Monday, November 13, 2000

En route from San Juan, Puerto Rico to St. Thomas

At home it's 11am; here, it's 3pm. I've been awake 25 hours.

Among papers left on my bed, a schedule of guided shore excursions, for which it is suggested we sign up as early as possible. It's confusing, with the different start times, durations, and costs, and the apparent likelihood that you'll be stuck with the second or third choice you write in. At this point, I'm not sure if these excursions are my only opportunity to go ashore, so I make a feeble attempt at organizing my entire week and my budget around excursions I might want to take. I can afford the excursions (Wednesday is payday); some look pretty cool: thew submarine and helicopter tours; lots of snorkeling and historical/natural tours.

Excursions I considered:

Ultimately, I do not sign up for any excursions - good thing, considering the whacked time schedule that lies ahead for my poor jet-lagged self.

"Opulent" is the word, I suppose, for the public areas I have seen. The ship has two main dining areas, a casino, and four or five (or six or seven) themed bars. The central area contains a four- or five-storey atrium, with a white grand piano at bottom that plays soft-rock and pop classics nonstop, glass elevators that overlook the atrium, and much presumably non-faux brass and marble.

I'm really annoyed by, and resentful of, much of this. Trapped, basically, on what certainly appears to be a money-sink in the third world. I'm open to a change of heart, though, if they'll just get me to a peaceful beach or two.

300 OinkiCorp people are on the ship - not sure if this includes only employees or employees plus guests, but figure OinkiCorp paid well over a half a mill to get us all here and back. Though note that Royal Caribbean is a OinkiCorp customer, so they may have gotten a deal.

 The "Centrum" (that's "Center" for you poor folk)

Hungry and tired, I think I'll try to find a meal, but "tired" beats "hungry" and I nap.

8:24pm

I sleep like a log, and awake with more bark than bite. Read more of the hefty "Story of Civilization: Our Oriental Heritage" - this trip carries with it the ironic backdrop of Durant's wry commentary on the Sumerian and Egyptian civilizations vis-a-vis our own "advanced" one, so excuse me if I compare tuxedos to loincloths in the context of 90-degree weather and 80 percent humidity, somewhere ahead...

We pass muster: a drill where we don life vests and assemble at our designated lifeboats. My boat is #13.

Dining is free, certain drinks (e.g., cola) not. The buffet is decent at the "Windjammer Cafe" on the 10th floor top deck. (Let us note for the record here that the "Windjammer" may not be named randomly for a picturesque ersatz sea-motif, but may actually be descriptive of the bilious effect of the buffet food.) Here too is a small pool and one or two glorified hot tubs, a bar, and strolling waiters offering strawberry coladas in tall glasses, non-stop Caribbean music (and if I hear "Stir it Up" again within two years, it'll be too soon).

The boat will leave shortly for St. Thomas, roughly 100 miles east, to arrive at 7am tomorrow. I need to find toothpaste, and more food.

I hate to be a downer about this, but it's a forced "vacation" I would not choose on my own, preferring as I do solitude and being "in" the scenery. I don't hold anything against my cow orkers, but do not want to hang out and "bond" with ones not of my choosing, nor do I want to wait in line with them for Bingo, Karaoke, or disco dancing. I was very close, many times, to flaking on this cruise, but ultimately decided not to let it beat me. I will find my own fun, or at worst spend a few quiet days here in the hole.

I walk around the decks, watching San Juan recede, with a $6 strawberry colada in hand. The waning full moon slides behind a thin mass of (I'm guessing stratus) clouds, making a nice moon-bow and a wide swath of moonglow on the ocean to starboard. Couples are out in force, and scattered lonely hearts such as myself. No eye contact, especially not with single women - that's just too depressing, accompanied by memories of hundreds of times I've been single and lonely, or for that matter single and wanting to be alone. I'd love to talk, but I know they'd want to go less far, or farther, than I do, in terms of distance between us.

This evening would be pretty great if T was here. As it is, it sucks.

In the room, there's wine in a bucket of ice, fruit in a basket, bottled water. Nothing says "Compliments of..." or bears a price tag, so I'm not touching 'em.

The crew is very good - better than at most hotels. And, uh, they should be.

They really kinda push the booze - the ship and OinkiCorp - something I don't need. There's a token "Friends of Bill W." meeting waaaay down at the bottom of the list of tomorrow's available activities.

Wondering, if I manage to find a beach tomorrow, how I can swim without having all my stuff stolen ashore...

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