Saturday, February 28, 2009

Nametag Show Down!

Last night at crew bar featured this lineup:

Large African-American Doctor, next to a young South African spa girl, next to me, next to the Romanian Gentleman. The Romanian gentleman and I have a little joke that he will marry me for a green card and divorce me, which I hate, etc. but now it is our joke. So he sat next to me, we did our joke, I told him to marry someone else, he said everyone is terrible because they are Canadian and he wants to go to America. He then said “where are you from?” and reached over and grabbed the nametag of the South African Spa Girl, to check her flag. The Large African-American Doctor said “what’re you doing! Get offa there!” and slapped his hand away, since name tags reside on boobs. The large doctor then said “you’d get shot for doing that in New York” in a particularly threatening, anti-friendly way.  The tension on our bench went to 100%, and the joker Romanian lost his smile completely and got totally still like something very violent was going to happen and stared down the large doctor and said “in my country, you’d get beheaded.”

 

Oh my.

 

 

Friday, February 27, 2009

Security Training

Our shows were slightly weird last night. Scenes ran long, I found good moments to do some serious thinking which was unfortunately the same time I was supposed to say a line. Upon saying a correct line which I have said approximately 3000 times before, I got convinced I made a mistake and got totally paralyzed and stared googlie eyed at my partner, when I am supposed to be squealing and jumping up and down. This is because someone drew a 9mm in the middle of a lecture and pointed it at a crew member.

We had ISPS training yesterday. This is security training. Now, most boring corporate training is boring and pointless and doesn’t apply to you. When we got in the boring room with boring PowerPoint on a screen, the very British officer running the training played some YouTube clips, one that was from “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader” and featured a dingy cute blond from the south insisting that France is not a country and Europe IS a country and that she has never even heard of the country Hungary. The fifth grader was appalled.

We signed in right next to replicas of a time bomb, and several replicas of explosive plastique. Interesting. We sat in the back with a bunch of cooks and room stewards and random people from the crew. The officer started the training and said, modestly, shyly “Oh, Second City’s here, well, I’ll try to improvise myself.” Then we proceeded to have a torture session for obsessive, overdramatic, sensitive people with too much time on their hands who also like to make jokes. We were trained on both the reality of an attack, what would happen in the event of a terrorist attack and why we are a likely delicious target for terrorism. The security officer showed a hilarious PowerPoint presentation that he clearly made himself, because it had too many animations and featured sound effects. Which sound effects? Oh, gunshots, ricochet sounds, and my favorite, a bomb explosion. When we got to the slide explaining 9/11, the slide swept left with a huge bomb sound and showed 2 photos of the twin towers, side by side. We also saw several al-Jezeera images and were explained how terrorist cells work and why they would bomb a ship. This was totally terrifying and also hilarious, because one of the al-Jezeera images was Osama spinning the earth on one finger. He would always ask us if we were okay. I did not say “I would like to be sick.”

Then he showed us all sorts of photos of mangled bodies and blown up ships and the idea that there was a pirate attack attempt on the Norwegian Star (my first contract) and a bomb threat on the Norwegian Spirit (my second contract), so that was awesome. The Star now enters Mexican waters with the assistance of a gunship escort. The PowerPoint would say “gory photo coming up” and then we’d have a person sans arms head or legs. So that was delightful and completely terrifying.

The security manager also told us “this is what it will be like if a terrorist comes on board” and from his music stand that he was using as a podium, he pulled a completely realistic looking 9mm and pointed it at someone in the room. Ever had that happen? Well it’s totally terrifying and takes several days to recover from.



random fun thing:
someone told me this with all wide-eyed sincerity:
“I like guys who are tall, older than me and with a nice set of teeth.”

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

A Stingray Tour

In case you are wondering, the ocean is still totally bizarre. I did a tour with stingrays. This is me holding a 60 lb. female and being pretty sure she was going to flip out and eat my face: 


Here we are again:

Here's the normal sized male: So relaxed!!!

Here's me calmly patting the female and not being afraid of the tail:

And here's us in a line, waiting for the tour to start. As soon as the stingrays noticed us, they knew they were going to eat. It was very hard not to let go of the fish and freak out when the sting ray came towards you. I succeeded on my third try. 

And here is a personal ad that I would write if I was a female stingray:

Hieee!!! I’m a really fun female, about 8 feet wide on my disk. I’m looking for a guy who’s smaller than me (obvious!!!) and looking to mate a night. But only in the winter. I don’t have any teeth—well, I mean technically I do, but they are like sandpaper nub things, so not really teeth. I hope that is not a problem!!! I am NOT a shark and I can join you on the surface of the water for like a second but I can’t really let my eyes come out of the water (I hope that is not a big deal!!!!) because I will choke to death etc. (hahaha!!!).  Anyway, I have separate breathing and eating holes.  One for eating (my mouth!) and two for breathing (behind my eyes!!!) which I hope makes me interesting and you don’t find creepy!!!! I prefer guys with two visible genital prongs that they don’t hide (I think it’s important). I used to have like a foot long-ish (I bet it is shorter) prong on my tail that was (WAS!!! J ) covered in venom. Um, a) I never used it and b) fyi I would only have used it if I was EXTREMELY SCARED meaning—I had REASON—because I am delicious to eat! Or so I hear (not that I’ve ever been like a cannibal or whatever, ew gross!!!). I have to be honest and say I DO prefer to stay near the bottom and flap around in the sand (this is a deal breaker if you are not into it). People sometimes scream and go “EW GROSS!” when I touch them (this is if those people are stupid). I must say I DO get mad if you step on me (just being honest). Most people think I give velvety soft kisses with my body (just the underside!!!!). Some people think I feel like a soggy huge pancake with a pushy weight of a golden retriever behind me. I…well, I hope that’s not true. But I am a stingray. So. I hope that’s okay.


If I were the ocean, I would be very annoyed about being called a weirdo alien with weirdo alien residents.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

I Have Seen the Concorde

The cockpit of the Concorde may be one of the most fascinating things I have seen in I don’t know how long. I could have stared at it for about 30 minutes and talked about it all day. Probably staring could have lasted 2 hours and talking: 1 month. A guy and his girlfriend stared at it for about 3 minutes before me and took a million photos, and the museum guide had to kick them out. I had a Pentecostal trio stand behind me (favorite quote: very defensive: from the very large man: “I LIKE caviar. It’s good.” Somehow, the 35-40-ish daughter had never heard of caviar?) trying to ruin my life and then Reggie, our tour guide, officially ruined my life by saying “the bus is leaving.” Imagine 4 seats packed into a place as small as 2 airplane bathrooms with half the head room. Then imagine the whole thing covered in tiny dials, switches and meters. It is the cockpit of a fighter jet. O Lord in heaven, it was fascinating.

 

When you are in the Concorde, you fly in the stratosphere. This means you are so high in the atmosphere that if you looked up, you would see black because it is SPACE. When you look out your window, you would see the view that ASTRONAUTS get, which is the curvature of the earth. Like those pictures of continents and oceans and clouds with a little haze over it and then black, i.e. SPACE.

 

The engineering was explained in one of the best multimedia presentations I have seen to date, and I am a hideous, judgmental snob about that. They did the sonic boom (and all of the little kids in the airplane hanger scream in unison, every single time), they explained the engines and that the pilot can move jet fuel around the plane to alter the aircraft’s center of gravity. When they talked about something, they would highlight it on the plane. They also projected the film: on the plane.

 

The wheels are filled with liquid nitrogen, because it gets so high in the atmosphere that it needs to be able to freeze.

 

I laughed very hard at the stewardess uniforms.

 

We then had a drink at a bar. 

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Tortola Snorkeling

I escorted a snorkeling tour in Tortola. It was run by a couple who sold their house in Florida last year, bought a boat, and now live in Tortola. The guy, Bill, loves snorkeling to the point that he does it on his days off. I asked his wife, Ginger, if she likes living in Tortola. She had a huge smile and looked like an aged, very happy, tanned movie star. She said, with a gentle accent, “it’s kinda like livin’ in a 3rd world country? I mean, there is NOTHIN’ to do. They’ve been building a movie theater for FIVE years. And it’s exPENsive. I mean, a gallon of milk is 11 dollars.” I had to make sure I understood that for a while, as in “you don’t mean $11 US, right.” And she had to say “yes! Yes! $11! And I like milk! Bill drinks milk all the time! I mean you can get the boxed milk but that’s not homogenized and…no.”  She said it’s made her really appreciate the US. Especially “things like, you know, TARGET” because Target is crack to women.

 

She later offered to spray sunscreen on my back, which I found condescending, so I condescended back and informed her I have been pale my whole life, and now I have a burn on my back so bad that it hurts to lean back in chairs and take showers. HUBRIS!

 

Bill showed us all sorts of coral and wildlife. He looked like a chiseled, tan star from old movies and he’d free dive all over the place. I thought “hm, I can do that” and took my head down probably…8 feet…and the rest of the day my nose would randomly drip water about once an hour.

 

We snorkeled around Norman Island and went to the famous cave from Treasure Island lore—the only cave where they actually found a treasure chest. This cave is probably 15 feet by 6 feet. And no historical markers or anything.

 

We also went to 3 rocks called “the Indians,” named that by Christopher Columbus. They had an insane wall of coral with neon colors and growths that looked like they were from a cartoon. It felt completely fake. If you told me all the fish were fake and they were planted there and drawn by someone at Disney, I would say “I know.”

 

Bill made it clear he finds Global Warming a bunch of crap. He said the Caribbean coral is healthier than he’s ever seen it, and the reason everything is dying off the coast of Key West is because the Army Corps of Engineers is pouring fresh water into the ocean, which kills the coral. Then he’d say “clean your mask” or “they need to move their anchor, because it’s in sea grass and that’s what the turtles eat—but this guy’s a real local-local, so he does whatever he wants.” He also pulled up a sea cucumber which looked like plastic sheeting on the end of a gas pump nozzle.

Crew Show and the Fascination with Defecation

For those of you who would DARE to say that say, people who work on ships have their minds warped and are only interested in the lowest common denominator, I give you: for an example: Our Crew Show. We did Dr. Know-It-All, with 4 officers. The hotel director, the food and beverage director, the head of security (a terrifying guy from Muldova) and the cruise director. They form a line, field questions, answer them one word at a time. We asked approximately 6. Every single answer dealt with shitting. When did they decide to become naval officers? While shitting. What are they proud of? Shitting. Who will win the (soccer term)? Manchester/Chelsea, which has big fat hairy balls. Also; shitting. What is the meaning of life? Shitting. I’m sure we could get very philosophical about why this is true. Or we could say “awesome, every single answer involved poop.” The hotel director at least threw in the word “curly” which was more colorful but if you hooked him to a lie detector, I’m sure he would be forced to indicate he heard this from another joke at some point. Did the audience love it? Obviously. Is it kind of not fair to expect a terrifying human tank Muldovan, a Frenchman, a gentle Canadian and a (foreign Caucasian)man to do semi decent jokes? Or just maybe not talk about shitting? Sages! Answer!

 

Usually we bow after an answer. Hilariously, no one except the improvisers would do it. So, a nervous gentleman improviser was to the left of the giant human tank

 

Someone else on stage (Ken-doll singer) was pimped to declare his unrequited love for a girl in the audience (beautiful, Barbie doll Ukrainian dancer).

 

We have a famous beatboxer on the ship with the acapella singers (“the most famous acapella singing group in the world”). I have now met 3 professional beatboxers. He uses a very sensitive hand mic and two mics taped to his neck, right over his vocal cords. It actually looks like he has a medical condition and the mics keep him alive.

 

If you need someone to butcher a blackout, who is too bored by something to explain it properly and therefore sets it up to fail after 20 minutes of amusing (for her) pontification on comedy and the k-word heavy inner monologue resulting in a terrible performance, my rates are high.

 

 

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Improv Jam and Butts

We did an improv jam last night with a dancer, the standup, the lighting tech, a YC, all of the second city people, one of the a cappella singers, and the cruise director. It was, of course, totally delightful and totally fun and we went from around 11 p.m., when we all pretended we didn’t care about it and were too cool, until 2 a.m. when everyone was geeking out and yapping and laughing very hard that the cruise director was the funniest and made us all laugh until we were crying. The cruise director is an ex-gymnast and an impeccably polite ex-Connecticut, current Canadian with a tasteful haircut. Not the person you’d expect to play a stoner whose rock bottom moment was: “I spent a week in a dumpster once. It was all right.” Everything makes sense again.

 

I would very happily get all of the dancers in a circle and make them all get quiet and say, “now, I want you to be honest with me. In a place of total acceptance, really,” and we’d all make eye contact “WHY DO YOU WANT TO DO THIS.” And if they said “well, I love it.” I’d say, “yes, fine I understand, but WHY. WHYYY. ISN’T IT BORING????? AREN’T YOU BORED OUT OF YOUR MIND?????” Every time I see those shows, I can only imagine being in the show, ending it, finding my boss, and saying “I will never, ever do this again. I hate this, it is so boring, I can’t ever do this again or I will die. I made the wrong decision when I said this would be fun. Everyone is just looking at my butt. I’ll be in my room until you drive me out with dogs. I’m going to eat until I explode.”

 

Or I would say “can we talk about your butts? Now you two, I really like your butts. You, DANCER 443, I have noticed you have a scar on one of your buttcheeks. How did you get it and does it bother you that I notice? And you 4, when you are underlit, I have noticed that it is not flattering to your butts, and they look rippled, which seems unfair, because generally your butts are great. Now gentlemen, when you are in your Elvis costumes, I have noticed that I can tell what kind of underwear you have on your butts, and you, SINGER, have kind of a low butt and your belt looks too tight.”

 

Things I learned about today:

There is glow-in-the-dark mini-golf in Canada. People enjoy getting very stoned and playing.

 

 

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Clash of Nations/Races

Crew bar ended last night with a large, 40-ish frowning mustachioed gentlemen of color (Honduras? Nicaragua? St. Lucia? South Africa? Dominican Republic?) informing myself and my Canadian roommate: “I hate white people.” I said “haha” and figured he was joking and my roommate said “what?” and he said, angrier, “I hate white people.” He said this a few more times and my roommate, who is a sweetheart and a liberal said “My name’s Ashley, what’s yours?” To which he replied “Fork you” but without the fork and a much stronger and scarier word. To which she replied, “no sorry, what’s your name?” to which he replied “FORK YOU” again with no fork. No one died, we slipped into the passenger hallway. Perhaps we shall not close down crew bar again. Also, the next morning I recognized him as the man serving my roommate an omelette. Maybe he did not recognize us because we all look the same. Fingers crossed!!

 

I had a long talk with a Romanian cruise staff guy who is just back on the ship. He is 25, and has a degree in Journalism, Fitness and one other thing. He is an ex-pro soccer player. He told me at length how Romania is so boring because everyone knows his dad and then he told me about his dad, who runs a monestary and the Patriarch there will probably be the next Patriarch if the current Patriarch (eastern orthodox pope) dies. He was fun to talk to until he said all the gypsies should be rounded up in a stadium and shot, to which I said “that’s terrible” to which he said “no, no, only the bad ones.” I was told earlier this week that all the Romanians on the ship are gypsies and they had to be taken away from jobs that required interaction with passengers. The waiters would say things like “are you finished” in a very direct and straightforward way (or rude and pushy) that made passengers complain. So Romanians run the show, but they are not the soft face for the passengers. Also, for a while the Romanians “got smart.” Instead of “just dating stripes” (officers) “they got smart and said ‘I don’t just want dinner, I want money.’” So the officers started: paying. Now it is apparently much better and the crazy underbelly prostitution section of the ship is all located on Deck 2. This is where you can get anything. We’ve been doing our laundry on Deck 2. Maybe we are taking a chance. It is usually a deserted laundry room. Maybe this is why.

I’m reading a ton of P.G. Wodehouse, because he makes me laugh so much. He has a perfect way of describing people. I shall now attempt to do same. There is one girl whose face is incredibly animated during the dancing shows. She’s a great dancer and a beautiful woman and very thin, but she has 3 main expressions.

1)      An orgiastic mother 1 second before a standing ovation for her daughter’s first and perfect piano recital. Or maybe: someone encountering a long awaited God in the flesh, holding her favorite food, dripping and steaming.

2)      A bull aiming for the toreodor’s cape, smiling because when it ate the toreodor’s brother it caused a sensation and a party with all the other bulls and that same party is going to happen tonight.

3)      Spastic, laser staring glee.

This is partially because I cannot imagine being constructed with an innate desire to dance, smiling the whole time like everything is incredible. I could only do their job as a punishment or a penance or a hostage trade. People are different.

 

 

A Ballroom Workshop

Visual present:

There is a woman reading in the library, 60-ish with short hair and glasses, who is reading via holding her lips like she wants to show you her 4 central top teeth, but is too shy to make eye contact.

 

Yesterday was the workshop. I was the peon slave who was there to simply help illustrate various concepts, so I got to do some of the exercises with people. A very laughie-lady next to me said “I NEED A PARTNER!” and I discovered she is 81, although she looked no older than 70. We do 3 exercises to show how improv works, first showing how it doesn’t, then showing how it does. Not working: you start every sentence with “no” and you go back and forth. Well, when you are 81 and are doing something just for fun, you have no need to follow rules and, frankly, what do you care about doing improv correctly. So we did the “no” sentences for about 2 rounds at which point it downgraded into “you sound like my husband. He is so negative. He never wants to do anything, he always says ‘nooooo.’ But I don’t mind. I’m 81, yes, and he’s 83. I’m here and he’s in bed (although he does have a heart condition). And really, we have a lot of fun, we love to dance.”

 

Round 2 was saying “yes, but” at the beginning of every sentence. This went well for 2 rounds and then downgraded into “I mean it, my granddaughter said ‘you’re 71?! How come you don’t have a walker or a wheelchair!’ and I’m not 71, I’m EIGHTY one. Yes but.”

 

Round 3 is saying “yes, and” at the beginning of every sentence, which went better, although she’d just throw “yes” and “and” wherever, even after starting her sentences with “no because.” Pretty great.

Animal Preserve: Barbadosh

We took a tour and got there for the afternoon feeding. The monkeys get there first and pick through the sweet potatoes and sunflower seeds. These monkeys are descendants of pet monkeys from Robert Blight of the Mutiny on the Bounty fame which is a story all should read. Sometimes the turtles don't move fast enough, which means they will be stools:


But sometimes it is more comfortable to have your potato in a tree. You know, more natural:

Here is a monkey bored, annoyed, waiting for lunch to be brought out. 


These are tortoises underfoot, which looked like paving stones. One woman accidentally stood on one. She felt terrible. 


This is proof that the world still has mystery. What the hell is this alien? That is the size of a small german shepard, and so out of proportion that it looks smaller in a photo? Why, it is half rat, half deer! Sure! Cross those! Ladies and gentlemen, a (creepy) mara: 


Monday, February 2, 2009

The Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan

The Barenaked Ladies are here. This week is a charter cruise. It’s called Ships N’ Dips and features Canadian bands from all over and is run by BNL. That’s what you say. “BNL.” Which is also the bad corporation from Wall-E, which I know because they play it on the cruise movie channel every day.

 

This morning, at 10 a.m., they had the Barenaked Photo. Everyone gets on the pool deck and drops trou at the very same time. The average age here is around 40 and there seems to be a large lesbian contingent. There was a bouncer at the entrance to the pool deck saying “you in the photo?” to people coming in wearing bathrobes or towels or whatever. Then the bouncer would say “you’ll sign the waver at the end, it’s on the other end of the pool.” One guy, not in a bathrobe or towel, said sadly “I didn’t sign up” and walked away. Since people are 40 and have sense now, people got up in time to get breakfast first and then go to the photo. Since people are 40, some of them are very large, and a few gentlemen had a hard time keeping their bathrobe shut. Two generously apportioned guys came into the buffet and held their robes shut dantily, just pinching the side.

 

After the photo, they all came out, vaguely proud of themselves.

 

Today’s quote: a large woman who is probably a grandma brought to watch the kids: “We can’t sit this far away from the buffet! This is forever!” Forever=50 yards. So. Good to know.

 

NOW: also here is Sarah McLaughlin. She is playing 3 concerts because she said “I want to take my family on vacation” and someone heard that at a party and there you go. This is how it all works.

 

My roommate and I are ushering her concert. For those of you who are of a certain age and are female, you realize this means “I am probably going to cry in public” because Sarah McLaughlin was with you when you were a cripplingly dramatic spaz and told you “there are lots of cripplingly dramatic spazzes, it’s all right.” Although back then you probably thought she was saying “you’re normal and perfect and everything you do makes sense.” PHILOSOPHY!

 

There are all sorts of Green/begreen/environmental groups on the cruise. After a year of cruising, this is making my brain short circuit. After a year of following rules, hearing a comedian say “aren’t these blinds shitty?” about the shitty blinds in the main lounge, makes me want to say “YOU CAN’T SAY THAT YOU’RE GOING TO GET FIRED!!!!”