Saturday night
This “Icon of the Seas” really rocks.
As in those Tilt-a-Whirls you went on as a kid rocked.
Where you’d turn green as Shrek before throwing up your caramel apple.
But also, it rocks figuratively, as in …when was the last time I did not bitch and moan on the first day of vacation blogging?
This place is too great to criticize because it absolutely ROCKS!
Oh sure, there were some snags.
There was the Bostonian who wasn’t, who called me Caroline, whom I’m not.
There was the charging station that died only on my side of the bed, and even though Jim’s cord stretched, I have too many nightmares about accidental middle of the night strangulation already.
The safe didn’t work initially and the luggage didn’t come.
( ok.. so maybe I AM complaining like I always do on day one. Bear with me)
“Hector stole our luggage!” I cried, when said luggage was missing in action all that time.
“He wasn’t wearing a name tag..why are you calling him that?”
“ Because this is Florida!” I insist, the land of Mickey Ears and MAGA hats, of banned books and porters named Hector who forget to wear name tags!”
“ He didn’t kidnap our luggage, Karen. He’s not interested in your granny panties.”
I was in the mood to argue some more, but our bags showed up and I unpacked at
such a warped speed that I have no idea where anything is.
So I might as well be living off the useless contents of my carry on.
We boarded the ship on time and went to an area known as Central Park, complete with trees and the sounds of chirping birds, where when you were drizzled upon from an open atrium, you hoped that only rain came tumbling down on your unprotected head.
Well.. there WAS one exception, where we hoped it HAD been bird droppings that landed on the head of a passenger wearing a “ Long Live Trump”T-shirt.
Night life is so much fun and totally endless on this iconic ship.
Jim went to the kickoff party solo as I sit in this stateroom, recapping our first day of vacation, wondering why anyone feels the need to deny a New Hampshire residence.
We had played a Motown music game that we deserved to lose by failing to recognize Donna Summer, which was followed by a talented but kinda pervy juggler who kept instructing a mom from Kansas on how to squeeze and flatten his balls.
Okay, so maybe the auditorium didn’t hold as many kids as it will next week, during Christmas break, but these double entendres went over there wee little heads like flying juggled sugar plums.
Dinner was outstanding and the service was that which only a Kardashian might demand.
The best part of the night were the “Dueling Pianists “ who were as gifted as anyone we’ve ever seen at The Front Porch in Ogunquit Maine.
I think I’ve mentioned before that I have a record breaking passion for piano bars.
In fact, the guy pianist has played at that very popular piano bar in Maine quite often, and has set a Guinness record for playing more tunes than any ivory tickler from around the world.
Hah! And I bet you all thought Arnold Palmer was the world’s biggest pianist!
The entire room was filled with joy and tone deaf singers, but the atmosphere was amazing and the fever contagious.
I couldn’t help but compare them to the father/ daughter ( aka husband/wife) team we saw last April on a river cruise.
These people probably never left their native Idaho, which is why they were visibly shocked when “someone” (possibly named Caroline ) prequested songs from “ Hairspray “
I’m betting these dueling pianists here on this ship not only know songs from that Tony winning show, they’ve probably encouraged obese mamas to shake their booty and sing along.
Welcome to the City!
I’ll be back with more tomorrow .
There’s something so satisfying about satisfaction.
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