The Room Steward Horrah!

Well, I made a friend. Or rather, I finally talked to someone and asked questions like “are you married?”

I do not know how exactly this came up, but please picture the scene. First of all, there are tons of nationalities on this ship, meaning every few weeks, we have some sort of national celebration for some country. Last week was a huge Peruvian Independence day party in the crew bar, complete with flag and banners and a cake. Also, let’s note that there were whisperings of a waiter/waitress/galley cook strike that clearly went away (due to celebration? Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe). Tonight was the Jamaican night. The only odd thing about that is that they played reggae and everyone knew the words and was sincerely happy. Since this is a VACATION EXPERIENCE type ship/a cruise ship, there is constant reggae playing but usually over tanning whities who don’t know the words and are trying to read. So. Odd. Anyway. Tonight there was a Jamaican flag over the crew bar entrance, and if you walked about 40 feet, you could get the same drinks from the crew bar for free from 2 Jamaican gentlemen, who were happily singing along with the reggae and pouring wine.

Anyway, I talked to Imade, a room steward down the hall from us from Bali. I have talked to him before and enjoyed it to the point that I was worried that I had culturally become his wife. Then there was an awkward moment with cashews, when I said “can I get you guys anything?” and he and his partner said “cashews!” and I refused to take money from them and they reacted strangely, like 50% more upset then I would expect and like I made them nauseous. They said “we wouldn’t have asked you!!!” and did a lot of frowning.

Anyway, this guy that I was nervous about trying to be my lover or something (many people on ships have wives at home with an understanding that they will have girlfriends on board, which results in the confusing situation like, with our tech guy, who showed me photos of his wife and 2 kids on his cellphone, then I saw him in a Starbucks, clearly with his: girlfriend) turns out this: first of all his birthday was August 2. Secondly: he got married last year. Thirdly: on August 4th, he had a son. Um. HE HAD A SON! He had a son. He had a son. He goes back to Bali in about a week. His wife didn’t say anything about the son because, “she likes to joke around.” His brother told him “you have a son!” He is very happy. This is insane. He said “I like your body language Megan!” and “it is good you are Second City!” because I am a puppet apparently (that’s okay). He said “I like Second City! They have good energy!” Also, he said he loves extremely hard rock and heavy metal and there is a small business amongst the crew where someone will put music on your mp3 player for you, for $10. Every night, he falls asleep to the music of Linkin Park and Firehouse. He loves Metallica. Please note that this is someone who always smiles, with both rows of teeth. He has the unfortunate, probably Balinese habit, of a hand gesture that to him means “meh, you know what I mean” that to an American means “masturbation.” This is a cultural difference. He also says the job has made him lose 20 lbs. from hard work. I didn’t tell him how much I’ve gained from sloth.

He showed me pictures from his traditional wedding, which are beautiful and look like a Technicolor drawing. I gave him a phone card to call his wife as a congratulations and he looked, again, like he wanted to barf and like I ruined his life.