Ship's Log, Day 1
Thursday, Aug. 31, 2006We were four hours on the Party Bus to Galveston drinking mimosas with a guy named Tim who promised to "take care of us." Sissy brought seasickness wristbands to keep us from getting sick. They're little black bands for each wrist with a white bump in the middle for an accupressure point on the inner wrist. I took mine off the first night, but she's still wearing hers.
We got leis'd as we got off the bus, then we were herded through the checkin/boarding process. I watched very closely, reader, and I did not see a single pirate among the passengers. Only redneck families with children, couples in love (aww!!) and juvenile college guys wearing bachelor party tee shirts.
After learning how to work our life preservers, we were all set to party. Bring me that horizon. Sissy went off to find a dancefloor and I went off to discover that the "hot tub" is really more of a "bubbly water tub." I long for warmth, please, some warm place to submerge myself. Inside, the ship is as cold as a meat locker. Out on deck at night, the air is crisp to my delicate skin. I'd give anything for a parka.
What kind of an idiot goes on a cruise and forgets to pack condoms?!? Oh well, it would appear that the ship is filled with people I wouldn't shag anyway, so it's just as well I have no condoms. It would be depressing if I'd packed them and then brought them home unused.
At dinner, we were assigned seats. Sissy, myself, and four other women looked around dubiously at each other before one of them called a waiter over to ask "Why am I seated at the wallflower table?" The waiter, I think his name was Julio, did not appear to speak English. He said "Yes, ma'am," and walked away. It all made more sense when George, the president of the group we're with, came to take his seat at our table. I assume he made the seating assignments since he's the only man lucky enough to be assigned to a table with six women and no other men.
When I returned to our cabin after the hot tub, our beds were turned down, with mints on our pillows, and someone built a sculpture of an elephant out of towels on our window sill. Good night. /tess
Ship's Log, Day 2
Friday, Sept. 1, 2006Sometime during the night our ship, the Ecstasy, was boarded by pirates. Stealthy they came, their ship crept up in the night and lay against our cruiser like a malevolent shadow. They must have changed clothes in the Skallywag Lounge, for they were dressed in proper clothes when I first spotted them by the pool. They were cleverly disguised, but you know Tess knows a pirate when she sees one. I ate three lobster tails for dinner. What kind of an animal eats three lobster tails (with butter) at one sitting? Found the hot tub that actually gets hot. Tonight's towel sculpture was a puppy dog. /tess (in Ecstasy...)
Ship's Log, Day 3
Saturday, September 2, 2006
We went aground this morning in Cozumel. Just as we left the ship we hooked up with Tim again, who promised again to "take care of us." Very quickly Sissy disappeared, leaving Tim and I to fight off the natives on our own.
Lots of Mexicans in Cozumel. They kept referring to Tim as my husband. I practiced my Spanish. I said, "Buscando un esposo nuevo, por favor! Un esposo Mexicano!" I think I said it right, for several of the natives responded quite favorably.
We saw some Federalis arresting some woman, or maybe just writing her a ticket or something, I don't know, but I noticed there is something much more sinister and intimidating about the Mexican police. American police are almost comical, with their goofy hats and their mailman uniforms. You see an American cop and you almost just wanna mess with him for fun. Not so the Federalis. In their helmets and riot gear, with their lean bodies and dark malevolent featuers, they do not invite any sort of monkey business or jokes at their expense. I took a picture of the two we saw, and Tim cautioned me, "They don't like it when you do that." He jerked his head in a frantic "follow me, come on, come on" gesture and grabbed my hand.
I ignored him and waited for the pirate policeman to arrest me. He came near, looking down from his intimidating height, his boots tapping on the sidewalk. His face was unreadable, his Latino features set firm in disapproval. With a gentle yet forceful hand on my chest, he backed me to the wall and leaned in close to whisper something in Spanish that I could not understand.
"Give me your hands," he said and I held them out weakly, unsure what I hoped he would do with them. My adrenaline rush made it hard to hear him or to focus my eyes on his sinister gaze. The blood beat steady in my ears. Taking my wrists together in one strong hand, he yanked my arms above my head, causing me to drop my camera.
"Hey!" I said, before being twirled smoothly around in an instant to find my face and chest against the wall, my hands now pinned behind my back. He leaned in against me, whispering again in Spanish, and shoved his knee betwwn my thighs. I felt him strong and hard against my ass and wondered if that was himself or his weapon I felt there.
Okay, okay, not really. I took the picture, Tim said "They don't like it when you do that." The police scowled at me, and we walked on.
Ah, but those policemen did appear later in my dreams, you bet. Tonight's towel sculpture was a monkey.
