Saturday, December 27, 2014



What the hell does that mean, anyway?  What is a bounding main?  Is that anything like trying to move through crashing white caps?  Thirty foot waves?  Is it really sailing or hydroplaning?

Not to complain, because this has been an awesome cruise, and this is truly outside of the control of the Captain and the bridge crews, but this ship has not stopped bucking like a bronco on speed since we left Port Canaveral.  It's rocking like Jerry Lee Lewis and rolling like Tina Turner.  Our steady speed and careful navigation does not deserve this type of beating, especially since it won't let up.

We've been on a couple of cruises which each had a day or two of serious rocking.  The last time, we were playing rope-a-dope with Hurricane Sandy.  But for some reason, this cruise has been an eight day roller coaster ride despite the complete absence of hurricane conditions.  (Unless you want to count that water spout we all saw on the second day of the cruise, which I don't because it was really off in the distance.) The ship is only level when we are in port.  The rest of the time, it tilts and twists like a particularly limber pole dancer.  Since I am a bona fide klutz who has gotten seasick on more than one occasion, I am constantly tipping one way or another, trying to keep my balance and my dignity.

Which just goes to prove that I made a good judgment call all those years ago when Bethe called to suggest we all go on another cruise together that wasn't on Carnival or Norwegian.  She told me to think about ABC - Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao - on Windjammer.  Very exciting, except Windjammer was practically a sailboat.  Sailing the exotic southern Caribbean in a floating hotel was one thing; attempting that in an oversized canoe was something else.

So then came our second formal night.  Rob and I had decided a while back that we wanted to have a nice picture taken while we were onboard, so I carefully picked the dress, which I had gotten some years ago to wear at a wedding, and took the matching shoes.

These shoes, with the three inch heel and the snappy ankle strap.  Shoes I only wear with that particular dress on special occasions.  Shoes that I can just barely manage to wear for short periods of time under very controlled circumstances.  Pretty shoes for sure, but hardly practical for someone with dinky ankles and the innate ability to tip over while wearing flats. So I never wear heels to work, and the last pair of dress up shoes I bought to wear to my niece Mara's wedding were flats. I still tripped occasionally but at least I didn't have as far to fall.

But just this once, for the picture, I wanted to look really good, and besides, hurricane season was over, right?

I am not sure how we managed to stand upright for the picture-taking.  There were times I felt Rob was going to accidentally push me over because of the relentless motion of the ship.  We were clutching on to each other to keep from falling.  I was certain those photos would come out ghastly, but the photographer turned out to be quite talented and all I can say is not too shabby.

After dinner, all dressed up and feeling pretty, if just a bit unbalanced, we headed to one of the shows.  Walking to the lounge, and maneuvering up and down the stairs was akin to bungee jumping.  If it wasn't for Robert, I'd still be sitting there, unable to move.  And if it wasn't for the motion sickness wristbands I have been wearing constantly, I would be face down on my bed, sick as a dog, missing the whole cruise because I would be passed out from the Bonine.

So it's been interesting.  Good thing I still have a sense of humor.

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