The Basics of This Thing

This will only be interesting to those of you who do not live on ships and never have. Here are the basic details of the thing:

So I live in a window-free interior room, in the passenger section, towards the back of the ship. There are two beds, which are both about 3.5” wide. We finagled two pillows apiece, but I think this is an indication that we are sneaky. Over one bed is an optional pull down cot (with no cot in it). All in all, the room is about 10’ wide and probably 20’ long. In that length, we also have a closet, fridge, little vanity station, little desk, decent bathroom and a bunch of shelves. So it is kinda like there is a lot of room, meaning there are a lot of places to cram things. The bathroom has a little shower that is pretty nice and a nice sink and a toilet. It’s not as crammed as say a railroad cabin. A New Yorker would be very comfortable. Unless that New Yorker were rich. Also, a crew person told us that our showers are much nicer than the crew ones, where overweight people have to “you know, wash their front, get out, go back in and wash their back” because the showers are so narrow.

Each cruise is 8 days long. It kinda goes like this:

Day 1: Los Angeles (really San Pedro)

Day 2: At Sea, in a hotel, with 3,500 other people, 1,094 of whom are workers who work something insane like 12 hours a day for very little pay in a US opinion, but a king’s ransom in the opinion of South Africa, the Philippines, etc., 6 of whom are workers who do 4 shows a week and 2 lectures and who marginally fear resentment-based poisoning (that’s us).

Day 3: At Sea, same hotel, same 3,500 other people, find one person you will see over and over—for this cruise, it is a middle aged woman who has dyed her very short hair black and then the bangs florescent pink. She is usually frowning.

Day 4: Acapulco from morning until midnight. Therefore: wild party day. The one night the (very good) lounge singer can drink, since she sings 6 nights a week. This fact is regarded with pity and empathy at her personal tradgedy.

Day 5: Zhuatenejo/Ixtapa from 7 a.m. until 2 p.m. 6 lazy workers say “we’re barely there!” because they get up at 11 a.m. typically. These workers are: us.

Day 6: Puerto Vallarta until 5 p.m. We spend this day rehearsing so far. Or: going to a resort with a swim up bar. We may not go too much, or at least not sit under the huts on the beach. A crotchety rotund older gentleman with insane snaggle toes said “you make a lot of people upset when you come here” because we are dirty gypsies from a dirty cruise ship. The people who have the right to be there (his opinion) loudly proclaimed “SO MY PODIATRIST SAID TO PUT MONISTAT ON MY FEET” during a very loud conversation. A castmate said “I can’t take it any more.” Every 5-10 minutes you are offered something to purchase from people who troll the beach and activate your guilt reflex. My favorite was “feesh. Feesh.” Which featured bright red fish on a skewer, also shrimp.

Day 7: Cabo San Lucas until 3:30 p.m. We spend this day going to a resort with a swim up bar and free wireless but $4 water. Still, that’s fair.

Day 8: At Sea, in hotel, same 3,500 people who have learned their way around.

Day 9, which is also day 1: Los Angeles (really San Pedro) with the bliss of a cellphone and a strong desire to call everyone you have ever met and to run in a field.

A cruise veteran friend of mine said the hardest thing to get used to was barely working. This is a hilarious problem to have, but is our problem. You must harness your imagination for good, not turn on one another, keep busy, try to have a vegetable and accept that the cookies will be there tomorrow, in the same delicious formation, and that you don’t really like them too much anyway, and that just because something is free does not mean you should try to put as much of it as possible into your body, and that alcohol can be enjoyed in moderation. I read a book a week so far and am succeeding and failing to varying degrees in relation to these challenges.

Pretty much every night, someone says “do you want to go to the Spinnaker?” which is a lounge on the top floor. This is the meeting place/bar. It is entirely normal except that you will get in conversations with Chinese acrobats (logically) who can’t speak a ton of English, which is a shame because they can do insane things like spin a table with their feet and play peek-a-boo in front of their face with their feet. But do anything for 3 years straight and I guess you get sick of it, even if it is your ability to throw large ceramic pots 15 feet in the air and catch them on the back of your neck or on the corner of the lip of the pot so that it is balanced on the middle of your head (actual person). You might also chat with a 20 year-old ex-ballerina from Britain and her gymnast boyfriend, or a female dancer from Belarus who says “well, I used to be an Olympic gymnast” in a very “I’m bored with myself” type of way and “yeah yeah, I did all that ribbon and ball stuff.” Equally boring to her is her ability to stand on one leg and lift the other one straight up and almost behind her head.

We have rehearsals, which are pretty normal, except they may be stopped with “WHAT WAS THAT!” because random bat manta rays are flinging themselves out of the ocean to flip in the air. Or you see a group of dolphins, or about 40 whale spouts in 20 minutes. Sometimes a whale tail. That is very insane.

Random additional information:

Jobs on board I have overheard: one woman has to go around the buffet and sanitize every single serving spoon and tong that someone could possibly touch. She (South African) was complaining to the server (Indian) behind the buffet line that she had 2 more hours of sanitizing. The guys who work our spotlights spend most of their time in the laundry…working. The guys who play music for 6 hours a day (Filipino) also go outside and put on a mustache and native Mexican garb to pose for “Welcome to Mexico!” photos with passengers.

Favorite overheard from a completely hammered group of adults, regarding their adult children and their unwillingness to hear about certain aspects of their parents' lives: “Are you kidding! The first kid was a Rum Baby, the second one was a Marguerita Baby—HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

It is unappealing to watch most people eat an ice cream cone.