Great Vacation Getaway – Day 2

It didn’t last. 

Sometime during the night, the sea became angry, and much like the Minnow our ship found itself tossed.  By morning, everything in our room had moved around some, and the bottles of Vodka in the fridge were clanking and clattering like there was no tomorrow.

Argh!

Tired, queasy, and somewhat discontented we awoke and headed off to begin our exciting day.  Or at least, a day that we hoped would be exciting.  What would it hold for us?

After some wandering about we ended up in the breakfast nook, a delightful area where they had all sorts of stuff out to eat.  Since it’s a cruise, there is a lot more on offer than you should ever even think about eating, but we dug in nonetheless.  We didn’t have quite the luck that we’d experienced earlier in the day, and ended up eating away from the window, but it was a good breakfast anyways.

Just as we finished, Angela poked me.  “Hey, look who it is!”

Sure enough, here came Mr. Grumpy, his miserable kindred trailing along behind him, like Snow White leading the Seven Dwarves to the gallows.  They were too far away to hear (thankfully), but the whole lot of them looked decidedly unhappy to be going about whatever they were doing.

“It’s like Where’s Waldo,” I said.  “Only a lot more unhappier.”

For the rest of the day we made that our game: Spot the Grump.

After breakfast the ship was pitching and heaving, so in order to kill time we indulged ourselves in the fine shipboard sport, Shuffleboard.  And thanks to the crashing and tossing of the ship, Angela just barely eked out a victory of 25-0.  I would have scored more, but just when I had all my discs in scoring position a big wave swept them off, plus dropped a crab on my head that pinched me.

Once that was out of the way, it was time for us to go play Bingo.  Like a dutiful husband, I bought the “couples fun” package that included 7 scratch-off lottery tickets, 9 cards, and a T-shirt. 

Angela and I each opened one of the lottery tickets waiting for Bingo to start.

“I won a dollar!” she said happily.

“I got a rock.”

“I won another dollar!”

“I got another rock,” I said.

“Wow!  I won five bucks!”

“Nothing but lemons in mine,” I said.

“I won another buck!” She said.  “That’s eight bucks!”

“I won nothing,” I said.  “Plus this card is making fun of me.”

Eight dollars richer, we began Bingo.  How did we do?  Well, when it was over, we were still only up $8.

“What do you want to do now?” she asked once we’d cashed out her winnings from the shipboard casino.

“I saw a game show,” I said.  “It’s Let’s Make a Deal.  Why don’t we go check it out?”

Up we ran, to participate in this game.  Only it’s not really like you imagine it.  It’s totally different.  It’s really more of a scavenger hunt, where we had to make teams and then bring in items to score points.  We were on Team 5, and quickly I’d forged an alliance with two other couples who looked like they’d be useful in the upcoming battle.

Let me say: one of the dudes, not so much.  He was about as useful as an anchor.  His wife, though, was another story.  She was in it to win it!  Thanks to our quick thinking and fast feet, we managed to come in second.

What did we win, you ask?  Five signatures on our “activity card.”  Until that exact moment, none of us even knew such a thing existed.

“Let’s go bowling,” I said.  “On those super-special hydro-lanes that they have here.  They resist the pitch and swell of the ship!  It’ll be great!”

When we arrived at the bowling lanes, madness reigned.  There were four lanes, see, all of which were full.  Two of them had the biggest, loudest, shriekingest family every, about 9 children and two very frazzled-looking parents.  Milling around in front of the thing were this group of people, and the guy in charge was running around.

His relief arrived at the same time as us and started trying to sort it out.

“Who’s next?” she asked.

“Some people,” he said.  “They’re somewhere.”

“What are their names?” she asked.

“I don’t know the names,” he said.  “I didn’t ask them.”

This carried on for about five more minutes, like an Abbott and Costello routine done by a particularly dumb person.  Apparently he’d promised the lane, but didn’t know to who.

“These children aren’t with me!” the mother in the crazy lane shrieked.  It was weird – if they weren’t with her, why were they all over her?  It was bizarre.

Finally some order was restored, and we ended up on a list. 

“Wanna play some slots while we wait?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said.

We each put in a dollar.  I had lost mine in about ten seconds.  Angela, though, was up at $2.45 when I ran out of cash and started ‘helping’ her. 

I had her broke soon thereafter.

We wandered around then, stumbling across a Galaga machine.  “Go for it!” I said as I started a game for her.  She’d blew up during the first wave, and I chuckled.

Ten minutes later, she was still playing on her second life.  D’oh!

“Allen?” the lady called.  “Allen?”

“Honey, we gotta go!” I said.  “Our lane is ready!”

“Go ahead,” she said.  “I have to save the universe from destruction!”

So I went, and rented shoes, and signed a waiver, and whatnot.

“Come on,” I said when I got back over to Galaga.  “You gotta go sign a waiver!”

“Okay,” she gave me the game.  “Just be careful.”

BOOM!  I was dead almost immediately.  Really sad. 

At bowling, I dominated, throwing almost 140.  Not great, but not bad at all, particularly since the pitching and heaving of the ship threw my game off.  Angela didn’t do too bad, either, and if we’d had another few games we’d have been up to our usuals.

Just as we were about to leave, who did we spot?

If you guessed “Mr. Grumpy” give yourself five points.  Ding ding!  He still looked grumpy, too, just for the record.

We had lunch in there, too, by the way, but it was nothing special.

Then it was time for afternoon Bingo.  I think I understand the draw of Bingo: it’s like horse racing without the cruelty to animals, and old people can do it without having to exert any physical effort at all and yet still be competitive.

We found ourselves sitting next to the Aussie ladies we’d been near that morning, and so the five of us chatted and laughed our way through the Bingo games.  Particularly at the little old lady who was the first Bingo.  They had you standing up when you were one number away, and she was the first one to stand up.

“What latter do you need?” the proctor asked.

“I ain’t telling you!” she bawled.

Somebody else stood up after the next letter.

“What letter do you need?” he asked.

“DON’T TELL HIM!” the old lady yelled.  “IT’LL JINX YOU!”

When she finally did get Bingo, she was happy, although I found that her dancing left something to be desired. 

Once again, by the way, Angela won $4 on scratch-off lottery cards.  And one of the Aussie ladies won the biggest jackpot of the day.  I won diddly.  And squat.

For Dinner, we had lots of choices about where to eat, so we of course chose The Summer Palace.  And yes, when you say its name, you have to speak in italics.  Because it’s just that kind of place.  While we were waiting in line, we saw a dude get ejected for wearing shorts.

“Uh oh,” I said.  “I better run and change.”

“Let’s just eat somewhere else,” Angela said.  “This place looks too froo-froo anyways.”

“Naw,” I said.  “I want to eat here.  I want to eat at every comp restaurant on the boat!”

So I ran off.  I rode in the elevator with the dude who got ejected, who complained and moaned and whined all the way up to the 11^th deck about how unfair it was that he couldn’t eat there in shorts.

Then I ran back down to the restaurant to find Angela waiting inside.

“What do you think?” I asked.

“This all looks terrible,” she said.  “I can’t eat any of this.”

“No, see, there’s chicken in there.  Chicken!  You like chicken. Cluck cluck!”

“What would you like?” the waiter asks.

“I guess I’ll take the chicken,” Angela says.

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else,” she says.  “Just the chicken.”

“And for you sir?”

“I’ll take the pork spring rolls, the special of the day, and the bread pudding.  Oh, and a glass of wine.”

After he’s gone, she looks at me.  “Do you even know what the special of the day is?”

“No,” I said.  “That’s what makes it so special.”

“It was crab and salmon cakes.  If I remember, you don’t like crab.”

“Oh,” I said.  “Oh, dear.”

After a long time (and my starter of pork spring rolls, which were tasty), the food finally comes.  I was relieved to see that the special was apparently tasty Salmon, which I began wolfing down.  I had about half of it down when Angela says this:

“What the heck are shrimp doing on my plate?”

I looked up, pieces of salmon running down my chin, to see that she’s received some kind of crud-coated chicken thing on a bed of rice with shrimp and a very strange vegetable.  Having thoroughly reviewed the menu before deciding to take my chances on the special, I knew exactly what she had.

“That’s the Thai Chicken,” I said.  “With coconut shrimp.  You should try some.”

“I don’t want to try some,” she said.  “I didn’t even want to eat here.”

“Just push the shrimp off to the side,” I said.  “I’ll give them a good home.”

“Did you get the Thai Chicken?” the nice old lady at the table next to us asked.  “Because that’s what I ordered, but I got this instead.”

“See!” I said.  “That looks really tasty.  You would have enjoyed that.”

“I ordered the Cod,” the guy with the old lady said.  “This isn’t the cod.” 

He had what looked like a burned-out hockey puck on his place. 

Suddenly the waiter arrived.  “Oh, I am very sorry, there has been a terrible mistake!  I will fix this right away!”

He bustled around and took the old people’s plates, and replaced them with something else.  Then he took Angela’s plate away, promised to bring her food to her, and promptly vanished.

I, however, got to keep my Salmon.  I don’t know if it was because I was half done with it, or that I had smeared it all over my face, or that I stabbed him with the fork, but whatever it was, I got to finish the salmon.

After a very long delay, he returned with the Rosemary Chicken, which to me looked very much like boiled chicken.  But Angela said it was okay.  And then, a few seconds later, with great fanfare he placed a burned-out hockey puck in front of me.

“Your dinner, sir!”

“I already ate dinner,” I said.

“No, that was wrong.  This is what you ordered.”

“Oh,” I said.  “What is it?”

“Crab and salmon cake, sir.”

“Oh,” I said.  “Why is it on mashed potatoes?  Does the chef hate me?”

He just left.  And you know what?  I think the chef did hate me, because that was pretty gross.  On the upside, though, the outer coat of the hockey puck was definitely burned.  So it had that going for it.

As we were eating, Angela nudges me.  “Hey, look,” she says.  “It’s Mr. Grumpy!”

Sure enough, there he is, stumping his grumpy way through the crowd, his family trailing after him.  He’s wearing a red T-Shirt and suspenders and his ball cap and limping along, angrily complaining.  Trailing behind him is his clan, all of them dressed like they’re going to a ball, about 5-6 people in all.  It was the strangest thing.  He must have money, I decided, to be so unhappy and underdressed and yet accompanied by a cast of extras from Cinderella.

Then they got to the stairs, and he began limping up the stairs.  The rest of them went around the stairs and towards the side exit, where the elevators are.

He stopped on the stairs and shook his fist angrily at them.  They mocked him from the ground and left, and he continued on up the stairs alone.

Okay, so not so much money that they want to suck up for an inheritance…

After dinner, I got my dessert, which was pretty good, and which I would have eaten except I had two dinners and a starter plate. 

After dinner, we went to the highlight of our cruise: the Not So Newlywed Game.  Ever since I read about this, I’d been hoping to be on this thing.  And I’d spent the whole dinner grilling Angela on our answers so we’d be as prepared as possible to win: where did we meet?  What’s my biggest flaw?  What was our best vacation?  Are you going to finish that chicken?

I’d also been greasing the skids a little bit to get us picked.  There are these ship hosts, see, who set up games and stuff, and in the Bingo games and the Let’s Make a Deal Scavenger Hunt I’d been buttering them up.  And every time I saw one, I’d pump them for inside information about how to get picked for the Newlywed game.

When the time came, I knew what to do: when they call your anniversary range (like ten to twenty five years) be loud and obnoxious.

It’s the part I was born to play, baby!

Needless to say, nobody is more loud and obnoxious than me, so we got picked, along with a pair of newlyweds and two 35-year married people.  We sat down, and I leaned over to Angela before it began. “Just remember what we talked about!” I hissed.

“Shut up,” she said.  “You owe me.”

I was the first to be sequestered, while Angela and the other wives answered questions.  They got us whatever drink we wanted, so I took the opportunity to get a free beer from the cruise line.  Hoorah!  I might be the only free beer drinker on board!

Well, except the other four husbands.

When they called us back out, we had to answer five questions.  Of the five, I would say that three of them had nothing to do with the stuff Angela and I had talked about, so I was left to guess what to answer.  I got one of those right.

The other two?  Stuff we’d clearly talked about and identified and for which the answer was clear.  So I, of course, totally honked it and got them both wrong. 

You should have seen the look Angela gave me.  “Are you kidding me?” she rolled her eyes.  “That’s the best you can do?”

So then the wives left, and the husbands stayed behind and answered.  Of those five questions, I would say three were ones that we’d discussed.  I knew what answer I should give, and how I should respond.

AND I SCREWED IT UP ANYWAYS!

I mean, really, what is that?  I go all out to get primed up to cheat at this stupid game show, and I screwed it up.  Really?  Idiot!

She came back, and of course answered the two that were guesses easily, and then gave the “correct” prompted answer to the other three, and then got them wrong, and then looked at me like I was the stupidest person on earth.

As a consolation prize, we won two t-shirts and a water bottle.  The big “winner” got a huge bottle of champagne, which is good, because neither of us like champagne. But I think the entire thing was well summed up by Angela:

“I don’t know how you ever got to be a manager, because you fold under pressure.”

“I know,” I said.

“You spent all dinner grilling ME on MY answers, and then you totally screwed up YOURS!”

“I know,” I said.

“How stupid can you be?  You’ve been talking about this for, like, ten days, and then on your big chance, you’re all like ‘duh, I don’t know!’”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said.

“I mean, at breakfast you’re all like ‘best vacation was Italy!  Worst was Egypt!  You don’t have shoes!  I like to eat tuna!’”

“Hey, look, the four seasons!” I said.  “Let’s go listen!”

I dragged her, still mocking me, into the Four Seasons tribute band.  And oh, what a night it was (see what I did there?).  For a tribute band to a group that had their heyday forty years ago, they were surprisingly good.  I was very pleased.  And also surprised at how many of the songs I knew.

Tired, we went to bed after that, and turned in.  The day was a complete success, and a great first day of cruising.  And since the time turned back, we got another hour of sleep in.  Yay!

Well, except for the game show.  How could I honk it that badly?