The regular guy and the cruise ship

Once upon a time there was a guy. Not a handsome prince, as a matter of actual fact, not any kind of a prince at all. A guy who preferred cold cereal to quails eggs and who would always forego pheasant in favor of a cheeseburger. This guy, in the parlance of his modern times, was called a Regular Guy. Having no princely servants at his beck and call, he was accustomed to doing things for himself. Even more, he was accustomed to doing rather than biding. Among his family and friends, he was widely regarded as one unskilled at leisure.

The guy’s holidays were more likely than not self-reliant journeys on sailboats that he would skipper with his family or friends as crew. Voyages to isolated islands reached by dint of their own navigation, sail handling, anchoring, provisioning, cooking and exploration. Voyages, in short, of self-determined freedom.

But then one day as it happened, the guy’s wife implored him to depart from their usual custom and join his mother-in-law aboard a luxurious cruise ship for a passage to Central America and through the Panama Canal. The regular guy was loathe to assent to this entreaty. In his heart of hearts, he feared the tales of the unknowns that awaited foolhardy souls who ventured forth on the high seas aboard sparkling white seagoing hotels. He had heard the unnerving sagas of sun-drenched lounge chairs, blood-curdling tales of sumptuous feasts served round-the-clock, and the most horrific terror of all, the terror that tests even the most fearless old salts—even those intrepid enough to dare the regions on the charts that read, “Here there be dragons”—the terror of having every whim catered to hand and foot, mind, body and spirit—by other people: stewards, waiters, chefs, seamen, maitre d’, entertainers, bartenders, custodians, concierges, musicians, bus boys, pool boys, and a maintenance crew who put any problem to right before one hangs up the telephone. All these others catering to a Regular Guy?

“What will I have to do,” he wondered.
Despite the terrors, and because of his love for her who is his wife, he agreed. Regular Guy boarded the ship with wife and mother-in-law in sun-soaked Acapulco, leaving behind its streets teeming with VW Beetles and its hundreds of hormone-saturated spring breakers wildly celebrating the most primal of urges. As they entered the carpeted, mahogany lobby of the ship, they were greeted by a liveried waitress with a gracious “Welcome Aboard!” and handed a flute of champagne with a whole strawberry resting on the flute’s sea bottom. Ushered to their stateroom where their luggage— not their sea bags—already awaited them, they entered the spotless, air-conditioned room with its king-size bed, closets, wooden desk, flat screen television, fruit basket, plush robes, and wonder of wonders, a real bathroom, not a sailboat’s tiny head. Regular Guy opened the drapes, drew open the sliding glass door and stepped out onto their terrace with its outdoor table and chairs.

He looked down along the hull of the ship to the water. In his sailing experience, the water coursed by three or four feet below his deck. But here, it lay some 70 feet away. Oh, brave new world, he thought. As he watched deckhands and dockhands cast off the mighty hawsers without his lifting a finger, an air horn blew and the 30,000 ton, 700-foot long ship slipped away from the pier and pointed its bow toward the open sea. Unlike their previous voyages, he wasn’t at the helm, and his wife wasn’t casting off docklines. They were, well, just watching and the vessel managed perfectly fine without them. Regular Guy wasn’t monitoring engine gauges, hadn’t turned on navigation instruments, he hadn’t hoisted any sails, and yet off they went. Surreal.

When dinnertime arrived, Linda didn’t go below to their tiny galley to cook. She simply changed into a pretty outfit and together she and Regular Guy walked to a spacious restaurant with impeccable table linens graced with flowers, fully appointed place settings, and not one, but two joyful, charming waiters: Augusto from Columbia and Parianta from Indonesia. The menu offered a variety of soups, salads, appetizers, entrees, beverages and desserts with enough breadth to satisfy the most discriminating palate and as delicious as served in any fine restaurant. True, Regular Guy and his wife weren’t relaxing at anchor in their sailboat’s cockpit, dining in blissful solitude under the stars, but there was much to be said for this fantasy-land alternative. And neither of them had to do the washing up.

The population aboard ship is what intrigued Regular Guy most of all. While the majority of the passengers carried US passports, German travelers made up the second largest group, followed by British, Dutch, Swiss, Australians and a smattering of South Americans. The crew, captained by a Greek skipper, hailed from 80 different countries of the world. Every age group also flew their flags, from children under 10 to voyagers over 80 and everyone in between. The multi-national, multi-generational assemblage inspired wonderfully fascinating conversations everywhere aboard, from poolside to dinner table, from bars to buffets, from the library to the lounges. The diversity spanned so wide a range that Regular Guy could imagine being on board a starship from Earth setting forth across the galaxy to colonize a new world with carefully selected people from all cultures and life experiences.

A relaxing, two-week vacation aboard a sailboat may cover about 400 miles of the New England coast with stops at islands, seaside towns and anchorages. The cruise ship traversed more than 3,000 miles with stops in Mexico, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama, Guatemala, an idyllic Columbian island, Miami, a passage through the majestic Panama Canal, and journeyed from the leaping-dolphin-decorated Pacific to the crystalline turquoise Caribbean. The voyage afforded side-trips to ancient Mayan sites, white-water rafting, snorkeling on coral reefs, visits to banana and coffee plantations, performances of folklorico-style music and dance, jaunts to mountain villages, conversations with native Central Americans, shopping and more shopping. Shopping for beautiful locally hand-made jewelry, handsome crafts of exotic wood, leather, fabric, silver and jade, indigenous artwork and occasional feints to dodge vulgar t-shirts, cheesy souvenirs and an infinite array of valueless imported junk.

Aboard a sailboat, Regular Guy and his wife often read or listened to music or audiobooks for entertainment. Aboard the cruise ship they could choose from a live band, a small orchestra, solo singers and musicians, small-cast cabaret shows, a singing harpist in a cocktail lounge, dance nights, trivia contests and movies on the television in their stateroom. On one evening of dance, Regular Guy and his wife—not unlike Cinderella and the Prince—won the Twist contest, even though neither of them had ever Twisted on their sailboat.

But Regular Guy was a little sad. He missed the transcendent beauty of his white sails against a blue sky carrying a boat gracefully across the waves. He missed reading the sky, the wind on the water, his nautical charts and instruments for navigation. He missed the freedom of staying at or leaving a place on his own time and preference. Regular Guy missed the tranquility of snuggling with his wife alone at anchor as the reddening sun disappeared into the sea to allow a blanket of stars take their turn in the heavens. For, if a Magical Kingdom exists anywhere on Earth, it must surely be on the sea. But all in all, Regular Guy discovered that a bit of luxury and a bit of leisure ain’t so bad, and maybe —just maybe—life opens many possible paths to living happily ever after.

A freelance writer, three of Ed Lange’s plays were finalists for national Audie Awards, in 2000, ’05, and ’07, and one of the three won. His articles have appeared multiple times in national magazines: Sail, Soundings, American Theatre, and Dramatics.