Cruise Pt 3

Our first morning comes, and we’re at sea. We have tea and coffee on our little balcony and watch the sun come up. Life doesn’t get much better than this. This is my first real vacation in over 20 years. We decide to head for the pool first, and then pick a restaurant for dinner. We won’t be in Mexico until tomorrow, so we have a full day at sea.

Suzanne and I get comfortably ensconced poolside and have a coupla Mimosas. She’s got a novel; I’ve got a notebook to write all this stuff down in. This fat guy, I’m guessing on the generous side o’ 350 pounds goes lumbering by, a drink in each hand. He is wearing Speedos. (Dude. You are not doing that right) I tell Suzanne I want to look around, talk to some people, and take photos.

I head down to Deck 4, at the bottom of the ship. I want to see the Medical Center. I walk in and a nurse is at the desk. Her nametag says she’s from South Africa. (All the staff wears nametags that say their nationality) She’s Nurse Goodbody. A Major Babe. I feel better instantly! She asks how she can help me. I explain that I’m a journalist from New York and that this is my first cruise, and I’m writing about my experience. In spite of my outlandish appearance, this story is accepted without question all over the ship, and I am accorded the respect due the Fourth Estate.

I ask what kinds of medical issues get treated on the ship. “Everything from a sliver to a heart attack,” she says. There are two doctors on board. They have a full lab that can do any kind of blood work, and an X-Ray suite as well. I tell her I didn’t see a helipad on the ship; how would they get someone off in an emergency? She explains that a medevac chopper would come in, and a basket would be lowered while the copter hovered.

I thank her and she tells me to come back anytime.

Me =

I walk around looking at other areas of the ship. I want to see the art gallery, but there’s only a few easels set up; they’re still unpacking the art and setting things up. I look at some of the few items on display; original oils. I look closer. They are signed ‘Max’. I see one of the fellows unpacking art from the vault and I ask him “Is this Peter Max?”

He assures me in a suave British voice that these paintings are indeed by Peter Max, who was part of the psychedelic art movement in the ‘60’s. He apologizes for the gallery not being set up fully and invites me back later to see their Old Masters. I thank him and tell him I certainly will be back later. I’m astonished… whatever I thought I’d see didn’t include this. I note 4 small framed pieces on the wall and go to look at them. They are original Rembrandt etchings. (I know a little about this stuff) They will hold an art auction on the ship every single day. Suzanne and I stop back before dinner and check everything that’s out so far. They are auctioning a Picasso from 1936, and have work by Joan Miró as well.

They have original cell animation art from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves; also Wile E. Coyote and Charlie Brown and Snoopy. I stop by to watch the auctions and see forests of bids going in, and people carrying large wrapped framed art to their cabins.

Behind the reception desk on the ship is an oil by Vincent Van Gogh; it is not for sale. It’s on loan from the Chairman’s personal art collection.

Me =