Beautiful sunset
We like ports of call, too, and shore excursions, but one the the best things about cruising is sailing along on the sunny open ocean, with nothing to do. Having two long, lazy days at sea to end this cruise – with beautiful sunsets – was just fine with us.
The final days of a cruise – especially days at sea – are an opportunity to do all the things that you planned to do when you boarded, but somehow never got around to it. Things on that list for me this time:
- play mini-golf
- do the ropes course
- have sushi
- have a burger at the popular poolside burger joint
- get a hot dog from the hot dog cart
- check out the “Serenity” adults-only lounge
- catch an after-dinner show
- listen to “Woodstock Generation”
Delicious burger
The hot dog cart is classified as a “good try” – I twice tried to get there, but never found it open. I am not sure it was ever open on this cruise, so I will give myself partial credit for that one. In any case, I did manage to get a very good hot dog – with sauerkraut, of course – at the deli.
The hot dog was good, but the burger was great. We had marveled at the long lines at this poolside stand throughout the cruise and had made some snarky comments to each other on how an American tourist just couldn’t survive without a burger, regardless of how many other international dining options were available. But, after tasting one, I withdraw all snarkiness. This burger was damn good. One of the best I ever had. Way better than the pricy one I had in Curacao, and totally free. Waiting in a long line would definitely be justified.
Sashimi meal
We also did not make it to an after-dinner show on the last two nights at sea. Frankly, the entertainment on this cruise was not great. We saw about 20 minutes of the “Divas” show – a tribute to female singers – and walked out. It just wasn’t very good. Other shows involved juggling. Not our cup of tea.
So how did we pass our days? Well, we did stop by the casino from time to time – long enough to make our cruise casino experience a net loss, which was expected – but we also spent quite a few very pleasant hours on the smoking side of the promenade deck playing canasta. I didn’t think I would ever say this, but I am beginning to enjoy canasta. Beating the Canasta Queen (aka Jett) once in those two days was a highlight of these final days of the cruise.
We also bought some more cigarettes on board and then spent way too much time trying to figure out how they were going to complicate our disembarkation. We heard conflicting stories – from other passengers and from an internet search – as to whether the 5 extra cartons (we are each allowed to bring one carton back into the states) would be taxed or confiscated. I even stood in a long line to ask Carnival staff that question. Their unsatisfying answer? It is up to the discretion of the customs inspector. I guess if he is having a bad day he can just take the cigarettes.
Brave Jett
The airboat trip was interesting. We learned a lot about the Everglades and saw a few alligators in the wild. We also saw a show about alligators and tried to grab a bite at the ridiculously overcrowded cafe, but instead just hung out, enjoying the beautiful weather and speculating how the business could make a lot more money on busy days like this by putting a couple of food carts – and maybe an ice cream stand – outside. No charge for the advice, guys.
Our flight was not until 8:30pm and the bus dropped us off at the Ft Lauderdale airport at 1:30, so we had some time to kill. I read some and then got the laptop out to check emails. That is when I discovered that the seemingly harmless drop of the computer case when we were getting off the bus resulted in a cracked screen. Damn! It still worked, but I couldn’t look at the upper left quadrant of any maximized page. So I reduced the size and started researching how to replace the screen. Another story for another day.
We also tracked down a coffee place where we bought some not-very-good and outrageously expensive coffee and pastries. And we played some cards, napped a bit and watched lots of sunburned folks (like me) getting ready to go back to their real lives.
Our uneventful flight back to Providence deposited us – at midnight – into rainy 38-degree New England “welcome back, sucker” weather. Great to be back.
Yeah.
Airboat
Gator on the hoof
“You guys don’t do shit around here”
We have had a brutal winter here in New England. Record cold, record snow. I have spent countless hours shoveling the driveway and the sidewalks. And once, early in the winter, I shoveled the street in front of my house, to make room for someone – a guest or a neighbor – who might need a place to park. I gave up on that after the third 2-foot storm. It just got to be too much, with no obvious benefit to me.
Meanwhile, my across-the-street neighbor, who has a pickup truck with a small plow, carved out a space in front of my next-door neighbor’s house. He also did not keep up with the snow, but was able to 4-wheel over the ice to park there. However, because of the shoddy plowing job, his car jutted out into our narrow street, creating a hazard. I would not have been able to get my truck past his truck, should I have chosen to drive it rather than leaving it parked in the driveway. But, more to the point, there was no way a fire engine could have made it down the street.
But I didn’t say anything.
Last Friday we were visited by Jett’s two sisters. When I arrived home from work I found their car in the driveway. I looked for a spot on the back street, but, finding none there, decided to park in the empty space semi-cleared by my neighbor.
In Boston proper, it is a time-honored tradition that he who shovels out a parking space “owns” the space for some period of time – typically two weeks. Ownership is claimed by putting a “space saver” – a chair, small table or traffic cones – in the space. Those who ignore this ownership marker risk having their vehicle vandalized.
But even Boston limits this quasi-private ownership of public space. Making allowances for the extremely harsh winter, Boston allowed these space-savers to remain in place nearly a month. But about two weeks ago the city announced that space-savers were verboten and would be collected by the DPW.
I have rarely seen any space-savers in use in my suburban town, primarily, I think, because space is not so precious. My neighbor never used a space-saver and, in any case, the few seconds it took him to carve out the space with his plow hardly earned him any ownership rights. The question, in my mind, was why he didn’t carve out a few more since it was so easy.
Anyway, back to Friday. As Jett, her sisters and I were discussing take-out options, we got a knock on our door. Jett answered. It was our neighbor, whom we have never met, who introduced himself by saying “You are parked in my spot!” Jett was taken aback, but stood her ground, bless her heart. She denied that he had any right to the public space. But he asserted that it was “his.” Jett fetched me.
To me – without bothering to introduce himself – he again belligerently asserted his ownership of the space. I said “Are you serious?” – not quite believing that anyone could seriously be claiming ownership after such a long time. He said that he had “dug out the spot” (a small lie since he had done no digging at all), then, without even waiting for my response, said “You guys don’t do shit around here.”
I was stunned. And furious. After all, I had cleared my sidewalk after every storm (which is more than some on the street could claim) and have worked diligently at keeping the property looking good. Who was this guy and what was he talking about? Didn’t matter, really. As he stomped down my front steps I followed him, cursing him along the way.
I had planned to find another space after leaving to get the take-out, but as I watched him rearrange the cars in his driveway (yes, he could have parked off-street but was too lazy to move the cars around), I lost whatever vestige of sympathy remained.
When I came back with the food, I parked again in the disputed spot.
I may go out and clear it a bit more. Then put down a space-saver.
Jerk.