Did you die or was it your sister

Today was another day in St. John’s, in New Brunswick. There was a big mess with shuttles from the ship into the town. Probably because there were 3 cruise ships in port on the same day, for the same morning—the Norwegian Dawn, us, and the Caribbean Princess. The Princess looks like one size up the Russian doll chain/like it birthed our ship.

We had to wait outside in very brisk weather for about 20 minutes, some of us having very dramatic feelings about how difficult our lives were. I was encouraged to see that even at 11 a.m. in Canadian weather, two passengers got off the ship with ice cream cones which they finished in the parking lot.

We made it back on the ship and were standing in a group, talking. A gentleman in his sixties came up to us and said “I got a title for ya!” Usually, this is bad news, so we all went “oh heh greaaaat” and plastered on smiles, because people will say “RABBIT—isn’t that hilarious??” or something ridiculous. Then he said “’Did You Die or Was It Your Sister’—my wife overheard two ladies in the hallway—one lady came up to the other and said ‘did you die or was it your sister.’ Swear to God.” This is obviously great.

If you have a lot of time, say, to, say, THINK, I would not NEGATIVE recommend reading anything based on the post apocalypse. Especially if you are say trapped on say a ship with a bunch of people and a limited food and fuel and water supply, just saying, ha ha ha.