January 29, 2012
Before bogging on our very leisurely day (the Crown Princess is anchored at their private island, Princess Cays (pronounced “keys”) I am compelled to belly ache, growl, and generally vent.
With some 3200 people on board (2000 of them passengers) you know there are going to be folks who are upset about everything. Nothing is right, and how dare you! I paid good money to be on this ship, and I expect to be greeted in grand fashion!
At least that’s the way some of our fellow cruisers act. For lunch today, we grabbed a slice of pepperoni pizza and cokes, and sat by a window overlooking Princess Cays. Two women – obviously God’s gift to Princess Cruises – sat opposite us, and started complaining before ever settling their boats into their chairs (Luke and Mac may read this and they are not allowed to say BUTT, so I will use the more polite form, as in “Nemo touched the boat” – actually his little fish friend did say “butt” but we aren’t allowed to say “butt” unless it is the NCAA March Madness, then you can say BUTler).
One ancient gal, with prematurely orange hair, snapped her fingers at the young man serving in our area and asked, “Did you clean this table?” He assured her he had. “Well,” Orangey said, “You obviously do not know the meaning of the world ‘clean’. Is there ANYONE on this ship who does?” The young man who was the object of her belligerence had only minutes earlier waited on us (and our table was, indeed, clean), bringing extra silverware, extra napkins, offering a service of beverages, and generally being very efficient. I guess if she puts him down, it will build her up, although I don’t remember Mark quoting Jesus in that fashion: “Choose the lower station, and wait to be elevated to the higher station.”
That was an extreme example, but a lot of people treat the folks who serve us onboard as though the staff were only just higher up the evolutionary scale than say, a pile of doggie doolie. I couldn’t tell you how many people I have observed being served, and never once saying, “Thank you.” Buying a ticket must excuse you from having good manners. If there is a Ship’s Discipline for passengers, it surely must have a paragraph about being civil to the folks who are taking care of your ever need. The rude dudes and dudettes were certainly not raised in the vicinity of 117 Shenandoah Avenue!
It is a fact of life, that the more cruises you book with a particular cruise line, the more perks the company gives you to keep you coming back. We ate on our last cruise with a couple who proclaimed 50 voyages, and therefore, demanded, yes demanded, to be seated at the Captain’s table. It was only their money that entitled them to such – certainly not their humility or their civility – and they never seemed to grasp that fact. Since they were sitting at a table for four couples, they obviously weren’t all that important – not a captain’s table in sight, not even a captain’s chair, or a captain’s cup, or a captain’s whatever (insert Nemo here) – because they had to rub elbows with the unwashed six of us!
Oh well.
And now for the day’s activities.
This afternoon we attended our first ever onboard ship fine arts auction. Anyone who has ever been on a cruise has seen beautiful paintings (and some strange paintings) lining the passage ways. I guess you can buy a painting straight out, but today was the first of several auctions. The auctioneer gave a history of the artist and his or her works, then told us what the retail price was in the art world, and finally told us what the opening bid would be on each piece – ranging from $190 to over $15,000. He showed us some 30 pieces, getting bids only on the first two lots, selling only three paintings.
My mind, as most of the readers of this blog know, works in not normal ways. As he took down the final offering, having talked for about 45 minutes without making any more sales, I thought of the old Beatles song, “Eleanor Rigby.” The Beatles sang of the local parson writing the words to a sermon no one would hear, and Ms. Rigby “was buried along with her name. Nobody came.”
I imagined the frustration of the auctioneer – and the parson – putting incredible energy into something that produced no response from his listeners, or in the case of the parson, produced no listeners.
“Message, Spock?”
Well, my first talk – “Pirates of the Caribbean” – will be Monday at 1 p.m. The five o’clock movie out on deck is, you guessed it, “Pirates of the Caribbean.”
Closed circuit to Wendy: Tell your oldest child that they have me listed in the program, not as David, but as Melvin. And now a man who needs no introduction ...
This morning I went to a Interdenominational Church Service, directed by the Assistant Cruise Director, Chris Hycz. There were about 30 folks in the service. We recited some old prayers and confessions and sang all of the verse to “Stand Up, Stand Up For Jesus,” “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee,” and “Onward, Christian Soldiers!” None of the songs were politically correct. They all talked about God as Father, mentioned war and combat, and referred to humanity as “men.” Chris’ message – and he introduced himself as not being a pastor, not being a priest, having no credentials other than the desire to lead us in worship – was “Take the Worst Seat.”
Macedonians, when you read that sermon title in an upcoming bulletin, pretend you did not reach this Blog.
It was a good, lazy day doing not much of anything. I went to a Skategories game. Bonnie went to ceramics class. We both attended the art auction (see above), had supper in the Botticelli dining room (fish for me, shrimp for her), and attended the early show of comedians Alfred and Seymour (as Seymour said when selling their DVDs, you CAN have fun without cussing). I took no pictures today, but tomorrow is all day at sea, so I will try and get some pix around the ship.
TTFN!
