Carinval Glory - NYC to New England... A Memoir

[pe4all]

That's a good point.

 

"UNCLE!"

 

Whew... glad that's over with now.

 

A good man knows when to admit he is wrong - which is always when dealing with his wife! :)

Edited August 14, 2011 by pe4all

[leaski]

"BTW....I told my husband about the Indian food option and he was like "sweet, now I don't even need to look at the menu" although he did ask if it was available for breakfast and lunch too. We don't get much Indian food (good or otherwise) in northern Wisconsin so we take it when we can get it."

 

Just for informational purposes, the menus are changing on the ships. I just got off the Glory last week, which now has the new menu. It has a "Today" side (left side) which is food choices that change daily, the right side is the "Everyday" side, which I am assuming by the name, means it's there every day.;) The "Everyday" side has the vegetarian indian dish listed. Maybe they had enough requests they decided to offer it to the masses!

 

Loving the memoir!!! Going to be lost when i's all over!!!:(

Edited August 14, 2011 by leaski

[ShakyBeef]

That's a good point.

 

"UNCLE!"

 

Whew... glad that's over with now.

 

 

Oh, unfortunately, it is not over, as I have just recently taken a break from cleaning your house and rearing your children to sit down at my computer and have seen your charming post...

 

 

So.... I'm wondering why a part of your own chosen name seems to offend you. For example, if someone were to refer to me as "Delta" or "Hotel", it wouldn't bother me at all, because I chose both names. There are many other people on CC with multi-part names - I wonder how many of them would be bothered by the second half of their name. It's not like I'm rearranging the letters in your name to make something else... it's the word you chose. So I'm confused. Any rational explanation for why you seem to dislike your own name so much?

Your loving,

DH

 

 

My Darling Husband,

 

 

As you well know, it's about the intent with which the name is used. It’s not that one part of my chosen (admittedly silly) screen-name is offensive as a single word.

 

You originally called me Beef in the derisive tone (yes, I did hear your tone of voice in your post:cool:) which one might utter a different ‘b’ word. You remember well, you were quite pleased with yourself for “Eat it, BEEF!” You did it to rile me; and it worked, as you knew it would. Every time hence you have called me Beef has been to achieve the same adolescent goal. So for you to now be “wondering” why being called just that one part of my name offends me is yet another attempt to similarly rile. You’re not confused, you’re just sniping. As your long-suffering wifey, I am simply an easy target for you, as well as your daily target of choice. And really, the “any rational explanation” question? When have you ever thought me rational? Dork.

 

Tonight I’m gonna leave your yesterday’s worked-all-day-and-night-in-them, stinky socks on your pillow instead of the nice, clean sleep-socks since that gesture got me such a lovely reward from my loving DH.

 

BTW, shouldn’t you be moving servers or setting up firewalls or some such geek stuff that pays for our cruises instead of attacking your thoughtful, sweet, loving wife on a public online forum?

 

Do you really think all these people want to witness your shameful, continued, cruel attacks on your meek, devoted helpmate? They are here for the tedious details of a cruise they weren’t on, as experienced by people they don’t know. Get over yourself and get back to work.

 

Always,

Your Beef

 

Edited to add: I have no idea what I did to make his signature appear as a seperate quote, sorry.

Edited August 14, 2011 by ShakyBeef

[Delta Hotel]

Tonight I’m gonna leave your yesterday’s worked-all-day-and-night-in-them, stinky socks on your pillow instead of the nice, clean sleep-socks since that gesture got me such a lovely reward from my loving DH.

 

I called "Uncle". I love you, too.

[ShakyBeef]

I called "Uncle". I love you, too.

 

Your utter surrender and humble apology (yes, I believe there was an apology in there, somewhere) are duly accepted.

 

I love you too, dork.

 

 

As you were.

[rp5]

This is really a great memoir of your trip, even if it did cost me 4 hours to read it all tonight! Having taken this trip last year, it has been like a trip down memory lane (with all the wit making it even more entertaining).

 

Thanks for giving so much of your time (and yourselves) in putting this out there for us all to enjoy.

[pe4all]

I called "Uncle". I love you, too.

 

Your utter surrender and humble apology (yes, I believe there was an apology in there, somewhere) are duly accepted.

 

I love you too, dork.

 

As you were.

I love happy endings!:p:D

[trvlqueen]

Hey - have you two made up from your online lover's spat yet? I hope so, because I was hoping to hear the end of your trip - I have 3 weeks to go until my cruise and have been living vicariously through others - yours being the one I've enjoyed the most - but you're leaving us all hanging out here -

 

(attempting to sound like a 6 year old)

 

"C'mon! Pleeeeeasse?????!!!!!????? Just a few more posts???? I promise to behave!" (or not, lol)

[bragstarr]

Yes it's Sunday, and pouring and gloomy here in NY. Please continue so I have something to read after the newspapers!

 

I'm glad all is well and the name spat is over!

[usafchick1980]

Further down the hall, we encounter the teenager and tween club rooms like Circle-C, UltraViolet’s Arcade, Club O2, and the White Heat Dance Club which seemed to be reserved mostly for the pre-teen group activities. The White Heat Dance Club has a dance floor with a back wall. The back wall has a large glass window which looks out into the stairwell behind the club. This means that if you’re walking up or down that stairwell, you can look into the kiddie dance club and see them dancing or doing activities. One time, as I passed through this stairwell with my 5 year old, she stops to look in the window – clearly mesmerized by the older kids playing on the other side of the glass. A boy who seemed to be about 7-8 comes running over to the window and waves to my daughter. She, being shy, turns and walks away from the window which leaves me and the 8 year old boy. He looks at me and puts on his mean-looking “I’m a spoiled brat, and my parents aren’t around to curb my A.D.D. or violent tendancies” face, and holds a couple of fists up to the glass. Normally, I would continue to be the adult, and pretend that I was well above such simple taunting. However, I am on vacation. I glanced around to see who was around, turned back to the glass, and discretely stuck my tongue out at the boy. The boy came closer to the glass and stuck his tongue out as far as he could. I thought to myself “ah, yes… now I’ve got him, he’s just bacteria covered putty in my hands”. Again, I glanced around to see who was nearby – no one. My daughter is standing on the steps nearby, but facing away from me. I quickly lean toward the glass, pretend to lick the window in a quick movement. As planned, the boy couldn’t resist… he leaned forward and stuck his tongue on the glass and began to lick up and down on the window making slug trails as he moved along. As soon as the boy’s tongue touched the glass, I turned and walked away. Yes, yes, yes… I know that I was inciting the misbehavior of a child. Yes, I know that I shouldn’t feel proud in being able to trick an 8 year old into licking a window. Yes, I also know that I, for a brief moment, acted childish… I know you are, but what am I?

 

This is the first that I have taken the time to read this review. So far I am so glad that I did. The part about the window licker had tears running down my face from laughing so hard. Which would be fine except that I am at work sitting in a room with 4 other people who can see my every action. I am sure that they think I am crazy right about now. But it was worth it..thank you for the great laugh..just at that part..I am sure that there are more to come.

[ShakyBeef]

Sorry for the continued delay, folks.:o Due to DH having to work all day and well into the night for the last three days (yes, he's back at work again today), he just hasn't had enough time or functioning brain cells left with which to write. He did get some done last night, though. And once he gets home tonight, he'll be finishing that chunk and we'll get it proofed and posted ASAP.

 

In the meantime,

 

you know the drill...

 

 

I bet you didn't even click on that this time, did you?:cool:

 

If you did, Hi!:) You're new here, aren't you?

[Delta Hotel]

Mom and Dad take off in a hurry with the girls. Wifey and I sit at the table for a few more minutes while I finish my cappuccino and pie. After I’ve had enough pie (I didn’t finish it) and Wifey’s ready to go, we leisurely leave the MDR and walk toward the atrium lobby. Since it’s just the two of us, and we don’t have to try and manage kids or parents, we stroll through the photo gallery, searching for pictures of our group. As we approach the photo gallery with the intent of looking at photos (but not buying them), I keep my smile and don’t let on the fact that I’m having a wicked battle inside of me about the dilemma that I know we will certainly encounter in less than one minute’s time.

 

As an avid photographer [who’s not really good at taking pictures but takes lots of them anyway], I feel that I’m justified in my decision to resist buying professional photos of our children. Wifey and I couldn’t care less about photos of us, it’s pictures of our children that are so hard to turn down, knowing that real pictures of the children I’ve financially supported for years will be shredded and thrown away by complete strangers. Strangers who are likely to be from Indonesia, India, or Thailand!

 

Photos of us are usually horrible. We almost never see a cruise ship photo of us that we’d ever consider buying. I only added the word “almost” because it’s not like me to use strong, definitive language when speaking about anything that involves my memory or judgment since I’ve been told that I’m wrong so incredibly often. I’m told that I’m wrong so often that eventually it just sinks in and now, almost every thought is immediately followed by the statement, or at the very least the thought, “… but I could be wrong.”

 

We peruse the photo gallery and find some photos of us and our kids, and some of Wifey’s parents. We flip through the photos of the kids, and either put photos of us in the back of the pile, or we pull them down and drop them into the trash can on the floor. Oh yeah, there’s often a cardboard box on the floor in the photo gallery that you can place your rejected photos in so that they don’t take up extra space, and they’re easier to sort through later… or something like that… but I could be wrong.

 

I was actually hoping to not see any good photos of my girls in the gallery. This sounds counter-intuitive, but I dread having to make the decision of whether to buy a picture or not. It’s partly about the excessive cost of the cruise ship photo packages, but it’s mostly a desire to feel like I’ve succeeded. For example, if I see a photo in the gallery of my girls that makes me think, “Wow. That’s a great photo of my girls. We need to buy that”, there’s a little part of me that feels like I’ve somehow failed as a photographer [amateur though I may be]. I like to look at pictures that invoke feeling, and try to decipher what it is about the photograph that causes the feeling, and then I try to practice that “feeling” in my own photos. Of course, these are just thoughts that I have. I normally don’t ever get around to doing any of this… but I like to think about doing it.

 

Whew! No great photos of our girls. That’s a relief. Time to move on.

 

We wander toward the atrium lobby. We’re on Deck 4, and we approach the spiral-like staircase that leads down to the atrium lobby bar. I head toward the stairs, indicating to Wifey that I’d like to take the stairs down to Deck 3. I have no goal, and no agenda. I just wanted to be on Deck 3, and thought that the spiral-like staircase would be a fun way to get there. I’m calling it a spiral-like staircase because the staircase never actually completes a full circle (if viewed from above). For me, a real spiral staircase must complete at least one full circle; these stairs do not.

 

I know, this sounds terribly picky and perhaps a waste of brain-space, but details like this help me to hold my world together. If a staircase which only completes half of a circle can be called a spiral staircase, then where do you draw the line between a spiral staircase, and “just a curved staircase”? Go ahead, stop and think about this as you sip your coffee. It may help to stare blankly at an inanimate object in the room as you contemplate the definition of spiral staircase. If you’re in a room with a window, do not look out the window. Now, raise one eyebrow slightly, and say the following out loud… ready?

 

[YOU] “Hmm. Is a spiral staircase really a spiral staircase if none of the treads on the staircase are ever overlapped by other treads on the same staircase? What if the staircase gradually grows in diameter as it goes downward or upward? Would this qualify as a spiral staircase? How much higher or lower does the next step have to be in order to be considered a ‘stair’?”

 

Good, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way – Wifey and I go down the stairs to the atrium lobby area. We walk through the lobby toward the glass elevators. Without really saying anything to each other, we had already decided to go to the Lido bar.

 

We round the corner by Guest services, enter the Deck 3 elevator lobby, press the up-arrow button on the glass elevator wall, and wait for a few seconds. Wifey and I split up a little so she can watch the elevators on the left, and I can watch the elevators on the right side. The glass elevator doors are set in from the lobby wall, so it’s difficult to see when doors open on the far ends. A few seconds later, an elevator arrives (we can see it appear through the glass) and it’s right between us. We both take a couple of steps toward each other while still leaving enough room for anyone in the elevator to get out.

 

When the doors open, we see that there’s a large man on a scooter in the elevator already, but there’s still room behind him for Wifey and me to stand comfortably, but not to move around. The man is facing forward toward the atrium, with his back to the elevator doors. When I say “large man”, I’m not accurately describing his size. This man would easily qualify for the term “morbidly obese”. Keep in mind that I’m not using this term as a personal judgment, but rather as a generally accepted term (often used by medical professionals) so that you can more accurately imagine the scene in the elevator.

 

As we step into the elevator, we notice that there’s another person in the elevator with him, a young, happy fellow with a great smile. Wifey and I both stand behind the scooter and Wifey presses the button for the Deck 9 since the buttons are on her side of the elevator, and there’s no room for me to reach around her. The young man in the elevator with us is standing up against the glass on the right, front corner of the small elevator.

 

The elevator goes up and stops on Deck 9, and the doors open. Looking over my shoulder to make sure the lobby is clear, Wifey and I take a step backwards out of the elevator (since there’s not enough room for both of us to comfortably turn around). I’m not sure if the man on the scooter meant to get off on Deck 9 or not, perhaps the young man in the front of the elevator wanted to get off on Deck 9, so he asked the man on the scooter to let him out. Again, these glass elevators are relatively narrow, and the man on the scooter took up the entire width of the elevator, so the young man in the front couldn’t have even squeezed by the scooter if he had wanted to. If he had attempted to, I’m sure that there would have been a considerable amount of body contact, more contact than even the friendliest of strangers would be comfortable with.

 

Wifey and I are out of the elevator but still facing the doors because we stepped out backwards. We hear the beeping of the scooter as it backs out of the elevator. The man on the scooter backs out of the elevator without looking over his shoulder – he just goes. Wifey and I see a young twenty-something couple approaching the elevator door from the right side. I think they just wanted to cross through the walkway and didn’t necessarily want to get on the elevator. The young couple hears the beeping of the scooter and stops just shy of the elevator doors. The man on the scooter continues to back up out of the elevator and without noticing, backs over the young woman’s foot with the rear right wheel of the scooter.

 

The woman yelps and begins to hop on her left foot while trying to balance on her remaining open-toed high-heeled shoe. The young man in the hallway grabs her arm to help balance her. The young man says to his girlfriend [i’m assuming], “Are you OK?”

“He just… he just ran over my foot!” she says loudly, with half amazement and also what I take to be her version of letting him (the man on the scooter) know what he has just done, in case he didn’t notice. There’s a moment of still air among all of us. I can’t speak for anyone else there, but in this brief pause, I was waiting/expecting an apology of some kind. The moment was probably less than half of a second in total, but it felt like a full minute.

 

The man on the scooter glances up at the young couple, continues to back up, turns the scooter’s handlebars, and without a single word said or muttered, rolls off down the hallway as we all watch him leave. Wifey and I both see this happen and we stand there with that “Oh my… did I just see that happen?” face. Wifey and I make eye contact with the young couple and share a brief wordless moment of disbelief.

 

Wifey notices that the other woman is still favoring her one foot and says to the young woman, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, thanks.” The young woman says, as she puts her foot down and the two begin to walk off down the hallway in their originally intended direction.

 

We shake our heads in disbelief and begin to move toward the Lido Bar. It’s a little after 8PM now, but there’s still some light in the sky. The sky is colored in wonderful shades of blues and oranges, with the clouds moving between shades of purples, grays, and blues. I deposit Wifey at the Lido outdoor bar and walk over to the glass wall which surrounds the Lido deck. I scan the large panes of glass for a relatively clear area through which I can take a few pictures. I don’t like taking pictures through glass, especially dirty, salt-covered, tempered glass, but I also didn’t feel like walking up the stairs to Deck 10 where there’s open air. So… my photos suffered a little bit for my laziness. Oh well… I forgive me.

 

I take about 12-15 pictures, making small adjustments between each one, then using the LCD screen on my camera to check for exposure, color, and light adjustments. After about a minute or so, I get bored, and the sun is setting quickly, and the photos are becoming very blah… so I quit and walk back over to Wifey.

 

[Koiman1]

WOW! This has been a interesting read. I'm on the Glory soon so that is what brought me here. The little ribbing of the DH @ DW thing reminds so much of the DW and and how I like to tease her. ( of course she ALWAYS gets me back ) I just found this yesterday and have been reading on and off for the past two days. I guess the break from this thread is just about perfect right about now as I'm all out of popcorn now. :D

 

Thaanks you two

[bragstarr]

Just an aside, if anyone reading this review is on Glory the September 5 sailing and has not joined our roll call, come on over to the roll call page and join us!

 

 

DH--Did the Delta Hotel COME from the fact that you were the "DH" to ShakyBeef?

 

Actually, after that last Sunset photo, I think you are Don Ho and you actually took it in Hawaii. And if you don't know who Don Ho is, I am definitely dating myself!

[ShakyBeef]

Here's the story behind his CC screen-name:

 

Last year, he joined our roll call (I was a CC member, he was not) and started posting ridiculous, obnoxious comments under the alias Delta Hotel. I caught onto him pretty quickly. DH = Dear Husband (in CC forum lingo) = Delta Hotel (in phonetic code alphabet).:rolleyes::p

[bragstarr]

Yep, I thought the Delta Hotel WOULD have come from "DH!"

[Delta Hotel]

Here's the story behind his CC screen-name:

 

Last year, he joined our roll call (I was a CC member, he was not) and started posting ridiculous, obnoxious comments under the alias Delta Hotel. I caught onto him pretty quickly. DH = Dear Husband (in CC forum lingo) = Delta Hotel (in phonetic code alphabet).:rolleyes::p

 

Yes, and it didn't help that I would sit right next to her on the couch (with our respective laptops) laughing as I posted on the same thread that she was posting on. My hysterical laughing helped her figure it out.

[Delta Hotel]

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

 

I just noticed that my memoir (as written in Microsoft Word) has passed the 200 page mark!

 

I am excited by the progress I'm making in this small book of mine, and saddened by the idea of how many hours I've taken away from my family writing it. <sigh>

 

DH

[Delta Hotel]

I find Wifey where I left her a minute ago, sitting at a table between the glass wall and the bar. We decide that we’d rather sit at the bar, so we move a few feet to the empty row of bar stools. This time at the Lido bar, there’s only one bartender. The sun has gone down now and it’s getting dark, cold, and dreary outside with a light misty rain that stings a little when it hits your face. I’m a bit surprised at how uncomfortable these tiny little rain drops are when they’re whipped into your face as you walk across the open decks.

 

We’re the only passengers at the bar, with the exception of the occasional outdoor-movie-watcher that comes over to buy a drink or a box of popcorn. It’s not really noticeable from the movie theater area, but this bar sells fresh popped popcorn in those red and white vertically stripped popcorn boxes. I don’t know how much they are, and we didn’t get any, but it’s good to know it’s there.

 

The one bartender working tonight happens to be the older Indonesian man that was putting labels on containers earlier today. So he IS a bartender! Remember? I was giving him the benefit of the doubt as to why he was so obviously ignoring us, and thought that he might not actually be a bartender. Well, I have a little “Ah HA!” moment as I wait for Wifey to sit down on her stool. As Wifey carefully slides herself onto the barstool, I stand behind and just off to one side, with my right arm extended around her back to make sure that she doesn’t have some crazy accident and suddenly fall off the back of the stool. It’s not likely that it’ll happen, but it’s also not likely that Wifey would wildly swing her car door open and crack both front teeth of a small child who happened to be walking in between the parked cars in a grocery store parking lot… but hey… things happen, right? That’s why I open the car door for Wifey when we’re together.

 

Oh? No… no, she didn’t actually knock some kid in the face with the car door. That was just an example of something that could happen, not something that did happen. And if this little scenario did happen, it’s much more likely to involve me instead of Wifey, and the kid’s more likely to be a teenage boy, and his mouth would most likely be at car-door height because his pants were too loose and fell around his ankles causing him to trip and fall near my car, and he wouldn’t see my car door coming at his face because his girly-stupid hair style is swept across his eyes which renders him legally blind in 38 states. But like I said, none of this ever happened.

 

Back to the bar stool. I “help” Wifey get on the stool by doing nothing at all, except waiting to see if she screws it up somehow. She sits on the stool without incident; we’re off to a good start. I stand next to her with my left leg half-resting on the stool, and all of my weight resting on my right leg. I would sit down, but since I’m only 5 feet and 7.5 inches tall, I feel very short when I sit on these particular stools, thereby giving me a kid-like feeling. I’m not a big guy by any measure. In Cambodia, I’m above average height, and since I have an abundance of “pack on the pounds” diet choices available to me on a regular basis, I’m probably also considered to be above average weight, too. I’ve never been in a crowd of just Cambodians, but I’m sure that if I ever am, I’d be among the taller ones. I used to be tall and very well built, but since I stopped wearing cowboy boots and I don’t work out anymore, I’ve just been… well, this. I’ve never been to Cambodia.

 

I stand next to the bar to get the bartender’s attention and to order drinks for us. The waiter comes over to us, smiles, and gives the “What can I do for you?” nod. He doesn’t say anything, just a nod and a smile. I order my standard Miller Light bottle-can, and Wifey gets something with an umbrella. I don’t recall which drink she orders this time, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say it was probably $6.75 with some fruit juice in it.

 

As I half-sit on the stool with one foot touching the floor, I look around at the outdoor movie theater. There’s somewhere between 50 to 75 people spread evenly throughout the outdoor theater watching the movie. Most of them are bundled in blankets, beach towels, and jackets laid across their laps. The movie is “Yogi Bear”. It’s extremely loud, the character voices are horrible, and the sound effects are almost causing my ears to pop and ring like I’ve just been too close to a low-grade explosion. I saw a few seconds of the movie as we walked through the open deck area to reach the bar. It may be a decent movie, but from the few seconds of video and what I heard of the dialogue, I have no interest in ever watching this movie. I wish I could’ve un-seen and un-heard the parts that I’ve already experienced.

 

I drink some more beer and watch more strangers stare at a giant screen. Some of the strangers are sitting outside in the cold and misty rain watching a giant screen while a small subset of these strangers are too distracted by a small glowing screen in their hands to pay attention to the giant glowing screen above them. I see two teenage girls wrapped in sweatshirts and blankets sitting in the stadium-style seats. Each girl being distracted by the other girl’s glowing screen – and they both look back and forth from their little screen to the other one’s little screen, then back again. Why are they even outside in front of the giant screen? They can stare at each other’s [fill in this blank with some handheld device] anywhere on the ship or in their cabin. Although it’s hard for me to be too judgmental about other people doing silly and pointless things. Here I am, sitting in the cold and misty rain, on a ship with my in-laws, drinking beer. I hate the cold. I hate the rain. I adore my in-laws, and I’m allergic to alcohol. All true.

 

We check the time, and decide that we need to head down to the comedy club in order to catch the beginning of the 8:30 show. I take my can-bottle with me, and Wifey takes her drink as well. As we begin to cross the open deck of the “movie theatre”, Wifey slows down and I stiffen up my right arm at an angle next to my body, and she reaches up and holds onto my arm as we walk across the wet deck. There are only a few things that are more ego-inflating to a man than a woman holding onto his arm as they walk. If his arm is limp and swinging freely when she reaches for it, it should become taught and firm almost immediately. Most likely, he’ll also stand straighter and walk with more precision, even if it isn’t easily perceivable to the bystander. I can’t speak for the woman, but… well, who cares…

 

We walk across the open deck into the short walkway opposite the movie screen which leads to the sliding glass doors. Each time I walk into this “funnel” of a hallway (entering or exiting the glass doors), it makes me feel as though I’m a football player coming onto the field from the locker room, or perhaps a slave in ancient Rome being sent into the coliseum for someone else to get a laugh out of me being chased by lions or having spears thrown at me.

 

On a few occasions during the first days of the cruise, I would come out of the glass doors and take a few steps into this mini-hallway and look up, expecting to see a certain 8-year-old boy leaning over the rail preparing to spit on me because his mother caught him licking the glass wall in the White Heat lounge and whacked him a few times on the bottom. I never saw the boy waiting for me, but if it did happen, I’d be ready for him. Seeing as how I always seem to have a beer in my hand, I figure that if that boy ever tried to get me back for that stomach-virus-of-unknown-origin, I’d just “accidentally” spill my beer on him and tell his mother that he tried to steal it from me, tripped over my foot, and I tried to catch his face with my palm.

 

We leave the outdoor area and go inside. Wifey doesn’t slip, and that’s good because although it would be nice to catch my lovely wife in my loving arms, I don’t look forward to having to make the quick decision of where to set my beer before catching her. Good thing I didn’t have to make that decision today. All’s well that ends well.

 

We pass through the sports-memorabilia laden hallway and work our way down to the comedy club on Deck 5. Buuuuuuut…. The comedy club is Deck 5 aft and we’re walking forward. We lose a few minutes, but that’s OK. We arrive at the comedy club a few minutes before 8:30PM and the Ebony Cabaret is packed solid. The room is with the exception of the stage lights, and we’re standing out in the hallway looking through the glass wall. There are people standing all around the back and side walls. It’s hard to see into the dark room, but it looks like all of the seats are taken, and we can barely squeeze into the club, much less hope to find two seats.

 

The 7:30PM show is just about to end, so we wait outside for the room to clear. Looking through the glass wall, we see Mom and Dad sitting at a slightly-less-than-half-circle booth with the girls. Their booth is close to the door and also pretty close to the stage, so altogether a good seat for the show. The comedian finishes his set and the audience applauds. After a few minutes, the lights in the club come up a little and some of the crowd in the club flows out into the hall and nearby elevator lobby. When there’s an opportunity, Wifey and I slip into the club and take a seat with the rest of our group.

 

Wifey immediately notices that there are two Shirley Temples on the small round table in front of the girls. Wifey looks at her parents with what is most likely some kind of “Hey I thought we told you no more soda” expression. I don’t know what her face was doing because I was standing behind her in a dim room. Dad brushes her off with a “lighten up” facial expression, and the moment passes. The girls aren’t allowed to drink soda at home, and rarely get to drink it anywhere we go, but they’re suspiciously silent when someone offers them soda. I suppose that they’re just accepting the soda out of tolerance and politeness.

 

We squeeze in between Mom and Dad and the girls and sit down on the bench, getting settled in for the next comedy show which is supposed to start in a few minutes. Just at the moment that I’m feeling anxious and bored, the host comes out on stage and announces the next comedian. The comedian’s name is Steve White, and he’s very funny. During his show, he announces his website as “Steve Aint White dot-com” and his videos are also on YouTube.

 

The comedy show was labeled as Family Friendly, and for the most part it is. There were a few jokes here and there that got close to “the line” but nothing that went over. And everything that could’ve been questionable, was probably too “grown up” for little kids to understand anyway. A little while after the show started and the house lights were down, Wifey noticed an older Asian couple come in and stand against the wall near us. This show wasn’t nearly as packed as the last show, and there were very few people standing.

 

Wifey looks over to them and gets their attention, and waves them over to sit with us. The curved bench is pretty long, so we could fit a couple more adults if we squeeze in. Wifey instructs the two girls to stand up and the adults scoot closer together to make enough room on the end of the bench. The elderly couple is grateful, and the woman smiles as she mouths something, but I don’t hear what she says. I assume it’s, “Thank you”.

 

 

The show continues, and we all get a few good laughs. I occasionally look over at the girls, and although they’re paying attention to the dialogue, they don’t seem to understand most of it, but they smile and laugh at what they believe to be “the funny parts”.

 

At the end of the show, the lights come up and most of the crowd disperses quickly. There’s a window of about 20 minutes between the end of our Steve White show, and the beginning of Eddie Capone’s “Adults Only” show at 9:45PM. Wifey says that she needs to go to the restroom, so we stay seated in the comedy club to wait for her.

[ShakyBeef]

Yes, and it didn't help that I would sit right next to her on the couch (with our respective laptops) laughing as I posted on the same thread that she was posting on. My hysterical laughing helped her figure it out.

 

Yep, that's pretty much what did it. He was cracking himself up so bad while posting stuff that was freaking my roll call mates out, that I didn't exactly have to be Sherlock Holmes to catch on to him.

[ShakyBeef]

Actually, after that last Sunset photo, I think you are Don Ho and you actually took it in Hawaii. And if you don't know who Don Ho is, I am definitely dating myself!

 

 

You did it! You've discovered DH's secret identity that we've tried so hard to protect. He's Don Ho. No, not that Don Ho.

 

This Don Ho:

 

 

Bet you weren't expecting that, were you?

 

I hope you're proud of yourself. Now we're gonna have to go into hiding again.:cool:

[ShakyBeef]

Wifey says that she needs to go to the restroom, so we stay seated in the comedy club to wait for her.

 

Isn't that a lovely place to end it? Now we all get to keep hanging, waiting for his next installment, with that charming mental image left on the screen like the frozen scene of a movie when you press the pause button on the DVD player. Enjoy.

[bragstarr]

Thank you so much for the link to THAT Don Ho. He was sort of cute, but the longest intro I have ever heard to a song, and then way overblown. He really was impressed with himself. I do appreciate it, however, because I have now wasted 15 minutes watching videos that that one suggested...

 

Besides, THAT Don Ho was Vietnamese, Delta is Cambodian, and the other Don Ho is Hawaiian. I can tell the difference!:p

[ShakyBeef]

Thank you so much for the link to THAT Don Ho. He was sort of cute, but the longest intro I have ever heard to a song, and then way overblown. He really was impressed with himself. I do appreciate it, however, because I have now wasted 15 minutes watching videos that that one suggested...

 

Besides, THAT Don Ho was Vietnamese, Delta is Cambodian, and the other Don Ho is Hawaiian. I can tell the difference!:p

 

I assure you, Delta Hotel is Vietnamese.:cool: In the racial/ethnic sense, he is 100% Vietnamese. But he was born here, in the U.S., to parents that had escaped the fall of Saigon in 1975, and had become American citizens. So he is 100% American, of course. That Cambodian reference he made in today's post was slightly random.

 

You see, that's what made the Don Ho link too perfect!:D:p So glad you enjoyed the Vietnamese pop-crooner music. Always glad to be of service.:):cool:

Edited August 15, 2011 by ShakyBeef
don ho, not do ho :P

[pe4all]

 

Oh? No… no, she didn’t actually knock some kid in the face with the car door. That was just an example of something that could happen, not something that did happen. And if this little scenario did happen, it’s much more likely to involve me instead of Wifey, and the kid’s more likely to be a teenage boy, and his mouth would most likely be at car-door height because his pants were too loose and fell around his ankles causing him to trip and fall near my car, and he wouldn’t see my car door coming at his face because his girly-stupid hair style is swept across his eyes which renders him legally blind in 38 states. But like I said, none of this ever happened.

 

This is one of the funniest passages yet! LOL as I am reading this. :D