Valentine's Day

Now I see just how pervasive the fist pound is across global cultures. Everyone pounds fists in greeting, which 1) prevents the spread of GI because we’re not supposed to shake hands and 2) looks hilarious when it is between a tiny Indian and a Canadian or a nerdy gay dancer and a Filipino. But it is very friendly. One of the singers, who sings every night for 2 hours, said she will just never tell anyone in the main ship’s crew that she is tired because they work for like 12 hours straight. This makes sense. I almost slept by the pool, but thought better of it. I am a martyr!!!

There seems to be a small Jabba the Hut motif among the passengers by the pool.

They threw a large party for the crew for Valentine’s Day. The youth counselors all bartended, which means they opened beers as quickly as possible and poured wine as quickly as possible, and everybody walked up and inhaled them as quickly as possible. People threw ice at each other for a little bit and one of the dancers took down the “HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY” banner and wore it as a necklace and a skirt and divided it up with other people too. Some of the dancers got on the dance floor, which is not fair because they are professionals, but we were saved by the band saying “NOW BACK IT UP!” “NOW STEP TO THE RIGHT!” so it was harder for them to be inventive and original and gorgeous. A French gentleman got hit with the ice and was very upset because it went down his shirt and into his pants. In an effort get rid of the ice, we saw some of his white and black speedo-ish underwear. I was shy for him and a South African said “oh the French don’t care, they’ll show you anything” so I guess South Africans don’t like the French either? Apparently there is a rule amongst the crew that they are never allowed to get drunk because at any point there could be a drill and people would have to go and man their stations. So. Security, which is Nepalese and trained in an ancient Nepalese martial art apparently (this is not a lie), can come and randomly give a crew member a breathalyzer. If said member fails this breathalyzer, said member can be left at the next port. There is a lot of leaving-at-next port apparently. That is the threat that they…apparently do. We technically can’t do all sorts of things, but since they are not allowed to search our rooms or give us random tests, we are never going to be caught. Everyone else: has random room searches and drug tests, etc.

In a moment of post-party glee, I sat in someone’s Rascal that was parked outside of their room on our floor. There are a lot of Rascals (those are those motorized wheelchair things) and canes and general oldie-moldy-accessories. My favorite was watching one Rascal rider get very annoyed with another Rascal rider who was blocking his way to the elevator say “EXCUSE ME, guuuuH!” You are not supposed to sit on random strangers’ Rascals, even though it is a random padded chair, because there are cameras everywhere watched by some nationality and enforced by the Nepalese and apparently this is something that can get you left at the next port. Or rather, if you get drunk, then naked and then drive it around in a hallway, which apparently someone did, which is hilarious. Mom, I did not do this.

I should note that these Nepalese people say “namaste” to each other, because that means “hello.” This is delightful because I am used to serious white people saying it at the end of yoga classes very seriously and bowing over hands in the prayer position and then explaining “this means the god in me salutes the god in you. Namaste.” I would love to witness the Nepalese CRUISESHIP DEATH SQUAD! witness this.

We met a passenger who said “Hey I have an idea for you—Ozzy Ozborne meets Ozzy Nelson. Wouldn’t that be great!!!”

My other favorite quote:
“I was working out with one of the Russians.”
“Which one.”
“Um… the feather haired one?”
Everyone: “oh yeah yeah yeah.”