Daisy Bateman


Or, Guess What? I’m a Moron!

So, Daisy and Megan’s Cruise Adventure is now officially underway. Actually, it was underway yesterday, but I didn’t get around to blogging until now. Wireless internet is available, but expensive. We are on a boat, after all.
Sailing out under the Golden Gate yesterday was undeniable cool. Also windy. I took many, many pictures, which I will post after I get back because of the aforementioned expense of internet time. I’m not going to waste it on uploading.
San Francisco hasn’t been a cruise port for very long, and the operation is a lot less slick than in Long Beach or Miami. Processing of the passengers happens in a (barely) converted warehouse, with carpet taped to the floor and temporary walls that stop about fifty feet from the ceiling. I like it.
After we got on and had some lunch, we set out and explored the ship. It has thirteen decks, numbered 1-14 (triskadecaphobia strikes again!) and more bars than you can shake an overpriced souvenir shot glass at. There are three restaurants: the dining room, the casual buffet and a pizza place, plus a casino, a movie theater, a regular theater and various lounges. The atrium is kind of a small one, as mega-ship atria go, only three floors and hardly anything in the way of ugly public art. In general, the décor is pleasantly untacky, with a kind of art deco vibe in a lot of brushed steel and wood.
As part of our tour, we made our way down to the spa, located on the lowest floor accessible to the public (I suspect it was added in haste once spas became necessary things to have on cruise ships). They were promoting their services, so one lady rubbed warm stones on our shoulders and talked about lining up our chakras, then another tried to convince us that it would be a good idea to let her smear us with hot seaweed paste and then wrap us in tinfoil for half an hour. We were not convinced.
I did, however, notice the exercise room, which does have treadmills, which I had better use if I want to be able to fit through the door when I get home.
The food hasn’t been completely fabulous, but that hasn’t prevented me from eating a whole lot of it. Dinner last night was shrimp cocktail, mushroom soup, a seafood turnover in cream sauce and chocolate cake. (The menu claimed the cake was flourless, but I don’t think it was. It was suspiciously un-dense.) The other people at our table (at least the ones who showed up; we were short a couple) seemed nice enough, if old. Pretty much everyone here is old, except for the ones who are young. As far as I can tell, the only people on the boat who are our age are wearing nametags and serving drinks.

Anyway, about the moron thing. So, last night I’m taking out my contacts. And I put them into my little contact case with the screw-on lids, and I start to screw on the lids, and I notice little blue fragments coming out of the side of the right compartment. The death of a smurf? Sadly, no. I had just destroyed my right contact lens. It’s a really good thing I brought my glasses, otherwise I’d be spending the rest of the trip blind in one eye.
Like I said: moron.

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