Last week I went on a cruise I planned over a year ago. I hated the one I was on as a teen but that was a million years ago and besides, I wasn't with my BFF then. This would be a whole different experience, I thought.
Oh, how I thought wrong.
Some mildly horrifying cruise ship facts:
- It costs almost a billion dollars to build a modern cruise ship.
- The ship uses about a gallon a second of fuel. (Their calculations, not mine.)
- On board, there are (for a one-week journey): 1,500 gallons of ice cream; 55,000 lbs of fresh fruit; 49,000 lbs veggies; 18,000 lbs potatoes; and 70,000 bottles beer.
- It is possible to read a 300-page novel in one day (if you do nothing but read and eat)
Day 1:
Any self-consciousness I had about my body is COMPLETELY gone. Everyone on this cruise is fat as fuck. And I will be too in 7 days, seeing the delicious, never-ending buffet.
I hate everything. How did I not realize that a cruise is like a giant obnoxious steel jellyfish with 4,000 human tentacles insufferably stinging their way through the ocean? I'm never doing this again.
I realize there are no noise ordinances in the middle of the sea, but MUST it be this loud? Seriously. Witness:
Obnoxious dance music is blaring from every deck. It is absolutely inescapable. Every hour, there's an announcement about bingo or the napkin-folding class. People do not know how to entertain themselves unless surrounded by a cacophony. Or fed bullshit manufactured recreation.
I read a 300 page novel in one day and it was the only reason I haven't jumped overboard yet.
I'm so fucking miserable.
Day 4:
Lady in hall was queasy, I have a headache that won't go away and the people next door have been flushing their toilet notstop for the last hour. Norovirus? I'm doomed.
Day 5:
Level of loathing has reached a new high. I've decided my main goal for this trip, in order to make the suffering worthwhile, is to save myself $7 on a bottle of self-tanning lotion so I won't have to wear pantyhose when I go back to work. So I have acquiesced to a deck chair.
However there is no place on this stupid ship where I can be alone. Hateful dance music is blaring from every crevice, causing a line of numbed and sweaty folk to sway dully and sip margaritas across the entire length of this 1,000 foot vessel. I have lost faith in humanity.
Day 6:
I'm ready to jump. Where are we? I don't give a shit what port this is, I'm not leaving the cabin. It's the only quiet place on the ship. The omniscient presence of people has reached absolutely unbearable levels.
I can't get a glass of water in the stupid cafeteria without someone pushing into me from behind. I can't walk to the elevator without oblivious forms darting into my path. No one is paying attention to anyone else because no one has had a deep thought for more than six days. The entire ship is bursting with hedonism. No one gives a shit about anyone but themselves.
The only people I want to be near (as long as I don't have to talk to them) are the recluses like me. At least the antisocial guy hulking over a book at the next table has a philosophical teeshirt.
Day 7:
Land! Thank GOD the ordeal is over. I need to spend a month on top of a mountain away from civilization. I hate everything and everybody. The only silver lining is that I can go back to work right away because I never got norovirus.
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| My idea of a good time now. |
