Introduction

The cruise starts in Puerto Rico, going on consecutive days to the islands of St. Thomas, St. Maarten, and St. Croix.

This meeting is mandatory.

Much of the activity leading up to this cruise is marred by poor organization, mis- and disinformation, and general mischief that seems designed to make the experience as unpleasant as possible. Example: particular luggage tags are supposedly required in order to get your stuff from the airport in Puerto Rico to the ship. These became available Tuesday (I was at a conference in San Diego that day) at 1:25 and were gone by 1:50. Thus, even if I wanted to bring a suit, I couldn't. However, there are many high points of the cruise itself.

As the astute will already know, cruise-ship travel is not for everyone. I volunteer early to stay home and work, but such non-team-player thinking, while not actually reprimanded, is discouraged. The company will pay for a guest's cruise, but we must pay their airfare. I plan to take Terrie along, and reply immediately to the email requesting guest info. The original email promises more info to follow within a week or so, but as it happens, the woman to whom I replied got an email virus and didn't bother to tell us, so I never get this additional info. Eventually, feeling antsy, I finally call the travel agent to get information on specific dates so I can book Terrie's flight. After finding the cost, and much brow-beating and gnashing of teeth, we decide that the money is better saved for our wedding plans in April. If we'd gotten information earlier, the flight might have been a little less expensive, and maybe Terrie could have come along.

So, I'm booked alone on a romantic Caribbean cruise.

On the Friday before departure, I'm almost certain I will find some way to miss the boat and stay home, and I am fully prepared to accept termination as a consequence. But as the weekend progresses, I decide to go along and make the best of it.

I catch the plane to Newark at 9:30pm pst on Sunday evening. I find the plane full - all of my flights will be full - reportedly 56 OinkiCorp people are on the flight. I don't know most of them, but many have OinkiCorp logos on their clothing or carry-on bags. OinkiCorp's main office is in Redwood City, CA; others are in Chicago and Portland OR; my office is in Petaluma. I will have the same row-mates, for better or worse, on both flights out and both flights back. As it turns out, my immediate seat-mates are congenial enough, polite, and not given to too much chattiness.

I am unable to sleep on either flight, except for maybe 30 minutes of fitful intermittent dozing. I watch the movie without sound.

In Newark, I manage to get to a smoking area during the 2-hour layover, and also have a decent breakfast with my fellow writer Garrie and his wife who are on the same flights.

At the airport in San Juan, Puerto Rico, we find our bags, are herded onto a bus, and drive through typical crappy port-city scenery. The Nordic Empress sits pretty and white, some 10 storeys tall, the very picture, outwardly anyway, of jet-setter ostentation. In relatively painless but time-consuming fashion, we hand over papers and are allowed onto the ship. We are each given a blue "charge-plus" card for use on the ship, with a $150 balance, after supplying our own credit cards for additional expenses.

I find my cabin, which is on the 4th level near the stern, sized between the bathroom and kitchen at home, with no windows. I clean up in the tiny shower, and find a place where I'll be spending a great deal of my time - smoking area, 6th level stern.