The inadvertent blog hiatus was brought to you via the MSC cruise line, because I was trapped—I mean vacationing—aboard the Divina for a few days. I left for this trip feeling apprehensive and unsettled about cruising, and I came back convinced I’m some sort of freak.
See, before we went, 100% of the people I mentioned this cruise to reacted with joy and envy. “You’re going to LOVE it,” they said. “Wish I was going with you,” they said. “This is going to be the best vacation you’ve ever had,” they said.
So I relaxed fractionally and decided that so many happy cruise passengers can’t be wrong. It’s going to be great. I’m going to have lots of time to unwind and plan my upcoming semester and generally be happy and festive.
Now I am forced to believe that I am the only person in the history of the world who hates, and I mean viscerally hates cruise ships, cruising, and oceanic voyages in general. I feel terrible about this. My Beloved’s mother has longed for the whole family to take a cruise together, and I have been the holdup. Everyone was so in hopes that I’d love it, opening the door for us all to go together.
Unfortunately, my imagination kept getting in the way. Even when the seas were calm and the sun was shining, all I could think of was the band on the Titanic playing
“Nearer My God to Thee.” In our case, of course, since this was JamCruise, the band belonged to Bootsy Collins, and it was playing “Night of the Thumpasaurus People,” but it’s the same thing.
So I have composed a letter to everyone that reads thusly:
Dear Cruising Family:
Thank you for your kind invitation to join you in venturing out into the hostile environment of the ocean in search of relaxation and weight gain. I truly am grateful for the love and generosity you have shown me throughout the years, and trust this will continue when I tell you that I would prefer to stay home and babysit a room full of three-year-olds who have been drinking coffee and eating marshmallow rabbits all morning.
I am just not cut out for cruises. I have seen both The Poseidon Adventure, and most of Titanic, and they are all I can think of when we are out of sight of land. In fact, I know pretty much exactly how far it is to land all the time—about three miles straight down—and I do not find this comforting. I can achieve the same level of relaxation that I had on our cruise if I stay at home and prep for a colonoscopy, so I regret to say that this is what I will do in the future.
Having said this, I quite like the ship, and would be perfectly happy staying on it, provided it never moves out of the harbor. I believe this kind of boat is called a “hotel,” and if you’d like to take a family jaunt to one of those, I am absolutely on board with that.
Love and hugs,