First off – does anybody know if walking sticks (the insect, not the walking aid) have stomachs? Zelma and I are wondering.
Secondly – do you have any idea of how hard it is to sleep when you’re on a boat that has to force its way through 170 miles of solid ice? The Archipelago Sea is frozen solid. Usually that’s fun because you can walk and skate and ski and drive on the ice. The first time I ever drove a car I did it on the frozen sea. It was actually very practical – I was more worried about drowning than I was about how to work the clutch properly and when to shift gears.
But I digress. The sea is frozen and when a huge steel monstrosity is forcing its way through the ice, it sounds like, well, it sounds like hundreds of thousands of pounds of steel forcing its way through solid ice. It is impossible to sleep in a cramped little cabin while listening to the boat doing its own impression of Titanic, over and over again. The no sleep deal made Zelma and me a little tired. And when you’re tired, you start thinking about weird stuff. Like locating the nearest exit in case of the ship actually perfecting its performance of Titanic’s last moments.
Luckily, Zelma had very elaborate emergency plans, which, coincidentally, almost never coincided with the official emergency plans. Her plans included, but weren’t limited to, hanging in chandeliers and railings when the boat tipped over and then jumping away on ice blocks to reach the floating emergency phones. The fact that floating emergency phones don’t actually exist didn’t seem to deter her. She also laughed her ass off at my emergency plan and told me I’d be mangled by huge blocks of ice and, oddly enough, crushed to death by a falling trash can. I’ve known Zelma all my life and yet I had no idea she had such in-depth knowledge of how to survive on a sinking ship. She says she learned everything she knows from the movie Titanic, but I think she’s taken it a little too far. At one point she was staring at the ceiling and murmuring to herself: “Yeah… The ceiling is definitely the only way to save ourselves…”
In other news, Zelma also developed magical powers during the cruise. She simply spoke the words “I bet someone is going to fall down these stairs soon.” And lo and behold, a little boy immediately came tumbling down the stairs and landed at our feet. I think he knew it was Zelma’s fault because he looked at her like she’d just pushed him down the stairs.
Most of the cruise we spent eating and drinking. I had lots of wine and even more food. The cheesecake was to die for. And I almost did. I think I might have had a small heart attack when I forced that last bite down. And in the restaurant there was a guy walking around, singing ‘O Sole Mio while wearing a fat suit dressed as a chef. Walt Disney himself couldn’t have done it better.
You know how they say that you’ll always hear the truth from children and retarded people? Yeah, well I don’t know what this says about Zelma and me, but we were stoned by a 2-year old. And not get-high-on-weed stoned either, but proper let-he-who-is-without-sin-cast-the-first-stone stoned. His follow-through wasn’t great, though. We survived. The kid should probably have used something bigger than pebbles to get the job done.
All in all it was a pretty uneventful cruise. We saw a little boy on girl action. A little boy on boy action. A LOT of girl on girl action. Fucking Line held true to its reputation and love was in the air.
Happy Valentine’s Day! *