Many years ago Dianne and I went on a cruise with dear friends from Albuquerque. Yes, that’s right. It was the kind of cruise that sinks, catches fire, capsizes, makes you deathly ill, and goes adrift—with half the states of Florida and New York aboard.
It was Joe’s idea. He saw a four-for-the-price-of-one special in the newspaper.
My poor, water-deprived friend living on the high desert of New Mexico called his poor water-deprived friend living on the plains of Texas and proposed the trip.
“Let’s all four fly to Miami on airline miles, tour the Caribbean, snorkel in Grand Cayman, see Cozumel, and eat jerk chicken in Jamaica. We will live like kings and queens for a week, and stay in the same cabin.”
It all sounded so good that I missed the part about all four of us staying in the same cabin. For a week.
Oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time the four of us shared close communion. We were old camping buddies.
At the end of the week I was looking forward to a little breathing room, but the cruise had been a great experience with terrible music and wonderful friends. (And, we didn’t sink or catch fire once.)
There are lots of things to enjoy about cruising. They pamper you, fawn over you, feed you incessantly, and entertain you with just about anything you can think of.
I suppose everybody enjoys different things, but for me the highlight was watching the crew raise and lower the anchor when we were in port. It is amazing enough that the ship itself floats, but that enough steel can be gathered into the anchor to hold the ship steady against the currents and winds is fascinating to me.
Next blog is a continuation—about anchoring…