then visited the Inebriation Assistants in the Casino Bar before going back to the room to sober up before Happy Hour.

 

There are gaps in our notes but it most likely went something like this: more Trivia, Happy Hour, Dinner, Casino, Crows, Bed. A lovely time was had by all. You know what they say -- There’s No Time Like the Pleasant.

 

Day 4, Friday -- Astoria, Oregon. Drinking doesn’t cause hangovers, waking up does. But the good news is – after three sea days, we we’re finally getting off and would have wifi. I hadn’t seen a picture of Benedict Cumberbatch in three days! (Ladies, just Google him; Gentlemen, never mind.)

 

Backstory: (Not on the Benedict Cumberbatch thing. That’s not an obsession or anything and I think the restraining order was a complete overreaction on his part.) No, Astoria. I managed to get there once when I travelled with my friend Diana but a Level Five case of the Wine Flu prevented me from remembering anything but an overpowering marine aroma and a really annoying voice whispering, “Go to a meeting. Seriously, go to a meeting.” And we never did make it all the way to town.

 

Sis and I have since been on at least two cruises that were supposed to stop there but the choppy seas off the Oregon Coast made it impossible. This time we made it. There was a trolley to town but it wasn’t awake yet (not that we really were) so we decided to set off on foot. We walked along the train tracks toward the town and noticed that the mile markers kept telling us we were getting further from our destination rather than closer. Still, it was probably only about a mile and a half and there was a Maritime Memorial just under the Astoria-Megler Bridge that connects Oregon to Washington where we stopped and rested while taking in the view (Fitness Protection Program, remember?)

 

Once in town we found a lovely little Coffee Shop called Street 14. We had only planned as far as finding wifi and so when asked for our order, went kind of mute as we considered the question. Coffee? Breakfast? We hadn’t really thought the possibilities through. We stood there in a fog of debilitating indecisiveness. I’m still not sure what the “tells” were but the counter guy said, “Wine?” and we were back on our feet again. Not to get technical, but according to chemistry, alcohol is a solution.

 

After “breakfast” and several Internet photos of The Cumberbatch (Oh, sweet baby Jesus on a dinosaur, I needed that!) we wandered the town, and found that the locals were incredibly welcoming and very friendly. We snapped some nice pictures of the Oregon Film Museum, housed in the historic County Jail building, which pays tribute to the five or so famous movies filmed in the state (pretty sure that’s Goonies and four footnotes.) We walked some more and thankfully, we found the cute little free trolley back to the ship before our feet gave out.

 

Backstory: a month or so ago, the Evil Twin and I saw a show at a small local theater down the street that we both thoroughly enjoyed and she’s been talking about ever since. A performer named Jim Curry who does a spot-on John Denver. He looks like him, he sounds like him, and clearly, he respects the man and his music. He and his wife Anne, who plays several instruments and sings backup, put on a wonderful show and Sis has signed up to follow them on Facebook and other social media.

 

When we got back from the big city doings in Astoria, I pulled open the daily program and called out to her in the bathroom, “guess who’s headlining the showroom tonight? It’s someone you really like.” “Jimmy Buffett?” “Try again.” “Jim Curry!” “Yup.”

 

I think she screamed. This was one night she made me skip my espresso and rushed us off to the theater where she tried out every seat in the house before picking her perfect spot. The show was great and she sang in her sleep all night long. (Don’t read anything into this but I think I cursed more than usual.)

 

Day 5, Saturday -- Vancouver. They kicked us off. They said they loved us but they kicked us off. Happily, we were able to stay in the room while the misspelled stuarts straightened it for the next folks and changed the beds (which we immediately short-sheeted in a pique of jealousy at the thought of having to “downgrade” to a Vista Suite. Can you say, “Quality Problem?”)

 

At Canada Place we grabbed our bags and a taxi. Apparently it was Victoria Day weekend which I take it means that everyone with access to a car is called into taxi service. Our cabbie had clearly not been in the city more than a few hours and I’m not terribly sure he had ever operated a motor vehicle before. We almost hit one of the guys directing traffic (not too sure about his fitness for his job either) before we ever left the parking garage.

 

Once on the streets, we gave him the name of our hotel which clearly rang no bells. No problem, we have the street address -- 1225. “Robson? I know Robson,” he assured us. The idea that we wanted to be dropped at a specific location on Robson seemed to be beyond his ken (and frankly, well past his Barbie.)

 

Once on Robson he would randomly pull up and recite the closest street number. “1648?” “Yes, …. yes it is, but that hardly does us any good. How about 1225?” So, he’d drive another two blocks and try to wipe us off at 1836. “Uhm, do you think it might be behind us?” he’d ask. “Well, unless Vancouver uses a numbering system we’re not familiar with, I’d say that’s a good bet.”

 

We made at least three U-turns and at one stop sign a pedestrian banged on the hood to express his displeasure at having been bumped hard enough to spill his cup of Tim Horton’s. By the time we got to the hotel we were more sober than we’d been since leaving home and we set out to do something about that.

 

The Blue Horizon Hotel has a nice location and reasonable prices but since our room wasn’t ready we were more concerned with the restaurant/lounge.

 

We checked the bags and walked into the Abode just off the lobby where we found that adult beverages were not served until 11:00. OK, we can rally. We are professionals, after all. We ordered toast, bacon and coffee, hardly a combo that will really tax the kitchen staff at any restaurant that doesn’t have a bouncy castle.

 

Perhaps the electricity was down in the kitchen because the toast and bacon seemed to come straight from the refrigerator without ever having met any type of heat source. That however, doesn’t explain the coffee which seemed to be made from some combination of malt and the tears of small children. If we’d wanted liquid Marmite we would have been born British and presumably, would have the developed the proper antibodies.

 

I will say that the service was excellent but, as it was, we hurried through breakfast and went in search of other adventures. Assuming the 11:00 rule was Province-wide, we had an hour to kill before we could begin drinking Canada dry so we set off, lugging 10 pound carry-on bags and feeling every bit of the last four days of debauchery.

 

Today was Preakness Day and while we know that hats are only de rigueur at the Derby, we have hats and so we needed to wear hats. We passed several possible destinations as the 10 pound carry-ons morphed into 20 pound carry-ons.

 

We ended up at a place called Milestones where we killed a bottle of chard and waited for a place down the street, called Shenanigans, to open at noon. Shenanigans had a drawing of a leprechaun on the front window and seemed to be a friendly, Irish Sports Bar so we figured it would be a great place to watch the race. It was at least one of those things – an Irish Sports Bar. Friendly? Not so much. We sat, moved, sat, moved again and still couldn’t get the bartender to turn and make eye contact. Eventually we figured it must be a locals’ joint and moved on.

 

We walked the length of the street several times looking for a place to get comfortable and spend an afternoon sampling the local fare only to find that most establishments tended to close for lunch. My patience was decidedly in the deficit range. Still encumbered of the heavy baggage, (30 pounds, easy) we wandered into a place that didn’t look all that welcoming but was. CocoRico Café is a small, homey bistro with a full bar and even fuller kitchen. We were in Vancouver for 24 hours and went there three times. Twice for drinks and once for dinner (and drinks).

 

Waitress Mariana, just in from France, was there each time and didn’t bat an eye when we whipped out our fascinators before the race. California Chrome won easily and with two races under his belt, we now had a Triple Crown hopeful to bolster our spirits.

 

Checking into the hotel, we found that the corner room, and they’re all corner rooms, was gorgeous, with windows along two full walls and a balcony with a wonderful view of the Vancouver architecture that would make Prince Charles weep. Don’t get me wrong, I love Vancouver and I think it’s a beautiful city, but somehow it’s in spite of the architecture, not because of it. Whenever I see a building with some sort of flourish or, really anything that calls attention to itself, I think, “that’s just putting a hat on ugly.” (Much like with our Preakness hats!)

 

After dinner at CocoRico, we came home and slept well.

 

Day 6, Sunday -- Vancouver. Blackout drapes! (HAL – take note)

 

We slept in a bit, walked around the corner to Breka Bakery for bowls of coffee that didn’t taste like petroleum products and then went to say goodbye to Mariana at CocoRico. She was surprised, since wine is not a big seller for them, that they still had any left but they did. They probably don’t now.

 

Luckily, the cabbie who took us to the ship actually seemed to have driven in Vancouver before and delivered us to the port unscathed. There was a bit of a line and our feet and backs were killing us. We were pulled out of the line to present our two bottles of contraband for registration, which we had purchased in a liquor store in Vancouver. Unfortunately, we also bought something else that might prove to be a problem. Pocky Sticks. Billed as Chocolate Cream Covered Biscuit Sticks. These are evil. Seriously, for the next seven days, all we could think was, “why didn’t we buy more?” Save yourself the rehab. Just Say No! (Two days after arriving home, Sis had Googled them, found the closest dealer, um, I mean distributor, and bought enough to dole out like Methadone while we worked them out of our systems.)

 

We checked in on the Statendam, which has come to be our favorite ship of the Dam fleet. After making our way to our Vista Suite we found that our keycards didn’t work. I left Sis guarding the now 40 pound carry-ons and went to the Front Desk for new keys. The new keys didn’t work any better than the first ones did. Apparently, we weren’t the only ones as the desk was mobbed with folks having the same problem. We finally gained entry from our passing room stewards, Achmad and Made, and vowed to go back when we were sufficiently hydrated.

 

The Muster Drill was more of a downer than usual. Rather than announcing that “in the event of a real emergency we would send you to your staterooms,” they actually did. Many experienced cruisers went directly to their stations but we passed several folks who were going to their rooms as directed to put on heavy clothing and grab their essentials. (Our essentials were sitting in an ice bucket.)

 

This caused the drill to last close to an hour because the folks in their rooms didn’t even begin making their way to the Promenade until most of us had already been there for 40 minutes. To top it off, the Captain’s announcements were loud enough to trigger car alarms in Toronto.

 

After re-visiting the room and killing the first bottle onboard, we made our way to the Crows where we met Froilan and Elmer who would take very good care of us for the next seven days. At this point I’m sure that whenever our cards are swiped, a message pops up that says, “Mostly Harmless. Give them chardonnay and goldfish and no one will get hurt.”

 

Waiter Rein sold us the first wine tasting of the cruise and Froilan made no qualms about announcing loudly that, “Come Happy Hour, you’re mine!” No problem.

 

The MDR staff clearly got the same training as on the A’Dam because everything was as quick as it could be. Gede, Benjo and Made were front and center, every night. We bought a seven night wine package for the dining room and the first bottle, at least, measured up.

 

After dinner, we headed to the Piano Bar to see who was at the keys. If anyone remembers, there have been two HAL Piano Dudes who have knocked us off our barstools – Lee Strubeck, who as far as we can tell, is not longer doing the circuit, and Jimmy Maddox who we have actually changed itineraries for. Our first night with Damien has us thinking we may have found a third. He has a great voice and is obviously an accomplished musician.

 

My only “complaint” is that he’s hard to sing along with as he changes up the tempo and cadence in such a way that I feel he’d rather perform for a rapt audience than really foster a Piano Bar atmosphere with people getting actively involved in the show. Still, we chair danced and sang anyway. He also doesn’t take breaks so if you sit at the piano, and you want to move on to some other activity, it’s really difficult to leave without drawing attention to yourself and feeling rude.

 

We realized early on that requesting a particular song might not be the way to go and so, when he did ask for requests, we would name an artist instead. He always delivered, generally picking a B side that was lesser known than the songs the artist is famous for. That’s not a bad thing – we wrote down several songs/albums to look up when we got home, but I suppose a Piano Bar is not really where I want to hear new material but rather songs I know by heart.

 

Day 7, Monday -- Sea Day. “I didn’t drink enough water yesterday” is a euphemism for “I drank too much wine yesterday.”

 

We slept late and eventually wandered to the Mix for snacks. A note here – I’m never sure if people know about this wonderful feature. We first saw the Mix on the Rotterdam on the first cruise that they debuted it after a drydock. It wasn’t up and running the first few days (but neither was anything else) and since then, whenever we order munchies on any ship with a Mix, people all around us seem quite shocked. Sometimes even the bartender seems unfamiliar with the service. The menu is small but you can order sliders, chicken wings and a handful of other small plates, free of charge, and have them served, hot, at the bar or lounge. It’s a wonderful alternative to braving the Lido midday but we’ve never seen anyone take advantage of this option until we do.

 

After snacks we had our first drink of the day at the Crows. And then it was time for wine tasting. The first tasting of the cruise was in the Lower Dining Room and it was packed.

 

Cellar Master Ferdinand showed us how to open a champagne bottle with a spatula (since he can’t pack his sword post 9/11.) He also demonstrated how to competently open a screw top bottle by rolling it from the inside of the elbow to the wrist. Unfortunately, the Evil Twin tried this one night when I was in the shower and unable to stop her. She’s bruised from shoulder to fingertips. Apparently, she later confessed, the bottle then bounced off the balcony doors, before landing, still quite sealed, on the carpet. In alcohol’s defense, we’ve done some pretty stupid things when sober too.

 

Day 8, Tuesday -- Ketchikan. Living in Los Angeles where it never rains, we’re not at all used to being outdoors and wet at the same time. After a brief stop at the visitors’ center, we stood in line for the free sightseeing bus for about 20 minutes only to find the bus to be standing room only. It was pouring, and I, for one, wasn’t sure why I was fully dressed in the shower and so we decided to move on. We desperately needed coffee, wine, food, wifi or some combination thereof.

 

A few blocks later, still a bit confused as to the proper way to wear coats and scarves and wield umbrellas without doing bodily harm to ourselves or others, we passed a group of well-caffeinated young men on a street corner selling a sightseeing tour. Not being fully awake, the instincts said “no” and “we’ll come back later” but after dithering for longer than it takes most people to decide on a life partner, we finally said “yes” just so we could stop trying to converse with people at this hour.

 

A few minutes later, for $30 apiece, we were on a cute little trolley waiting for more passengers to take the bait. None did and so we had the tour to ourselves. The guide was adorable. He’d lived there his whole young life and put his heart and soul into showing his town off in the best light. He admitted he might be getting some of the facts wrong but took great pride in showing us the best side of Ketchikan. He didn’t manage to find us bears or moose but we saw more eagles than I’ve ever seen before in my life.

 

I deduced that math wasn’t his strong point when he told us that, in some ancient calamity, “two thirds of the population was decimated” and later that a three bedroom house costs “two quarters of a million dollars.” But, it was a wonderful way to see the highlights and well worth the price, however the math was done.

 

We had the trolley drop us off at Creek Street which is when it really started pouring and as we were moving through a crowded shopping area we heard our names squealed at high volume and turned to see Adi, our Dining Room Waiter, rushing out of a doorway to shower us with hugs and kisses. I was amazed he could even recognize us as we were bundled up like… well, I don’t know what we looked like, but I’m sure it was like something I’d draw with my left hand and I just hope it doesn’t end up on YouTube.

 

From there, we made our way back to the pier and stopped in at the Fish Pirate’s Saloon which had wifi, wine and really good homemade potato chips and French fries. We had two orders of fries. One thing that has been drummed into my head since the day I was born – there are two things my sister will not share – an umbrella and French fries.

 

Once back on the ship, Sis mentioned that she’d told Adi we were looking forward to seeing him for dinner. “Uh, I don’t think so.” “Aren’t we going to the dining room?” “Yes, but he’s on the Amsterdam; we’re on the Statendam. Unless you’re calling the helicopter, or we’re pulling some other Thelma and Louise-worthy stunt, we won’t be seeing him again.” But I swear I wasn’t condescending when I said it. (That’s when you talk down to someone, BTW.)

 

We went to Trivia and Happy Hour and Froilan asked if it we’d made it to the wine & cheese sailaway earlier. We’d passed through but it was packed so we kept moving. Upon hearing this, he went back into the kitchen area and prepared us a plate of cheeses, crackers, breads and snacks to take to our room. Which went particularly well with the bottle(s) of Chardonnay he sold us for just that purpose.

 

Note about Trivia: For the first time ever, the Cruise Director (they really are Camp Councilors for grown-ups, aren’t they?) offered no prizes, kept it civil, kept it short and really made it a terrific experience for all involved. Alex had great questions, which we hadn’t heard before and there was no pushing and shoving or arguing over who stole whose answers. The man knows how to keep his kids in line!

 

Alex never had a cheat sheet. He ran through the questions, repeating each once then asked if anyone needed another repeat before the scorecards were exchanged. The group had one chance to ask for seconds. Then he would close the floor, saying “OK, repeating 2, 8 and 12.” Once he started, there would be no more freebies.

 

He had memorized everything (and I mean everything). He had nothing written down and even spelled hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia several times from memory. (Look it up, I’ll wait.) We still think that “fear of spelling bees” should have been an acceptable answer.

 

Chorus: Dinner, Casino, Crows. Goes without saying. Although we also peeked in on Damien but we did it from the Martini Bar rather than getting so close that it’s hard to leave without offending.

 

Day 9, Wednesday – Juneau. That morning, I, for one, was moving at the speed of dark. We missed the Lido breakfast so we made our way off the ship and limped to the Twisted Fish for wifi and a bottle of wine. I looked at the wine menu and saw: Wines by the gls or bls. I instantly thought “gallons and barrels” but Sis says they meant glasses and bottles. And I was ready to move there.

 

We probably spent longer there than we should have but when I’m away from wifi for any length of time, I find myself ready to fight a radioactive bear to log on to the net. I can’t help it -- I go online to check my email and 5 hours later I’m watching a video tutorial about how to talk to a giraffe.

 

But we tore ourselves away and caught a gondola ride up to Mt. Roberts where we found a view, a gift shop and more wine before catching a trolley tour around town. After that, we made the obligatory visit to the Red Dog Saloon where a good time was had and souvenirs purchased.

 

Back on ship. Repeat Chorus.

 

Day 10 Thursday – Skagway. OK, the ships clock had changed by one hour. My cell phone did not. So, when setting the alarm I knew I had to make a one hour adjustment to one side or the other. Apparently, this grasshopper did not choose wisely. The risk I took was a calculated one, but clearly, calculation is not my strong suit. In the real world, I set the alarm for 4:45 instead of 6:45. Since we had ordered room service the night before and drawn lots for who needed to be up and dressed, Sis, who drew the short straw, was pretty pissed at me for a good portion of the morning.

 

I’ve always thought that, unlike my cell phone, I’m not getting thinner and smarter. Apparently, my cell phone’s not getting any smarter either. Still, I tried to convince her that I wasn’t to blame. “It’s not MY fault that I never learned to accept responsibility. I blame the scapegoats.”

 

Before disembarking, we had a nice view of the rock face where cruise ship crews get to paint tributes to their ship/captain. Local legend has it that the higher up the tribute, the higher esteem the captain is held in. We’d heard that Captain Albert, of blog fame, had recently gotten an entry but we couldn’t see it from where we docked. It was probably up in the clouds somewhere.

 

We headed off the ship and hopped on a bus that took us well out of town. After a bunch of photo stops, we pulled into a cute little artificial town called Caribou Crossing. I mean – really artificial. It was a façade of an old style town-front with a petting zoo, ice cream parlor and gift shop. Totally silly, but the baby goats were a blast. If I’d brought a bigger purse, I’d probably have one on my lap right now.

 

We also passed Emerald Lake which is one of several incredible scenic views we had during the day. We then stopped at the real town of Caribou Crossing which had shortened its name to Carcross. It’s an unincorporated community in Yukon, Canada on Bennett Lake and Nares Lake and is home to the Carcross/Tagish First Nation. As of the 2011 census it had a population of 289 and I think most of them were out and about while we stopped by.

 

Then we took a ride on the White Horse and Yukon Railroad. One of the most acclaimed engineering wonders of the world. It was a fun day but if you do it, bring a flask – otherwise known as a Thirst Aid Kit – there are no stops that are alcohol friendly.

 

The train left us off downtown and we had the option of getting back onto the bus for a ride back to the ship or cruising around on our own. We opted to go it alone. Unfortunately, there was no wifi anywhere and the walk back to the ship was much longer than it looked. It had been a very long, sober day and upon returning to the ship, we hit the store of wine in the room pretty hard and the rest of the evening was a bit fuzzy.

 

Now, normally, on vacation, we pace ourselves, which means we start early and go till late. We know how to handle that. Today, we were sober until late. That generally means trouble. We downed one bottle in the room and headed for the Mix for Happy Hour. Occasionally, we’ll buy a bottle at one of the bars, especially if we plan to stay to finish it. Sometimes, we leave a glass or two and come back. This time, it’s entirely possible we bought a case because for the next several days, wherever we went, waiters were telling us we had a bottle behind the bar and our wine cards got no exercise. Either that was a very big bottle or we actually bought a winery.

 

I know dinner happened and also the Crows after. We were hanging with our A’Dam friends when a karaoke session broke out and we knew we’d have to flee the scene before doing or saying anything to get us talked about too much in the crew quarters. I drink wine because I don’t like to keep things bottled up; karaoke is dangerous territory because I’ve never faked a sarcasm in my life and I wasn’t about to start now.

 

We hightailed it down to the Piano Bar but made the mistake of sitting in our normally favored spot – at the Piano. Damien was again, wonderful, but we felt exposed, like we were blocking people’s view of the headliner. We eventually managed to sneak out; no we didn’t, who am I kidding? We left and it was obvious and seemingly rude but we at least did it between songs (and bought him several drinks during the trip.)

 

Sometime that evening, the Evil Twin bought me a scarf in one of the shops. It happened to go well with the sweater I was wearing at the time and she absolutely insisted on buying it for me. The next morning she saw it on the couch and asked where I’d gotten it. When I tried to jog her memory, she resisted with all the effort that I would expect when faced with anything having to do with jogging. For a couple of days she was terrified that she’d actually stolen it but eventually, a receipt turned up and she was able to relax knowing that the authorities weren’t waiting to arrest her at the next port. At least not for that particular infraction.

 

Day 11, Friday – Scenic Glacier Cruising. The Evil One was up early for some reason that probably had to do with sunrise having occurred before we actually went to bed and the continuing scarcity of blackout drapes.

 

She was showered, dressed and on her way to the Lido for some coffee substitute before I opened my eyes for the first time. That was good because sometimes I wrestle with my demons; sometimes we just snuggle. This was a morning for snuggling so I settled in for a little more sleep.

 

By the time I was up and ready to face the day, we were sure it was too late to grab a spot in the Crows. This would be a full day of narration from the bridge and quiet contemplation of the beauty of nature. I was sure everyone on board would be glued to the windows in the best spot of all but we wandered through just to see and were surprised that there was plenty of room. Either that or Froi had saved our seats for us.

 

We had the best seats in the house for the view of the Margerie Glacier and I couldn’t believe how close we got to it. At times, from our seats at the bar, we couldn’t even glimpse the water line and saw only a wall of white and blue ice stretching the full length of the windows. We stayed there an hour or more and were rewarded with many instances of calving which I thought meant the glacier was having a cow but was actually much more impressive than anything that that concept brings to mind.

 

We eventually moved onto the Mix and continued drinking on the “one” bottle of wine the staff there seemed to believe we had on hold. I still think we bought a winery.

 

Then it was off to the Johns Hopkins Glacier which was almost more beautiful, if that’s possible.

 

We dressed for dinner and had a lovely time. Once again, we fled the Crows when karaoke threatened to break out. I’d rather step on a Lego and have even contemplated faking my own death to avoid another mangled version of We Are the Champions. Seriously, of all the martial arts, karaoke inflicts the most pain.

 

We ended up at the Martini Bar where we could hear Damien and sing along but not feel so awkward about leaving when we were ready to do that.

 

And here’s where we ran into a problem. We tried to activate the last beverage card of the trip but there was clearly a communication problem with the bartender. He kept trying to tell to tell us we should just charge to our room as it was so late in the cruise. We tried to explain that we’d already purchased the card so we didn’t want to incur new charges, just to activate the card we already owned. Eventually, it all went pear-shaped and he, apparently, sold us a new bev card, which was the last thing we needed. At the end of it all, it seemed like we now had two non-active wine cards and were charging drinks to the room. Not exactly the plan. We own a winery after all!

 

Day 12, Saturday – At Sea. We slept in a bit on our last full day onboard and decided it was the perfect time to do laundry. Only it soon became apparent that everyone else on the ship had the same idea. It was also clear to see that the competitive spirit missing from Trivia had relocated to the laundry room. We certainly weren’t going to arm wrestle anyone for access to a washing machine if there wasn’t even a golf towel in the offing and so gave up on that idea and had a drink in the Crow’s so we could practice our skills before wine tasting.

 

We also paid a visit to the Front Desk to sort out the wine cards. We now had a pre-purchased card that no one seemed willing to activate and a shiny new one that we never intended to buy. After a bit of back and forth which involved swiping the two cards upwards of a dozen times each, we went away with instructions to use one but not the other (which was which we never figured out). We were very confused and vowed to come back and try again later.

 

The second wine tasting of the trip was held in the Pinnacle and played to a much smaller group than had been in attendance in the dining room. The food pairings were decidedly more exotic, with mushrooms, salmon, foie gras, shrimp, duck breast, strawberry, lemon and chocolate. The Evil One would have had nothing at all to snack on were it not for the bags of popcorn at each setting, to be tasted with the California Chardonnay.

 

Ferdinand clearly loves what he does (why wouldn’t he?) and did a marvelous job of walking us through the offerings and even demonstrated how to open a bottle of champagne using only a champagne glass. It was a great tasting and as some people had reserved but not shown up, there were extra pours and extra nibbles for the rest of us.

 

Once back in the room, we actually managed to get that load of laundry done and started packing. We cleaned up, dressed for dinner and left gifts for our marvelous cabin stews before heading off to the MDR for the final dinner of the cruise.

 

Dinner was wonderful, as usual and the crew did their “end of cruise” parade around the room which is always fun. We thanked, tipped and hugged our new friends and set off for our last night on board.

 

As always, the last night seems to bring out people we’ve never seen before. We saw folks at the elevators arguing over whether the Crow’s Nest was up or down (from the fifth floor); people asking just how Happy Hour worked; wondering aloud where the front desk was, etc. Did they spend the whole of the last seven days in their room? We always wonder and it’s always a struggle not to mess with them a bit. I know the voices in my head aren’t real but sometimes they have some really good ideas.

 

We made it to the Crows for a final goodbye to many of our new friends and went to bed.

 

Day 13, Sunday – Seward. We got up; we got out. We were hurried on to a bus headed for Anchorage and did our best to keep our eyes open as the scenery was gorgeous but we were fairly well exhausted. Once the bus deposited us at the Visitors’ Center in Anchorage, we checked our carry-ons and headed out.

 

As soon as we were on the ground, the Twin turned to me and said, “if we run into Adi, don’t let me tell him I’ll see him tonight.” Not likely!

 

One of our friends from the Passenger Act Gang told us about Humpy’s. A fun bar/restaurant around the corner from absolutely everything in Anchorage and so we set off to seek it out. Seeing that the temperature was expected at around 65 degrees, I had left the ship in a light sweater and floor length maxi skirt that I was sure would be just fine. Once in town and walking around I realized that the temperature was not a terrible problem, as long as I could get indoors fairly soon, but my skirt was no match for the gale force winds. Since we couldn’t check into the hotel for several hours, we hightailed it to Humpy’s and I envisioned using a binder clip to turn my long skirt into a bohemian-type diaper on the way back to the hotel.

 

Humpy’s was fun but since we were hoping to settle in and regain the feeling in our frozen extremities, we were unhappy to relax into our booth and realize that every door and window in the place was wide open. Apparently, if we wanted to warm up, the only way to do it was through the consumption of alcohol. ‘K then.

 

After a drink or three, we set off to return to the Visitors’ Center, retrieve our luggage and make our way to the hotel. As we were crossing a small plaza, there was that that same, unmistakable shriek and a moment later we had armfuls of a gushing Adi, who frankly at this point should have been afraid we were stalking him. I mean really, to run into him twice after leaving his ship? We were seriously considering filling out adoption paperwork and bringing him home.

 

Once we’d grabbed our luggage and gotten to the hotel, we had another drama to deal with. We’d booked the Westmark which we knew was a hotel used by HAL but we booked it direct through its website. We’d gotten there before the busload of HAL folks and thought we might get a better room for having booked separately.

 

The agent behind the desk told us our room was ready but the manager, looking over his shoulder said it wasn’t. We hoped this meant we’d be getting an upgrade as Her Evilness also dropped the fact that she’d stayed there once before. We were sent off to their bar where we bought a bottle and waited for the room we now expected to be wonderful.

 

Not to be. Our room was on the second floor and we had to pass by the employee break room – separated from the hallway by something that looked suspiciously like a shower curtain -- several open storage closets and the bank of snack machines. The non-smoking balcony was ankle deep in cigarette butts and by the time we saw the evidence stating that the hotel was owned by HAL, the HAL buses were lined up beneath our window, spewing fumes into our room. Perhaps we’d have done better to book with HAL rather than going it on our own.

 

Once we checked in and changed, we went out and bought a one-hour trolley tour from a smiling tour guide named Cyrus that hit the highlights very well. (Later that night, we turned on the local news channel and saw Cyrus being interviewed about the first cruise ships of the season to hit the city.)

 

After the tour we stopped at the Snow Goose Restaurant and Sleeping Lady Brewing Company for some fresh pretzel sticks and iced tea (Relax, I just wanted to see if anyone was still reading!)

 

When we hit a liquor store on the way back to the hotel I was quite shocked to be asked for my ID. Hell, I still have browser tabs open from the Mondale campaign so it’s been quite a long time since my ID has been required. Imagine my surprise when they then carded the Evil Twin as well. Apparently, if two people enter a store together to purchase alcohol, they both have to be ID’d. I guess if you have a toddler, you need to tie ‘em up outside before entering the store.

 

We had planned to rally and find a nice place for dinner but after removing shoes and getting comfortable, it was quite apparent that we’d not be doing anything nearly that ambitious. Being so close to the snack machines was starting to look like a good thing after all. We turned a pocket full of singles into a stash of sugary and salty munchies and settled in to indulge in some innocent perusing of Cumberbatch pics on our various devices before making the long journey home in the morning.

 

All in all, a very successful vacation. There had been no gravity storms -- meaning -- no one fell down. Our tiaras still fit. I’m harder to kidnap than ever before. We have Pocky Sticks and I’m sure we’ll run into Adi sometime in the next couple of days. I think we’ll take him someplace with a bouncy castle.

Judy,

 

I don't know you personally but you have been my "go to" person for all things cruise related for 10 years now. While cruising joins all of us on these boards together, circumstances like this remind us that we all have larger lives on the outside.

 

I am so sorry to hear of your husband's passing and wish you all the ease and comfort you surely deserve.

 

Please know you have my deepest condolences and I will send you white light and peaceful thoughts.

 

Diann

Absolutely love it! :)

My best was from my travelling companion the one time the Evil Twin and I didn't sail together. The morning after our first night closing the Crow's Nest, she said, "tonight can we go to a bar with younger people?"

 

"Sure," I said, "I'll call the helicopter."

 

Weird thing is, we're both pushing 50 and were not obviously "out aged" at all.

Oh no! No free dry cleaning?! That’s outrageous. What have we been doing these last 10 years? For shame, HAL, for shame.

 

I see a grassroots protest in Seattle’s future!

 

 

Silvercruiser – yes, we’ll be on the Amsterdam starting on the 13th. I doubt there’s a meet & greet (I haven’t actually looked though) but we can definitely make plans to meet up. Apparently, we’ll be the ones in the dirty clothes!

 

Sisters744

Or, “Why I Love the Passenger Act of 1886”

 

When the younger, prettier twin and I set off on our first cruise almost 10 years ago, we knew the stakes. We knew the score. We knew we were committing to spend four figures to attain those coveted little enamel pins – blue, red, gold – that would eventually end up swept into the corner at the dry cleaner’s, never to be seen again.

 

We knew the hundred day medallion would set us back five figures and thereafter languish in the deepest recesses of the third-best jewelry box gathering dust on the bookcase in the hallway. We knew it would hurt but we knew we were up to the challenge. We had our eyes on the prize.

 

With seven days to go to four-star status, we looked to book a Coastal/Alaska cruise only to realize that, once again, the Passenger Act was conspiring against us in favor of protecting the health and prosperity of America’s bustling cruise ship industry.

 

And so, rather than book a B2B on the Statendam, we will enjoy the luxury of the Amsterdam for four days, disembark and join the Statendam the following day for transit to Anchorage.

 

There’s always a silver lining. Four nights will certainly get us seven cruise night credits. And even if we won’t have the pin to prove it (my dry cleaner doesn't need another pin anyway) we’ll know that we’ve hit the goal of four stars in ten years.

 

If anyone has any dry cleaning to be done, feel free to send it along.

 

Diann

This will be me on embarkation day:

 

http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi2245853465/

You can call Room Service the day you board and order however many bottles you want for your whole cruise. Open them when you wish. Or ou can likely order them in advance (Ships Services 800-541-1576) and they will be waiting in your cabin when you arrive.

 

People have been doing that for hard liquors for years.

 

You do not have to buy one bottle at a time.

 

Thanks Sail, I figured something like that could be done.

 

Still, I’m angry that I signed a contract with HAL with the understanding that I could bring wine onboard as I’ve done for each of my previous cruises only to find that they’ve changed the rules a few weeks before sailing.

 

I don’t mind paying $32 for an $8 bottle of wine in the dining room or lounges (double that in the Pinnacle) because I know that I’m paying for the hard-working crew to take my order, open, pour, smile and make chit chat, wipe the bar and wash the glasses when I’m done. Plus, I’m in a social situation in a beautiful atmosphere and that’s what’s being served.

 

But if I’m willing to carry my own small stash onboard to enjoy in my jammies before bed, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to. The upshot is that, between the Evil Twin and me, HAL will sell an additional 5 bottles on our September cruise for use in our cabin. And Princess just might get our business from here on out.

I am 18 points away from achieving 4-star status and am past the full payment date for a 7-night outing in September that will get me down to single digits. And there, I fear, is where it will end.

 

As some of you know, Sis and I spend freely in the MDR and the various lounges onboard. We have never taken wine from our cabin out into the public areas but we do enjoy a pre-dinner drink and nightcap back in the room.

 

Now, if I’m getting this right, we’ll need to call room service – probably around the same time as all the other folks who care for a pre-dinner drink in their cabins – and wait while the ever-shrinking number of servers scurry to keep up with increased demand. And we’ll pay handsomely for the privilege.

 

I used to think that the Mariner program was in place to reward and nurture the relationships with loyal customers. Now I’m realizing that it’s actually more of an “expiration date.” By the time that fourth star is in reach, the list of “things of I used to love about HAL” is long and yellowed.

 

Does anyone have a link to the prices for “In-Room Dining offers reduced-price stateroom beverage packages for in-stateroom consumption of alcoholic beverages….”

 

And thanks, Lisa, for the heads-up.

RuthC and Longhorn Cruiser (and everyone who chimed in),

 

Thanks for the answers. The Evil Twin and I will be taking the Maasdam for a spin in September and it's nice to know what to expect, especially from the Piano Bar where we either mark our territory and defend it from first day to last or avoid completely after the first two songs, depending on the Piano Man.

 

We'll definitely give Jeff Warren a try if he's still onboard.

Hi Longhorn,

 

Welcome back!

 

I have two questions I hope you can answer:

 

Do you know the name of the Piano player in the Piano Bar?

 

And I know the Maasdam doesn't technically have a SeaView Bar but was there a smoking section on that aft deck behind the Lido?

 

Many thanks and I'm looking forward to hearing more of your thoughts on your Maasdam cruise. September will be my first outing on her and I've heard nothing but wonderful things.

 

(And since it was put in writing in July, it's good to know no one can blame me for the broken window)

 

Diann

I see that this is an old thread that's been picked up in reruns but I have to chime in to say that Jimmy Maddox is worth changing your travel plans for. Sis and I did just that when we passed over our favorite ship in order to book one we didn't like nearly as much just because Jimmy was at the keys.

 

Whatever you do, don't miss him if you can help it.

 

Diann

Marvelous! I enjoyed every moment of it! :D