Guido is back from her cruise. She and two friends departed on a Disney ship last Sunday. This leaves me a few hours to repair the wreckage to the house created by 4 days of bachelorhood surrounded by 7 cats and a dog during a rainy week.
I’ll get to it later. Mostly.
This opportunity came up suddenly, and I insisted she take it. There is no way on earth I will ever set foot in a cruise ship, and it seems like something that anybody so inclined or curious ought to try. So she either takes a shot like this or waits for me to keel over.
Bad choice of words.
Anyway, she had a wonderful time without me, which is no surprise, although as you will be quick to point out, that might have been more the “without me” and less “the cruise.”
My experience with water craft is similar to my interaction with oral surgeons, and about that pleasant. As a child, I was on a 6-hour deep sea fishing boat off Cape May, NJ during which I was helplessly seasick for 5½ of them. I got sick in a motorboat on a creek south of Wilmington, DE. I did okay on a fishing boat off Acapulco one year, but only after spending an hour shitting my insides out — the crew was real happy about that — then getting drunk at 9 am for the rest of the tournament.
But the best story concerns my experience on a gorgeous, brand-new 65 foot Hatteras luxury yacht I got to walk through during the International Boat Show. Midway down the carpeted hallway in the bedroom area, as lush and polished as a high-end hotel suite, I got lightheaded, dizzy, weak in the knees…..and I felt my stomach coming up into my throat. I got out of there as fast as I could, sweating like a marathoner, gasping for breath.
Here’s the kicker: the boat was parked on the cement floor of the Miami Beach Convention Center, nowhere near the water. Think I have a head problem?
So a cruise is out of the question. Hell, I don’t even take baths.
Welcome home, Guido.