Evening
Ok, forget everything I complained about earlier.
It’s simply arrival day jitters and I’m a negative Nelly and an ungrateful bitch.
I say to Jim, “ I need a bathroom stool” ( oh, stop it you pervs.. leave the jokes to me) and a staffer overheard me, asks for my room number, and promises to run into town since we’ve docked and purchase my very own step stool.
She then went on to explain that this is not American Cruise Lines fault.. they usually build luxury suites but bought this one from a defunct company that probably catered to youth hostels, or to steerage passengers who say things like, “ these third class accommodations are the best I’ve seen maam.. hardly any rats.”
This company, American, would never deliberately build rooms the size of my poodle’s cage for passengers with oxygen tanks.
My step stool hasn’t arrived yet but I did get a delicious root beer float, handed to me in the lounge with a sincere smile and a dollop of whipped cream.
Our dinner was filling so the root beer float was just icing on the cake.
We arrive at the dining room at six thirty, an hour after it opened, and all the diners were on their second dessert, because a five thirty dinner is a late midnight buffet in their early bird special eyes.
I was served room temperature pot roast but didn’t complain because I didn’t want the server to get in trouble. If I were her, I too, would have served the one plate of lukewarm meat to someone like me who’d just shut up and eat it.
We’re lying on a very comfy bed in a tight room now as I type and Jim wonders how he’s going to be able to eventually fall asleep because of all the coughing and loud speaking from our neighbors.
“ let’s pretend to make a porno and see how they like being kept up by all the noise” he says, and I respond, “let’s actually make a porno!”
But nah.. Typhoid Mary is still going to be louder.
I’m all set to describe the nightmare I’m going to have in about an hour. It involves becoming Mt. Saint Helen’s in human form.
What… you don’t think you’d erupt in a bathroom like this??
Think airplane bathrooms but with a child’s seat and less counter space around the sink.
Also, the river can be rocky and even though we’re docked for the night, I’m afraid the large painting above the bed will come crashing down.
They have money for knockoff art but not bathroom stools???
Go figure.
Anyway.
Even though the entertainment lounge isn’t elegant and beautifully furnished like the one from our Mississippi cruise was, the entertainment was top notch and the entire Pacific Northwest cruising experience was redeemed.
We first heard yet another anecdote about Lewis and Clark which captivated history buff Jim, but I’m more interested in celebrity gossip and pop culture so the Clark better be Marcia and the Lewis better be the late Richard.
Tonight’s main attraction was a hilarious and super talented singing cowboy named Kevin Neill who kept everyone on their arthritic toes.
He’d say things like, “I’m selling my T-shirts after the show!” and then giggle and say, “ a three pack from Haines “
He’d even stimulate the aging wit of the crowd, asking us to name the most famous country singer of all time and someone yells out, “Beyoncé!”
And the crowd breaks into infectious laughter, canes waving in the air,before playing some audience participation games.
( the answer is Willie Nelson who hails from nearby Vancouver Washington)
Root beer floats!
An excursion to Mt Saint Helens tomorrow!
A possible bathroom lift!
Yep.. things are looking up.
If we could only shut up the coughing phlegmy night owls from next door…
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