Cruise Ship

I am one of those snobs, whose disdain for those hotels on the water, otherwise known as, cruise ships, has me making disparaging remarks about never being stranded on one of those vessels with all of those people. You know the type. True, I did grow up watching "Love Boat," where each new batch of lonely souls arrived on the ship being greeted by perky Julie, the cruise director, and Gopher. But somehow, the idea of traveling, or rather, seeing the world from the limited purview of a ship seemed wholly unappealing, again an assault on my snobbish views about people who experienced the world this way. And yes, I do know such people who travel the world on board a cruise ship. They are, each in their own way, a bit provincial (no matter how much money they have), and one of those people who, if they didn't have as much money, would be shuttling on and off tour buses in far flung destinations. They would be the tourists I held in such disdain when I lived overseas.

So, you can imagine my disbelief as I pulled my overnight suitcase up the gangplank of the newest Gem of the Norwegian Cruise line. I was, along with my husband and new friends, headed for a 12 hour cruise around the New York harbor, a glorified booze cruise for adults being hosted by American Express. The evening was sold as a dining experience for the gourmand since some of the hottest chefs in New York would be cooking dinner, all capped off with a performance by John Legend in their theater. And since I and my husband have such strong feelings about cruises in general, we thought this would be the most ideal way to do it since the whole venture was no more than 12 hours.

As I headed toward the Norwegian Cruise Ship greeters, I noticed two Purell dispensers, which we were told to use liberally. Yes, there have been all those strange ship viruses that had run cruises aground, its participants heading to hospitals, some unknown virus taking down an entire floating hotel. After dousing my hands with that strange cool liquid, I found myself surrounded by people of all sizes, mostly large, and colors. I made my way to my cabin, which was the size of a hotel room in Japan. Again, I marveled to find myself here, of all places. We met our friends for cocktails, and then headed up top to see the ship leaving the New York harbor. The view of lights as the ship sailed further away made this strange trip well worth it. The dinner was fine, not as good as I've had at Gramercy Tavern. John Legend gave a heartfelt, condensed version of his show. It was a bit strange seeing him perform in a setting similar to a Las Vegas hotel. Wasn't that the place performers ended up as their name became synonymous with what had once been cool? For someone, whose career, should still be relevant, well, it was odd indeed.

This evening would have been fine, if not for the hordes of people on the ship. I don't consider myself a true misanthrope, but it is experiences much like this that makes me think living among the people is not for me. I had the same feeling when I had to serve on a jury in Los Angeles, a jury that was in no way a 'jury of my peers'. What was most striking about the ship was how much like Vegas it was. There was the sense of time being inconsequential, so much so, that the ship actually promulgated the idea of the watch or clock's irrelevance on board. People, despite the short duration of this trip, partied as if it were 1999. The casino was full, people gambling away the hours, much like I've seen in Las Vegas. The Duty Free shops opened once we got into neutral waters, so that people could browse after dinner for that Rolex, which would now be duty free. Couples lounged in the bar where beds were used instead of chairs, all in their quest to live out a long held Bacchanalian fantasy.

After watching John Legend, my husband and I headed to the disco where they promised an evening of reliving "Saturday Night Fever." Images of John Travolta in that infamous white suit was not far from my mind as I figured the disc jockey would be spinning tunes from that much parodied era. You can imagine my shock when we arrived to find the dance floor empty, a few overgrown adults dancing to familiar songs coming from, not a disc jockey, but a band of performers from Manila. I had noticed the plethora of Filipinos, who worked on board from maids, waiters, to bar tenders. But this band of performers, singing all the old standards from the era of Studio 54, were definitely Filipino. It was as we watched this band perform, "We Are Family," that we had to leave.

Aside from the Filipino staff on board this Norwegian cruise ship, the thing I noticed most was the amount of food available for consumption at all hours of the day. It seemed as if you couldn't walk more than ten steps without hitting another restaurant, hence, the explanation for the numbers of overweight adults. But then, that's a problem prevalent throughout this great land of ours.

After sleeping too little, we packed our overnight bags, and headed to the breakfast buffet (a staple of cruise ships, I've learned). Again, I was struck by the sheer number of breakfast foods available. I could see, if one were inclined to overeat, how tempting it would be to sit there for a few hours, sampling everything from the omelet bar to the waffle station. We disembarked, heading out into a gray New York day, a bit wiser, definitely feeling our 40 years, but definitively clear in our knowledge that a cruise would not be in our future.