Thursday, December 3, 2009

We Be Crammin'

"Cruisin” was something we used to do around McDonald’s or maybe Krystal over in Warner Robins. “Not, anymore” as my wife likes to say. “Cruisin” has now embarked on a major eating/drinking tour of the islands or some other destination where the water is blue and you might be too, if you insist on eating your way south.
Eye fatigue set in early from watching folks chew. I now understand why a restaurant waiter might consider taking his/her own life. Have you ever watched cows over in “dairy country” (Putnam County)? Now you’ve got the picture.
My wife and I cruised last week on the “We Be Crammin’” (Marley) cruise line, and found ourselves bloated and in a country where everyone rides a scooter, speaks a different language, and either wears the same helmet or is related. I saw the same guy 20 times or 20 different guys carrying somebody’s wife and two kids on a Vespa scooter. He looked like a balancing act from the old Ed Sullivan show.
Upon embarkation (ship talk for leaving) I had to, of course, call mom and tell her all about the Dramamine. She laughed her head off, “Are you kidding, you won’t even know you’re moving!” Well, we were either moving or the passengers were having a Mai Tai moment.
The staggering continued throughout the cruise as many of the men went into their second trimester of “pregnancy” on board the good ship “Buffet,” courtesy of the “all you can eat ‘free’ food.”
Passengers were allowed to major in whatever their favorite food group happened to be, so I chose butter. I put it on everything but the ice cream. There were 40 year olds who majored in ice cream, but they had to wait in line. The butter was always available. No waiting.
We hit the sun deck early the next morning on what the “Buffet” calls “augmentation/line dance day” and I got to see some really interesting breast implants and tattoos doing the electric slide. The “blue card” they give you will buy anything on the ship, but I doubt those were on the menu.
After two days of eating/drinking and line dancing to burn it all off, we arrived on the island to the sound of mariachi bands and people with lots of clothes for sale.
Most of the folks on the ship had gone from one size to one size fits all and the dressing rooms were full of those trying to fit into the size they had before we embarked.
Tears followed, but the natives encouraged us to drown our sorrows in Tequila. Tequila gives me heartburn so I stayed depressed on day three.
Day four it’s back on the boat for more line dancing and karaoke. No one cares anymore so karaoke is a big hit. Most of the participants are wearing spandex tops and bottoms. The colors are magnificent. On the evening of day four and still hundreds of miles from port, cruising at 15 knots, my wife says, “I think I’ve had enough Diet Coke.” “Uh,” says I. “Did you bring any Rolaids?” Are we moving yet? How far are the bathrooms? Who finished my last drink? Where’s me spandex shorts be?
Will we go again? Of course. We saw some things and met some folks that made us feel really great. Like the mom spanking her mouthy 14 year old; the double lung transplant from Puerto Rico, on a trip she cherished with her relatives; the newlyweds who couldn’t wait to find their stateroom; the ruins (which are actually just that — ruined) and too much to tell here.
Who knows, we be Crammin’ to Hawaii one o’ des days, hopefully on de good ship “Buffet.”