Thursday, March 19, 2009

Cruising with Dr. Grumpy, #5

(It’s Spring Break! We are taking advantage of recession rates to take our brood on a Mexican cruise. So you guys can now enjoy a week of relatively medical-free posts, with me blogging from the ship).


Today the S.S. Buffet was in Cabo. Our last 2 excursions off the ship (see last few posts) were just so much @#$%!!! fun that we decided to just stay on board.

On the way to breakfast this morning I passed a cabin with a sock over the door handle. I had no idea guys still did that. It was quite nostalgic. Last time I saw that signal was when I lived in a dorm at BSU (Big State University) in 1985. In this day and age I guess I'd figured guys had developed a more technologically advanced way of saying "do not enter, I am scoring" (or at least trying to make others think you are).

It was comical, especially when 9 year-old Frank asked me why there was a sock on the door (I told him they needed laundry done). I briefly toyed with the ideas of exchanging it with the "maid service please" sign on another door, or even going to the ship's store and buying a whole package of socks to put on every door along that hall to make it look like some sort of humpfest was in progress.

There is actually a lady, I swear, who brought a FUCKING SCALE on the ship. She weighs herself BY THE POOL every morning, and loudly announces her current state of chubbiness. Since the numbers keep going up, I can only assume she is looking for a sympathetic response. But no one else responds. I think they're all afraid she'll offer to weigh anyone who speaks up.

In the afternoon I started playing cards with Craig and Marie by the pool. They became indignant, feeling that since they'd seen a room labeled "card room" downstairs, we shouldn't be playing cards anywhere else. In fact, both were concerned security would haul us away for even having possession of a deck of cards anywhere but a designated card room.

So we went to the card room. There was one family playing bridge, and a group of blue haired elderly ladies playing Mahjong. Craig immediately went over to inform the grandma club that it was the card room, and they could get in trouble for playing non-card games.

I hurriedly grabbed an empty table, dragging Craig away from theirs. I sat down to play steal the bundle with them. I had my back to the wall, and the twins were facing me. Unfortunately, in my hurry I hadn't noticed I'd sat down beneath some 17th century painting of the roman god Mercury, wearing nothing but a hat. So Marie suddenly shrieked "Look! You can see his penis!" Then they both began cackling hysterically.

At this point I began getting some icy glares. So I gathered up the cards and kids, mumbled an apology to the Mahjong League of Death, and ran out.

The day wrapped up with a party for past guests, which involved free drinks, so I had several. There were also hors d'ouvres. A pleasant young wattress kept coming by our seat with a tray of things (it was too dark in there to see what). When queried she said "They’re chili fish". I had no interest at all in them, and said no. So she put one on my plate. As soon as she left I quickly moved the plate to an empty table, so she immediately came back to offer me another chili fish. This time I apparently managed to communicate my complete lack of interest, and she pleasantly wandered off, only to return 1 minute later to ask me if I'd like a chili fish.

At this point the orchestra announced they were opening up the floor for dancing, so again Marie dislocated my shoulder to drag me onstage. Muttering a silent prayer that none of my patients were watching, I went up again. So we danced in front of 500 or so past guests. At one point Marie lost her balance and grabbed my shorts for support. Unfortunately, I was wearing shorts with an elastic waistband and no belt. Miraculously, I grabbed them just before they were lowered too much, sparing the past guests a view of my undies and possibly reasons to try another cruise line.

So we went back to our seat, and a cruise photographer (his name is Whackjob, I swear) immediately came over to get a picture of Marie and I. He fired a trillion megawatt flash at me from point blank range, blinding me for several seconds. All I could see was a bright light surrounding me, and briefly wondered if I'd died. I quickly realized I'd done no such thing when a voice through the blinding light suddenly said "Chili Fish?"

I really like cruising. Too bad the lines aren't interested in having the services of a neurologist on board. Maybe they could have a stroke-themed cruise ("you're planning on having a stroke, sir? Well, on Cruiseship Lines we have a special ‘stroke at sea’ cruise, featuring an on-board neurologist and MRI").

Any interested cruise lines please email me.

And that's the way it is.


Minime said...

*a ghostly white figure, drifting into your office*


Barb said...

I've just discovered your blog, am going through your archives and think you are brilliant! Re having a neurologist on a cruise, just wait. As the population ages it just might come to pass. They already have cruises for people on dialysis...

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