6:30 AM, once again I'm ripped out of a deep slumber by Medusa's shriek. No, it isn't that giant purple gorilla that was trying to eat me in my dream...no, it's just the phone's ring...phone...next to the bed...room's dark, why? Dark, inside....inside a room...on a ship....on the Disney Cruise, ok...where's the phone? By the night stand...OW that's an elbow in my ribs, ok ok I'm up...“We sure are glad you're here, heh-huh! There's plenty to do, so let's get started!” There are certain aspects of the Disney cruise I don't tell my guy friends about; the wake up call is one of them.
I roll out of bed, and right on schedule, the continental breakfast (from the door hanger I placed outside the night before) arrives. Coffee...must have coffee. We scarf down our simple breakfast of fruit and English muffins, then it's off to Vista Spa for our 8am massage. There isn't much to relay about this; it was largely the same as the one given on the 4-night. Rae and Claudia, the masseuses, took good care of us, and weren't too pushy in the sales pitch at the end. Not bad at all, and a great way to start my vacation.
Afterwards, it's back to the room to shower and change for Palo brunch. When all of our party finally arrives, we are seated and introduced to Carmen from Romania. Here's a question: Why are all the Palo waitresses from Romania? The one we had on the 4-night, and Corina, our Palo waitress-to-be on Thursday night, would turn out to be Romanian as well. Weird.
Ok, so we did the brunch last cruise, and it didn't disappoint this time, either. My first impression is the Food, Jerry, food! The specialty on this occasion was seafood, with plenty of shrimp, salmon, oysters and other assorted yummies. My favorites included the hummus and the garlic-flavored mushy cheese. She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I split one of the sausage pizzas. Overrated, sorry. It was good, yes, but no different from your average fire-baked pizza from Cosi. Carmen recommended a cranberry champagne that was perfect; not too sweet, and complemented all of the cheese and light meats in the meal. Yum.
After a few-too-many trips to the buffet (we skipped entrees; there was too much good stuff on the tables), including some German dish that featured a marble-swirled bread, strawberry jam and whipped cream (again, greater than the sum of its parts), it's time for the dessert table. True to form, we take roughly one of everything. Highlights included a chocolate crème brule, and something in a slender glass with amaretto and/or rum in it. Excellent.
Alright enough about the food, somebody whistle for the Oompa-Loompas, because this kid is getting rolled home like Violet. We take a few laps around the deck just to get a look-see at the ocean around us, then it was back to the room to change into swimsuits for suntanning.
Thanks to online research, we learned about the secret sunning area on deck 7 aft, so that was our next destination. On the way, I saw several festively decorated doors (yes, you people are insane). Notable ones: “Two Cool Grandma's live here,” (complete with superfluous apostrophe); and of course, the “Welcome Home” magnet for the suckers who threw their money awa...er, DVC members (our Castaway Club magnet was the only way I could remember which room was ours).
So we shoot back to the super-secret sun deck, and the first thing I notice (other than the wind..wow, gale-force) is...what's that sound? Oh yeah, quiet. No screaming children. No ridiculous Caribbean music (it has its place, I'll grant). Nothing but the soft chopping of the ship in the wake, and the warm wind across my face. Yeah, I could live like this for a few years. Only disadvantage: you can't hear the announcements on the PA system...probably just as well, though; I didn't need any more Ch-r-r-r-istian in my life.
After a solid 30-40 minutes of peace and quiet, it was time to change and head to Diversions for the NFC Championship game.
I got there about 15 minutes before kickoff, and couple of FMs had saved excellent seats for the other members of the grunting class. First off, the Brewmaster on this cruise was great; very laid back, normal-looking guy, who handed out “bad call balls” (ping pong balls with “bad call” written on them in Magic Marker), and patrons were encouraged to throw them at the projection screen after the zebras showed a lack in judgment. I forgot his name, but he was a definite improvement over the juiced-up 'roid monkey who called himself Brewmaster on the 4-night Wonder.
That time, I had the audacity to mention that Michael Vick was, well, a pretty bad quarterback, and promptly received an earful on the matter. I can understand the confusion: apparently, I watch football, and he, uh, doesn't.
Anyway, the guy on this cruise was great; he was prompt to send the waiters over to take our orders, and mostly left us alone. We grabbed some great seats in the front, and settled in for some gridiron (Rich Pupura, the magician from the night before, sat in our row and made good conversation...even if he was a Bears fan). Halfway through the first quarter, I ordered two glasses of Johnny Walker Blue for me and P2, and we sipped our liquid silk while watching the football follies. Quality male bonding.
I can't remember when we threw our bad call balls – either the Colston non-fumble (his knee was down) or the Brees non-interception (tuck rule, anyone?). Both calls were pretty horrible; all I remember is I waited for the ref's face to be on the screen before it was bombs away. The quarter ended on whichever play, and we filed out at the whistle to wedge into our penguin suits.
Tonight was formal night at Parrot Cay, and we were dressed to impress...call it the prom we never had together. Anyway, the food was wonderful, and even Glendine and Mikey were dressed to the nines. After dinner (either lamb or filet, I can't remember which), we got some great pictures of the two of us, as well as one with me, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and my immediate family. This was important, as the formal night picture from the 4-night was slightly disappointing; the photographer thought it'd be a good idea to allow the moon on the backdrop to line up juuust right, such that it looks like I'm wearing a yarmulke in the photo. Thanks, man.
We have enough time to take a casual stroll around Deck 4 (my favorite thing to do on the boat, other than the Rainforest, I've decided), lounge on the padded chaises for a bit, then change into casual clothes for the Golden Mickeys. I had already seen the production on the 4-night, so while I wasn't ecstatic about the prospect, I knew what I was getting into.
Golden Mickeys Review:
I don't really have much to report about it, except that I remember two moments of clarity during and immediately after the show:
First, you know the short clip where the actor with the conveniently androgynous name interacts with the video-taped image of Roy E. Disney? Well, what happens when Roy E. kicks the bucket? Do they scrap the show entirely? Do they re-film it with Iger or Eisner instead? Or do they morbidly keep it going, pretending he's still alive like they do with Kim Il Sung in North Korea? And, honestly, would you know the difference if they did?
Speaking of Roy E., how come he gets to be famous for something his dad and uncle did? I know, I know, he's “head of animation,” or whatever. But what makes you think he'd automatically learn the talent from his relative? Hasn't the Eli Manning Experiment shown us that talent and ability are in no way genetic? Is Roy E. Disney the Paris Hilton of my parents' generation (without the home videos and illegal drug use)? To borrow George Carlin: Thoughts like these kept me out of the really good schools.
Second thought: They have the Golden Mickey statues for sale in the higher-end shop (Treasure Ketch...how cheesily funny) But seriously, I have to ask: Who'd buy a Golden Mickey Statue? For $30.00? Really? Can I interest you in, say, the Rainforest 7-day pass for $15 more? I promise you'll get more out of it, and you'll get fewer surprised stares from the woman at the checkout counter. You see, it's nice and all, but that 30 bucks could feed her entire village in Romania for a week, and you're blowing it on a pretty lame statue from an even more lame stage production on a cruise boat...I'm just sayin'.
Ok, so the Golden Mickeys are a wrap, and most parents are carting their bleary-eyed kids off to bed. Good, I'm pumped and full of energy after our relaxing afternoon and morning massage, so She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and I saunter down toward Rockin' Bar D for the Golden Mickeys After-Party with Rich Pupura (the magician from the first night). We figured we had some time to kill, could duck in for the end of the AFC Championship game, and even if it was full, we could drink another Drink-of-the-Day and watch the pre-show. Well, therein, as the Bard will tell us, lies the rub.
The band NTWINE was the opening show, as they would be for the rest of the cruise...a 6-person band featuring one male and two female singers, a drummer, a guitarist, and a keyboardist. They would become the insufferable, festering boil in my vacation; remember that scene in Terminator, when the robot has its legs blown off, and still it keeps coming? Yeah, that's NTWINE. P2 surmised that he'd seen a similar band on Hill 55 back in Vietnam...in fact, says he, it's probably the same band. Really, they're just a classic example of people who try too hard. Both female singers were talented enough (the guy made William Hung look like Liberace), but the volume...oh, the horror. Apparently, the key to masking a band's obvious lack of talent is to TURN UP THE VOLUME ALL THE WAY. Apparently, this makes your band better...at least, that was NTWINE's theory.
They couldn't get off the stage fast enough, and here comes Rich Pupura. Two words to describe his act: freakin' hilarious. He pokes fun at the audience members, performs some pretty entertaining magic tricks (the animal crackers bit was classic), and introduces me to, really the oft-repeated funniest line on the cruise: “Oh, please, if I was any good I'd be on land.” Almost all of the comedians said it, and it never stopped being hilarious.
After this show, we hit the midnight buffet just outside Rockin' Bar D (as if we hadn't already eaten enough so far), and it's off to bed. I plan to get up in the morning to hit the gym, since at this point I'm averaging 2.5 desserts per meal, and really need to maintain my girlish figure. This time we get a towelgami in the shape of a peacock (or turkey, depending on whom you ask), made of the towel and blanket. For the third time, I'm out as soon as the lights are. Gnight.
Next up: Day 3 (At Sea 2); won't be nearly as long as this entry.
