Headed for Dry Land

The End of a Cruise

Take a vacation, we said, head across the ocean with good friends. Feel the sun on your face. Swim with the starfish and stingrays. Drink. Eat. Pool party! Eat. Drink. More white sand. Drink. Eat. Ooh! Swim. Answer some trivia. Eat. Eat. Meet some people. Stay awake until 10:00! Snorkel! Drink some more!

That was in the beginning.

We all break down eventually. Two thousand or so souls on a floating prison/party bus. Around day 8 of 10, things begin to fray. Having pushed ourselves to human limits exacts a toll. Someone’s papa notoriously runs people over with his scooter. In the elevators we talk about how swollen our ankles have become from the ocean, not wanting to cop to the extra salt in the obscene cornucopia of food. If papa’s not around trying to ram us, that is.

What I greeted with a smile has turned to a grimace when I papa-style run into varying sales pitches everywhere I turn. Somewhere in cruise land, the powers that be have taken the beauty of all inclusive and made most things an up charge. It’s like a timeshare pitch as vast as the Caribbean Sea. Or streaming.

Gratuity included has pulled open the curtain and showed us a bitter truth. The workers on board are doing a job and you are enjoying their service. They’ll answer all your questions but they won’t recognize you the next day at the buffet. It is the nature of the beast. And while it’s a shame, and my curiosity is always genuine, it is just as long lasting. 

All of which you only start to notice when you’re getting ready to pack your bathing suit away and go on home to your thermal underwear. I used to think it was only me. Come prepared enough. Pack weeks in advance and read the menus ahead of time. Maybe then I would only wear things once, but now I see it everywhere.

Even the experts who arrive fully equipped with clips to hold towels to deck chairs first thing in the morning have stopped bothering with their hair. Their skin is pealing and they’ve lost their water bottles. A cruise’s lifecycle and the cost of having a good time are both unavoidable. 

So I will make this short, keep it brief as I waddle my way into the final lunch on our last full day at sea. It doesn’t matter to me that I wore this cleanish dress far better on the third night than here on the ninth. Or that it is harboring the scent of a well spent vacation. 

Bonaire

This cruise was the right, guilty pleasure flavored sorbet after a hardy winter meal. I am refreshed, rejuvenated by the spray of the ocean and the making of precious memories. Time to snuggle back in with the dogs and dig my way out of the ice and snow if I must.

I have what I know many don’t get. A home I love, family and fierce friends—both ones I have and ones I am making. 

So here’s to the recovery! May fortune find us all well enough to do it again next year. It had better, Cruise Sales convinced our husbands to put down a deposit.