QuietLion
Jul 12, 02, 2:39 pm
Stand Clear of Claim Device
Tabbycat had been invited by New York New York Hotel and Casino Las Vegas to go on a complimentary Mexican Cruise aboard Grandeur of the Seas so I called my host there and asked if I could get in on the deal. A couple weekends playing in their high-limit slot room and the answer was a resounding yes. Hunnybear had to stay home and mastermind a multi-million dollar aviation deal so I gave her a passionate belly-hug goodbye and packed up for the weeklong excursion.
I arrived at the Southwest Airlines counter at McCarran airport in Las Vegas at 10:14 for the 12:15 flight to San Diego. I asked about group checkin but there wasn’t one so I just got in the long, snaking line, which moved quickly. I got to the front in a little over 10 minutes and a friendly, professional agent checked me in and signed me up for Rapid Rewards. I had been signed up for it before but when I didn’t fly again on Southwest for 10 years they apparently canceled my membership. I checked my deteriorating Andiamo whale and proceeded to the gate, still not seeing anyone else from the group.
There was no line at Terminal C security so I took my laptop out of my Brenthaven, replacing it with pocket crap, sent my stuff through the x-ray, and swapped them back. The tram got me to Terminal C about 40 minutes after I had arrived at the airport. There I saw Marissa, a Vegas local I knew from past casino events. She went to get something to eat so I played a little Double Red White and Blue with the quarters I had in my pocket but the cheating ******* machine took all my money.
Southwest Airlines had double checkin so I waited in another short line at gate C-4 behind a young blonde with enormous fake breasts heading home after working the busy holiday weekend in Vegas. The friendly and professional agent started to ask me the security questions again but I told her I had already answered them for the other nice lady at the other checkin. “Oh,” she said, looking at the large red stamp on my ticket. “I didn’t see the stamp.” Although it was only 10 minutes into boarding I was too late to get the vaunted A boarding pass and ended up with a B.
I hung out with Marissa and her girlfriend Dean awhile and then Southwest announced our flight was moving to gate C-5 so we all moved over there. I recognized lots of other players and casino personnel now, including my host from New York New York whose name was spelled “Shuna” but pronounced Shauna because the lack of an “a” was silent.
Despite being in the hated “B” group I got a nice aisle seat in row six. The stripper who had been in line before me sat down across the aisle, naturally gravitating to some ineluctable quality in me, and the middle seat between the scowling gentleman in 6A and me miraculously remained vacant when they closed the door and pushed back.
Flight 2029 departed on time. The friendly professional flight attendant served peanuts and drinks and 45 minutes later we were on the ground in San Diego. Baggage claim was right where it should have been and as I was pondering a sign that said, “Warning Please Stand Clear of Claim Device,” my Andiamo whale came off in the first few bags. I tagged it with a cruise label and a nearby porter put it on a trolley for me. I called Tabbycat to see what progress he was making by car and he told me he was in Oceanside, about a half-hour away. The bus took us to the port, where Grandeur of the Seas sat by herself awaiting our arrival.
We all had to show IDs to enter the cruise terminal because the terrorism but they hadn’t yet got to the point of making us remove laptops before x-raying our bags yet. This snaking line was a half-hour and didn’t move quite as fast as the Southwest ones. I enviously eyed the empty Platinum and Diamond line. Only three more cruises on Royal Caribbean, I thought, and I go right over there.
I got to the front and a friendly and professional agent checked me in. I asked about an upgrade but it was not possible. She suggested I check with the purser inside nonetheless. I told her this was my twenty-first cruise and on the first twenty I had checked with the purser about an upgrade and it was never possible. “Who do I have to grease?” I asked, but she didn’t know. I explained to her that cruise-line loyalty programs were a joke and the first line to actually reward frequent guests with real upgrades, for instance, was going to have a huge advantage.
I got my cruise card and got my security photo snapped before boarding. On Princess, uniformed employees escorted arriving passengers to their cabins. On Royal Caribbean, you walked on board and found your own way. That wasn’t a problem for me. I walked up two flights of stairs and headed toward the bow where my outside cabin was just where it should have been. I dumped my Brenthaven laptop bag and went up to explore the ship.
Tabbycat called to say he had arrived and was circling the area looking for cheap parking. The Grandeur was smaller than the mega-ships I had been on recently but it felt more like being on a ship and less like being in a hotel. I found the casino and did a quick pass through, finding several interesting slot machines although of course nothing would be turned on until an hour after sailing. It was time to eat so I went up to the buffet and had some unappetizing standard buffet fare.
Tabbycat arrived and breezed through the line in ten minutes. I met him at his cabin, which was a nice balcony minisuite since he had played more than I had at New York New York. I offered to show him my favorite place on the ship so we went up to the Crown Viking lounge and got the two seats directly facing the bow.
It was time for the mandatory lifeboat drill so we hid in Tabbycat’s cabin and played with some puzzles he had brought with him until the heat was off and then we sprinted back up to the Crown Viking Lounge to grab the best seats again for sailing. We noticed part of the room was roped off for a private party. Tabbycat said if anybody deserved a private party it was we but there was no indication what group it was for. At 5:05 the ship’s whistle sounded and we set sail for Cabo San Lucas.
I called Hunnybear for a final au revoir and Tabbycat and I watched the ship sail out of San Diego’s harbor. At 6:01 I suggested we head down to the casino since it would open exactly one hour after sailing and as we walked in the lights came on and the machines started chiming and singing. Tabbycat was impressed. We found a couple of the old-style Piggy Bankin’ games with decent size banks and played them a bit but ended up in the red. We checked the video poker and found pay schedules so low we had never seen them before.
We ran into our hosts from New York New York who informed us the private party really was for us so we went back up and had some high-fat hot appetizers along with a choice of margaritas, yellow birds, or Bahama mamas. Marissa and Dean joined us, along with brother and sister Michael and Michelle from New Jersey. The ship’s casino management greeted us all in a receiving line, including Richard, the casino manager whom I remembered from cruising Rhapsody of the Seas, where Hunnybear and I met Arnie the Compmeister and his brother Gary.
It was time to change for dinner so I went down and unpacked my luggage and threw on a pair of slacks. I had been assigned a nice corner window table but it turned out our party had the whole corner of the dining room so we could just sit anywhere. I kept my seat and was joined by Tabbycat, Marissa and Dean, and Michael and Michelle. Robertas, our Lithuanian waiter, recommended the tomato soup, spinach salad, and cod, which I of course ordered. The soup was the highlight and the fish wasn’t bad either, although cod was not my favorite. We had a nice bottle of Laurene Valley Oregon Pinot Noir with dinner for $24 plus autograt. As a rule I don’t eat dessert but they had the rum-soaked yeast cake so I had just one piece with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
I passed through the casino and dropped another $20 in an enticing Piggy before retiring to the cabin to be rocked to sleep. In 20 cruises I had never before encountered the situation in which I now found myself: a spotlight attached to the exterior of the ship shone directly into my window and no arranging of the drapes could keep the bright light from illuminating the head of my bed. I made it as dark as I could and got to sleep without much trouble.
Disgustingly good chocolates
Monday was a day at sea. The casino wasn’t open yet so I flipped on the TV and tried to find something. They had three different CNN channels but none of them were working at the moment and The Count of Monte Cristo was on in five different languages, none of them English. So I fooled around with Monkeyboy awhile and then went up to the casino at ten when it opened. I played a few piggies and won back what I had lost last night.
Tabbycat showed up around 11:30 carrying a couple boxes of cereal. We hung out on his balcony doing puzzles until one and then went to the Great Gatsby dining room for lunch where we were seated at a round window table with a nice old lady and her mother who were just finishing up. Tabbycat asked our Turkish waiter for recommendations but he said everything was good. “I have a policy of ordering all three soups,” said Tabbycat. Our waiter said, “Good for you.” I ordered only one soup, the Pistou French vegetable soup, and the Caribbean chicken curry. Both were nice. “Where are you from?” asked our Turkish waiter. “Southern California,” I said. “The south of California?” said our waiter. “Good for you.” As a rule I don’t eat dessert but they had Boston cream pie so I had just one slice with a scoop of vanilla fudge ice cream.
After lunch Tabbycat and I went to the Schooner Bar to play in the cruise’s first trivia challenge. We won a squeaker thanks to the nice mother and daughter on our team who knew a song from “Les Miserables.” The prizes were Royal Caribbean logoed waterproof swimming wallets. Riding high, we went topside to play a little shuffleboard but rotten kids had taken all the courts. We resisted the temptation to throw a couple of them overboard and instead waited for them to get bored, about two minutes. Playing on a rocking ship with light plastic pucks turned out to be challenging but I managed to squeak by Tabbycat to prevail in the match. Marissa and Dean came by and we chose up sides for a team match, which ended in a scoreless tie thanks to my perfect shot into 10 off in the last round.
I went back to the casino and played the X-Factor to make another $20. I retired for the moment on my winnings just as Tabbycat found me and we returned to his cabin to have a drink before changing for formal night.
I didn’t bother to bring my tuxedo on this cruise since in my experience few wore them on Mexican itineraries. Sure enough, the only one I saw was worn by Gil, another NYNY customer, and his was comped by the ship because his luggage still hadn’t shown up. I headed for the captain’s cocktail party and discovered the piano bar, once my favorite cruise hangout but on my last six cruises the ships didn’t have one. I settled into a bar stool and Roxanne, the virtuoso singer-pianist, introduced herself and asked what I liked. “Anything by Cole Porter,” I said automatically. Usually when I say this the piano player segues right into “Night and Day” but Roxanne led off with the appropriate title song from Porter’s shipboard comedy musical, “Anything Goes.” Then she played “Night and Day.”
The doors opened to the captain’s cocktail party so Tabbycat and I went in and grabbed a couple of vodka martinis. The captain started talking so we headed out and grabbed our favorite seats in the dining room. Soon we were joined by Michael and Michelle and Marissa and Dean, all dressed smartly and Marissa looking lovely in a sparkly gown. Robertas waited on us again and recommended the mushroom appetizer, the Caesar salad, and the filet mignon, which I ordered along with an awful lobster bisque. Robertas avoided saying, “I told you so,” and the rest of the meal was nice. Tabbycat and I shared a phenomenal 1996 Beringer Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon for a very reasonable $98 plus autograt.
The babysitting crew chose the formal dinner as an opportunity to bring the little darlings into the dining room for a 10-minute call-and-response pirate routine complete with a bandana-wearing counselor with a squeaky megaphone. Finally they left. As a rule I don’t eat dessert but it was Cherries Jubilee night so I had just one order along with a round of B-52 shooters courtesy of Marissa.
After dinner Tabbycat and I returned to Roxanne’s piano bar. Tabbycat sat in and played two exquisite classical pieces while a group of five ships officers had a loud conversation at the next table, ignoring the music. Tabbycat went off to party while I stayed and listened to Roxanne play Cole Porter till midnight along with the one other guy in a tuxedo. I wondered if the ship had lost his luggage along with Gil’s.
When Roxanne finished her set I put a generous tip in her snifter and headed back to the casino. No machines were calling my name but as a Gold Member of the Crown and Anchor Society I deserved a funbook with two casino coupons worth a total of almost $4.50. I won with my roulette match-play coupon but I fed the $12-for-$10 into the quarter pushed and the cheating ******* machine took all my money. I was about to head back to the cabin to retire when I saw waiters carrying around trays. I had forgotten Royal Caribbean celebrated midnight in the casino by passing around disgustingly good chocolates so I had just one and then went off to bed. The spotlight was still shining into my window but the rock-rock-rocking of the ship lulled me quickly to sleep.
Wonder bread
Tuesday we docked in Cabo San Lucas, at the lower tip of Baja California. This port was the site of my favorite shore excursion, the snorkeling-and-drinking boat, but I had no energy to do much in the sizzling heat so I just stayed on board and watched movies: The Majestic, a well-acted but slow-moving ballad of lost identity and McCarthyism starring Jim Carrey, and The Rookie, an unoriginal and uneven but entertaining baseball movie starring Dennis Quaid. In between I had a nice lunch buffet in the Great Gatsby dining room. My cell phone was working so I called Hunnybear. By that time it was time to eat again so I went up to the Windjammer, where they had aloo palak and a variety of other delicacies. I ran into Suzanne and her daughter Linda from our group and hung out awhile before returning to my cabin to rest from all the eating. I rested so well I missed the trivia challenge.
We were scheduled to set sail at 5:15 so I called Tabbycat, who had returned from a day of four-wheeling, and agreed to meet up in the Crown Viking Lounge for martinis and caviar. I had a nice Absolut Citron martini in a turbulence-friendly glass. Tabbycat ordered an iced tea but it was not possible so he went down to the Windjammer and brought a couple glasses up. Being one of only two parties in the lounge, we loaded up on caviar canapés from the setup and scraped the caviar off the Wonder bread with our teeth as we watched the Grandeur sail east toward Mazatlan.
We made a quick visit to the casino and played a few slots before pausing at the piano bar to hear Roxanne play a couple favorites. It was time for dinner so we went down to the Great Gatsby and table-hopped over to the large table with more of our group from New York New York. The waitress here was Rose from Romania, who recommended the crab cake, the New England clam chowder, and the rack of lamb, all of which I ordered and all of which were good. As a rule I don’t eat dessert but they had my favorite Baked Alaska so I had just one piece.
After dinner we went up to the South Pacific lounge for karaoke. There was a nice mix of brave youths, terrible singers, and a couple good ones thrown in for credibility. After the karaoke broke up I went to the piano bar for a couple more Cole Porter favorites with Roxanne and then made a final pass through the casino, losing just a little on the quarter X-Factor machine before stuffing the drapes against the spotlight and rocking to sleep.
Generous cigar smokers
I awoke Wednesday to the sound of the Grandeur docking in Mazatlan. The AAA battery in my digital voice recorder had died but fortunately the well-prepared Tabbycat had a spare, which he generously gave me. We had a bite of breakfast in the Windjammer and hung out until the trivia challenge, which Tabbycat and I won handily against only one other team. The prizes were free bingo entries good for any session except the final, valuable one.
Tabbycat went to walk around Mazatlan, reliving his visit here 16 years ago. I stayed on the ship and relaxed and ate. A Japanese violinist, part of a string quartet playing afternoon melodies in the Centrum, rocked out to “Tequila.” I tried to watch Big Fat Liar but it had started early on the ship’s TV so I didn’t.
Tonight was the vaunted past-passenger party. I took Tabbycat as my guest and we settled into a corner table with Marissa and Dean. I passed on a buffet of high-fat appetizers and also on the Pol Clément (not Roger) Champagne and instead ordered two complimentary manhattans from two different waiters. They arrived full strength and tided me through the obligatory game of “Who’s Cruised the Most.” The winner claimed 21 cruises with RCCL and received a bottle of Korbel.
I stopped by the purser’s desk to inquire about switching cabins due to the spotlight problem. Scott issued me a key to an identical room on the other side of the ship. This one had shorter drapes that fit into the window frame instead of hanging over but the spotlight still shone through. I couldn’t believe this wasn’t a frequent complaint but the purser’s assistants swore I was the first to be bothered by it.
Dinner tonight was quite nice. I had a fine tortilla soup, avocado with crabmeat, and a yummy chicken ancho at the recommendation of Rose, our Romanian waitress. With dinner Tabbycat and I shared a nice bottle of 1997 Barbaresco. As a rule I don’t eat dessert but they had rum cake so I had just one piece with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Tabbycat wanted to get his name in for karaoke so he didn’t wait and after dinner I returned to the purser’s desk. They offered me a lower-category cabin on deck 2 that didn’t have the light problem but the entire deck smelled of engine fumes, including inside the cabin, so I passed. I was toying with the idea of flying back to Vegas tomorrow anyway.
I had completely missed karaoke so I looked for Tabbycat in the cigar club, where he sat with Dan smoking fine cigars. They each offered me a couple puffs and I suggested we smoke outside so we retired to the Promenade Deck and enjoyed the hot breeze. Tabbycat commented on how generous cigar smokers were. I made a final pass through the casino and went to bed.
The man with the hat
Thursday morning we docked in Puerto Vallarta and I decided to fly back to Vegas for the weekend rather than sail back to San Diego with the ship. I ran into Gil, Bob and Carolyn up in the Windjammer. They had all been told you couldn’t leave the ship mid-cruise because the terrorism but I told the purser’s assistant of my plans and there was no problem at all. I filled out a couple Mexican immigration forms and packed. I tried to buy a ticket on America West’s web site but the site didn’t work properly with the ship’s version of Internet Explorer so I figured I’d just buy the ticket at the airport.
I took my bags via elevator to deck 1, where a ship’s officer asked if I was disembarking today. When I replied in the affirmative he wrote my name in a notebook and bid me farewell. I had been told to see Carlos ashore. The purser’s assistant said, “He’s the man with the hat.” I wheeled the bags down the gangway and found 50 men wearing hats. Eventually I found Carlos, who shook my hand and directed me to Miguel, his assistant. Miguel took me up a flight of stairs, into a small building, and down another flight of stairs where we loaded my bags into the back seat of his dirty silver Volkswagen and he drove me the five minutes to the airport after a brief stop for gas.
At the airport, Miguel took my papers to immigration and told me he would meet me at the America West ticket counter. A white-gloved officer searched my Andiamo whale while I watched and then I purchased a one-way ticket to Las Vegas via Phoenix. Miguel returned with my passport and said adios. I walked to gate B in the tiny airport, picked a seat, and waited an hour or so until boarding. No flights seemed to actually depart from gate B. Instead, shortly before the appointed time the gate changed to 6, just down a flight of stairs. When they announced First Class boarding I waited for one passenger to go ahead of me but they fooled me by having two screeners so I got searched and wanded.
I had seat 2A on the 15-year-old 737. The old leather seats had cracked and discolored LCD displays from back when America West had in-seat video games. The steward offered non-alcoholic pre-flight drinks as they had no liquor license for the ground. We pushed back 19 minutes early and soon we were aloft. Now alcoholic beverages were available. I resisted the temptation to say, “I’ll have whatever they’re drinking up in the cockpit,” and instead ordered water. My seat opponent, a middle-aged blonde who made no attempt to switch seats to be next to her husband in 1C, drank five Scotches. Drinks came in plastic cups and the meal service was foil-wrapped bags of trail mix on this two-hour-plus flight. There was a screaming baby in the bulkhead behind me but halfway through the flight he either quieted down or was killed.
We arrived in Phoenix 15 minutes early. It was necessary to clear U.S. Customs and Immigration there. The America West airport staff was very excited about Phoenix being a new international port of entry and made many announcements using one-syllable words to explain what we needed to do. I grabbed my bag off the belt and waltzed through customs without my usual discussion of Bill Gates.
It was about a mile walk to gate A9 and my connection to Las Vegas. I had time for a Jody Maroni chicken andouille sausage. There were no First Class seats on this leg but the nice gate agent found a roomy exit-row window for me. I had a glass of water in a plastic cup very similar to the one I had in First on the previous leg. Dodging thunderstorms, we made an unusual approach to the north and landed on time in Vegas. My limo driver was waiting for me so we collected my whale and she whisked me off, wishing me good luck. “Thank you very much,” I said as I gave her a generous tip. “I’ll need it.”
The end.
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I hope you enjoy my Lion Tales. For photos, past travelogues, subscriptions, and more, see www.liontales.com (http://www.liontales.com)
Tabbycat had been invited by New York New York Hotel and Casino Las Vegas to go on a complimentary Mexican Cruise aboard Grandeur of the Seas so I called my host there and asked if I could get in on the deal. A couple weekends playing in their high-limit slot room and the answer was a resounding yes. Hunnybear had to stay home and mastermind a multi-million dollar aviation deal so I gave her a passionate belly-hug goodbye and packed up for the weeklong excursion.
I arrived at the Southwest Airlines counter at McCarran airport in Las Vegas at 10:14 for the 12:15 flight to San Diego. I asked about group checkin but there wasn’t one so I just got in the long, snaking line, which moved quickly. I got to the front in a little over 10 minutes and a friendly, professional agent checked me in and signed me up for Rapid Rewards. I had been signed up for it before but when I didn’t fly again on Southwest for 10 years they apparently canceled my membership. I checked my deteriorating Andiamo whale and proceeded to the gate, still not seeing anyone else from the group.
There was no line at Terminal C security so I took my laptop out of my Brenthaven, replacing it with pocket crap, sent my stuff through the x-ray, and swapped them back. The tram got me to Terminal C about 40 minutes after I had arrived at the airport. There I saw Marissa, a Vegas local I knew from past casino events. She went to get something to eat so I played a little Double Red White and Blue with the quarters I had in my pocket but the cheating ******* machine took all my money.
Southwest Airlines had double checkin so I waited in another short line at gate C-4 behind a young blonde with enormous fake breasts heading home after working the busy holiday weekend in Vegas. The friendly and professional agent started to ask me the security questions again but I told her I had already answered them for the other nice lady at the other checkin. “Oh,” she said, looking at the large red stamp on my ticket. “I didn’t see the stamp.” Although it was only 10 minutes into boarding I was too late to get the vaunted A boarding pass and ended up with a B.
I hung out with Marissa and her girlfriend Dean awhile and then Southwest announced our flight was moving to gate C-5 so we all moved over there. I recognized lots of other players and casino personnel now, including my host from New York New York whose name was spelled “Shuna” but pronounced Shauna because the lack of an “a” was silent.
Despite being in the hated “B” group I got a nice aisle seat in row six. The stripper who had been in line before me sat down across the aisle, naturally gravitating to some ineluctable quality in me, and the middle seat between the scowling gentleman in 6A and me miraculously remained vacant when they closed the door and pushed back.
Flight 2029 departed on time. The friendly professional flight attendant served peanuts and drinks and 45 minutes later we were on the ground in San Diego. Baggage claim was right where it should have been and as I was pondering a sign that said, “Warning Please Stand Clear of Claim Device,” my Andiamo whale came off in the first few bags. I tagged it with a cruise label and a nearby porter put it on a trolley for me. I called Tabbycat to see what progress he was making by car and he told me he was in Oceanside, about a half-hour away. The bus took us to the port, where Grandeur of the Seas sat by herself awaiting our arrival.
We all had to show IDs to enter the cruise terminal because the terrorism but they hadn’t yet got to the point of making us remove laptops before x-raying our bags yet. This snaking line was a half-hour and didn’t move quite as fast as the Southwest ones. I enviously eyed the empty Platinum and Diamond line. Only three more cruises on Royal Caribbean, I thought, and I go right over there.
I got to the front and a friendly and professional agent checked me in. I asked about an upgrade but it was not possible. She suggested I check with the purser inside nonetheless. I told her this was my twenty-first cruise and on the first twenty I had checked with the purser about an upgrade and it was never possible. “Who do I have to grease?” I asked, but she didn’t know. I explained to her that cruise-line loyalty programs were a joke and the first line to actually reward frequent guests with real upgrades, for instance, was going to have a huge advantage.
I got my cruise card and got my security photo snapped before boarding. On Princess, uniformed employees escorted arriving passengers to their cabins. On Royal Caribbean, you walked on board and found your own way. That wasn’t a problem for me. I walked up two flights of stairs and headed toward the bow where my outside cabin was just where it should have been. I dumped my Brenthaven laptop bag and went up to explore the ship.
Tabbycat called to say he had arrived and was circling the area looking for cheap parking. The Grandeur was smaller than the mega-ships I had been on recently but it felt more like being on a ship and less like being in a hotel. I found the casino and did a quick pass through, finding several interesting slot machines although of course nothing would be turned on until an hour after sailing. It was time to eat so I went up to the buffet and had some unappetizing standard buffet fare.
Tabbycat arrived and breezed through the line in ten minutes. I met him at his cabin, which was a nice balcony minisuite since he had played more than I had at New York New York. I offered to show him my favorite place on the ship so we went up to the Crown Viking lounge and got the two seats directly facing the bow.
It was time for the mandatory lifeboat drill so we hid in Tabbycat’s cabin and played with some puzzles he had brought with him until the heat was off and then we sprinted back up to the Crown Viking Lounge to grab the best seats again for sailing. We noticed part of the room was roped off for a private party. Tabbycat said if anybody deserved a private party it was we but there was no indication what group it was for. At 5:05 the ship’s whistle sounded and we set sail for Cabo San Lucas.
I called Hunnybear for a final au revoir and Tabbycat and I watched the ship sail out of San Diego’s harbor. At 6:01 I suggested we head down to the casino since it would open exactly one hour after sailing and as we walked in the lights came on and the machines started chiming and singing. Tabbycat was impressed. We found a couple of the old-style Piggy Bankin’ games with decent size banks and played them a bit but ended up in the red. We checked the video poker and found pay schedules so low we had never seen them before.
We ran into our hosts from New York New York who informed us the private party really was for us so we went back up and had some high-fat hot appetizers along with a choice of margaritas, yellow birds, or Bahama mamas. Marissa and Dean joined us, along with brother and sister Michael and Michelle from New Jersey. The ship’s casino management greeted us all in a receiving line, including Richard, the casino manager whom I remembered from cruising Rhapsody of the Seas, where Hunnybear and I met Arnie the Compmeister and his brother Gary.
It was time to change for dinner so I went down and unpacked my luggage and threw on a pair of slacks. I had been assigned a nice corner window table but it turned out our party had the whole corner of the dining room so we could just sit anywhere. I kept my seat and was joined by Tabbycat, Marissa and Dean, and Michael and Michelle. Robertas, our Lithuanian waiter, recommended the tomato soup, spinach salad, and cod, which I of course ordered. The soup was the highlight and the fish wasn’t bad either, although cod was not my favorite. We had a nice bottle of Laurene Valley Oregon Pinot Noir with dinner for $24 plus autograt. As a rule I don’t eat dessert but they had the rum-soaked yeast cake so I had just one piece with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
I passed through the casino and dropped another $20 in an enticing Piggy before retiring to the cabin to be rocked to sleep. In 20 cruises I had never before encountered the situation in which I now found myself: a spotlight attached to the exterior of the ship shone directly into my window and no arranging of the drapes could keep the bright light from illuminating the head of my bed. I made it as dark as I could and got to sleep without much trouble.
Disgustingly good chocolates
Monday was a day at sea. The casino wasn’t open yet so I flipped on the TV and tried to find something. They had three different CNN channels but none of them were working at the moment and The Count of Monte Cristo was on in five different languages, none of them English. So I fooled around with Monkeyboy awhile and then went up to the casino at ten when it opened. I played a few piggies and won back what I had lost last night.
Tabbycat showed up around 11:30 carrying a couple boxes of cereal. We hung out on his balcony doing puzzles until one and then went to the Great Gatsby dining room for lunch where we were seated at a round window table with a nice old lady and her mother who were just finishing up. Tabbycat asked our Turkish waiter for recommendations but he said everything was good. “I have a policy of ordering all three soups,” said Tabbycat. Our waiter said, “Good for you.” I ordered only one soup, the Pistou French vegetable soup, and the Caribbean chicken curry. Both were nice. “Where are you from?” asked our Turkish waiter. “Southern California,” I said. “The south of California?” said our waiter. “Good for you.” As a rule I don’t eat dessert but they had Boston cream pie so I had just one slice with a scoop of vanilla fudge ice cream.
After lunch Tabbycat and I went to the Schooner Bar to play in the cruise’s first trivia challenge. We won a squeaker thanks to the nice mother and daughter on our team who knew a song from “Les Miserables.” The prizes were Royal Caribbean logoed waterproof swimming wallets. Riding high, we went topside to play a little shuffleboard but rotten kids had taken all the courts. We resisted the temptation to throw a couple of them overboard and instead waited for them to get bored, about two minutes. Playing on a rocking ship with light plastic pucks turned out to be challenging but I managed to squeak by Tabbycat to prevail in the match. Marissa and Dean came by and we chose up sides for a team match, which ended in a scoreless tie thanks to my perfect shot into 10 off in the last round.
I went back to the casino and played the X-Factor to make another $20. I retired for the moment on my winnings just as Tabbycat found me and we returned to his cabin to have a drink before changing for formal night.
I didn’t bother to bring my tuxedo on this cruise since in my experience few wore them on Mexican itineraries. Sure enough, the only one I saw was worn by Gil, another NYNY customer, and his was comped by the ship because his luggage still hadn’t shown up. I headed for the captain’s cocktail party and discovered the piano bar, once my favorite cruise hangout but on my last six cruises the ships didn’t have one. I settled into a bar stool and Roxanne, the virtuoso singer-pianist, introduced herself and asked what I liked. “Anything by Cole Porter,” I said automatically. Usually when I say this the piano player segues right into “Night and Day” but Roxanne led off with the appropriate title song from Porter’s shipboard comedy musical, “Anything Goes.” Then she played “Night and Day.”
The doors opened to the captain’s cocktail party so Tabbycat and I went in and grabbed a couple of vodka martinis. The captain started talking so we headed out and grabbed our favorite seats in the dining room. Soon we were joined by Michael and Michelle and Marissa and Dean, all dressed smartly and Marissa looking lovely in a sparkly gown. Robertas waited on us again and recommended the mushroom appetizer, the Caesar salad, and the filet mignon, which I ordered along with an awful lobster bisque. Robertas avoided saying, “I told you so,” and the rest of the meal was nice. Tabbycat and I shared a phenomenal 1996 Beringer Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon for a very reasonable $98 plus autograt.
The babysitting crew chose the formal dinner as an opportunity to bring the little darlings into the dining room for a 10-minute call-and-response pirate routine complete with a bandana-wearing counselor with a squeaky megaphone. Finally they left. As a rule I don’t eat dessert but it was Cherries Jubilee night so I had just one order along with a round of B-52 shooters courtesy of Marissa.
After dinner Tabbycat and I returned to Roxanne’s piano bar. Tabbycat sat in and played two exquisite classical pieces while a group of five ships officers had a loud conversation at the next table, ignoring the music. Tabbycat went off to party while I stayed and listened to Roxanne play Cole Porter till midnight along with the one other guy in a tuxedo. I wondered if the ship had lost his luggage along with Gil’s.
When Roxanne finished her set I put a generous tip in her snifter and headed back to the casino. No machines were calling my name but as a Gold Member of the Crown and Anchor Society I deserved a funbook with two casino coupons worth a total of almost $4.50. I won with my roulette match-play coupon but I fed the $12-for-$10 into the quarter pushed and the cheating ******* machine took all my money. I was about to head back to the cabin to retire when I saw waiters carrying around trays. I had forgotten Royal Caribbean celebrated midnight in the casino by passing around disgustingly good chocolates so I had just one and then went off to bed. The spotlight was still shining into my window but the rock-rock-rocking of the ship lulled me quickly to sleep.
Wonder bread
Tuesday we docked in Cabo San Lucas, at the lower tip of Baja California. This port was the site of my favorite shore excursion, the snorkeling-and-drinking boat, but I had no energy to do much in the sizzling heat so I just stayed on board and watched movies: The Majestic, a well-acted but slow-moving ballad of lost identity and McCarthyism starring Jim Carrey, and The Rookie, an unoriginal and uneven but entertaining baseball movie starring Dennis Quaid. In between I had a nice lunch buffet in the Great Gatsby dining room. My cell phone was working so I called Hunnybear. By that time it was time to eat again so I went up to the Windjammer, where they had aloo palak and a variety of other delicacies. I ran into Suzanne and her daughter Linda from our group and hung out awhile before returning to my cabin to rest from all the eating. I rested so well I missed the trivia challenge.
We were scheduled to set sail at 5:15 so I called Tabbycat, who had returned from a day of four-wheeling, and agreed to meet up in the Crown Viking Lounge for martinis and caviar. I had a nice Absolut Citron martini in a turbulence-friendly glass. Tabbycat ordered an iced tea but it was not possible so he went down to the Windjammer and brought a couple glasses up. Being one of only two parties in the lounge, we loaded up on caviar canapés from the setup and scraped the caviar off the Wonder bread with our teeth as we watched the Grandeur sail east toward Mazatlan.
We made a quick visit to the casino and played a few slots before pausing at the piano bar to hear Roxanne play a couple favorites. It was time for dinner so we went down to the Great Gatsby and table-hopped over to the large table with more of our group from New York New York. The waitress here was Rose from Romania, who recommended the crab cake, the New England clam chowder, and the rack of lamb, all of which I ordered and all of which were good. As a rule I don’t eat dessert but they had my favorite Baked Alaska so I had just one piece.
After dinner we went up to the South Pacific lounge for karaoke. There was a nice mix of brave youths, terrible singers, and a couple good ones thrown in for credibility. After the karaoke broke up I went to the piano bar for a couple more Cole Porter favorites with Roxanne and then made a final pass through the casino, losing just a little on the quarter X-Factor machine before stuffing the drapes against the spotlight and rocking to sleep.
Generous cigar smokers
I awoke Wednesday to the sound of the Grandeur docking in Mazatlan. The AAA battery in my digital voice recorder had died but fortunately the well-prepared Tabbycat had a spare, which he generously gave me. We had a bite of breakfast in the Windjammer and hung out until the trivia challenge, which Tabbycat and I won handily against only one other team. The prizes were free bingo entries good for any session except the final, valuable one.
Tabbycat went to walk around Mazatlan, reliving his visit here 16 years ago. I stayed on the ship and relaxed and ate. A Japanese violinist, part of a string quartet playing afternoon melodies in the Centrum, rocked out to “Tequila.” I tried to watch Big Fat Liar but it had started early on the ship’s TV so I didn’t.
Tonight was the vaunted past-passenger party. I took Tabbycat as my guest and we settled into a corner table with Marissa and Dean. I passed on a buffet of high-fat appetizers and also on the Pol Clément (not Roger) Champagne and instead ordered two complimentary manhattans from two different waiters. They arrived full strength and tided me through the obligatory game of “Who’s Cruised the Most.” The winner claimed 21 cruises with RCCL and received a bottle of Korbel.
I stopped by the purser’s desk to inquire about switching cabins due to the spotlight problem. Scott issued me a key to an identical room on the other side of the ship. This one had shorter drapes that fit into the window frame instead of hanging over but the spotlight still shone through. I couldn’t believe this wasn’t a frequent complaint but the purser’s assistants swore I was the first to be bothered by it.
Dinner tonight was quite nice. I had a fine tortilla soup, avocado with crabmeat, and a yummy chicken ancho at the recommendation of Rose, our Romanian waitress. With dinner Tabbycat and I shared a nice bottle of 1997 Barbaresco. As a rule I don’t eat dessert but they had rum cake so I had just one piece with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Tabbycat wanted to get his name in for karaoke so he didn’t wait and after dinner I returned to the purser’s desk. They offered me a lower-category cabin on deck 2 that didn’t have the light problem but the entire deck smelled of engine fumes, including inside the cabin, so I passed. I was toying with the idea of flying back to Vegas tomorrow anyway.
I had completely missed karaoke so I looked for Tabbycat in the cigar club, where he sat with Dan smoking fine cigars. They each offered me a couple puffs and I suggested we smoke outside so we retired to the Promenade Deck and enjoyed the hot breeze. Tabbycat commented on how generous cigar smokers were. I made a final pass through the casino and went to bed.
The man with the hat
Thursday morning we docked in Puerto Vallarta and I decided to fly back to Vegas for the weekend rather than sail back to San Diego with the ship. I ran into Gil, Bob and Carolyn up in the Windjammer. They had all been told you couldn’t leave the ship mid-cruise because the terrorism but I told the purser’s assistant of my plans and there was no problem at all. I filled out a couple Mexican immigration forms and packed. I tried to buy a ticket on America West’s web site but the site didn’t work properly with the ship’s version of Internet Explorer so I figured I’d just buy the ticket at the airport.
I took my bags via elevator to deck 1, where a ship’s officer asked if I was disembarking today. When I replied in the affirmative he wrote my name in a notebook and bid me farewell. I had been told to see Carlos ashore. The purser’s assistant said, “He’s the man with the hat.” I wheeled the bags down the gangway and found 50 men wearing hats. Eventually I found Carlos, who shook my hand and directed me to Miguel, his assistant. Miguel took me up a flight of stairs, into a small building, and down another flight of stairs where we loaded my bags into the back seat of his dirty silver Volkswagen and he drove me the five minutes to the airport after a brief stop for gas.
At the airport, Miguel took my papers to immigration and told me he would meet me at the America West ticket counter. A white-gloved officer searched my Andiamo whale while I watched and then I purchased a one-way ticket to Las Vegas via Phoenix. Miguel returned with my passport and said adios. I walked to gate B in the tiny airport, picked a seat, and waited an hour or so until boarding. No flights seemed to actually depart from gate B. Instead, shortly before the appointed time the gate changed to 6, just down a flight of stairs. When they announced First Class boarding I waited for one passenger to go ahead of me but they fooled me by having two screeners so I got searched and wanded.
I had seat 2A on the 15-year-old 737. The old leather seats had cracked and discolored LCD displays from back when America West had in-seat video games. The steward offered non-alcoholic pre-flight drinks as they had no liquor license for the ground. We pushed back 19 minutes early and soon we were aloft. Now alcoholic beverages were available. I resisted the temptation to say, “I’ll have whatever they’re drinking up in the cockpit,” and instead ordered water. My seat opponent, a middle-aged blonde who made no attempt to switch seats to be next to her husband in 1C, drank five Scotches. Drinks came in plastic cups and the meal service was foil-wrapped bags of trail mix on this two-hour-plus flight. There was a screaming baby in the bulkhead behind me but halfway through the flight he either quieted down or was killed.
We arrived in Phoenix 15 minutes early. It was necessary to clear U.S. Customs and Immigration there. The America West airport staff was very excited about Phoenix being a new international port of entry and made many announcements using one-syllable words to explain what we needed to do. I grabbed my bag off the belt and waltzed through customs without my usual discussion of Bill Gates.
It was about a mile walk to gate A9 and my connection to Las Vegas. I had time for a Jody Maroni chicken andouille sausage. There were no First Class seats on this leg but the nice gate agent found a roomy exit-row window for me. I had a glass of water in a plastic cup very similar to the one I had in First on the previous leg. Dodging thunderstorms, we made an unusual approach to the north and landed on time in Vegas. My limo driver was waiting for me so we collected my whale and she whisked me off, wishing me good luck. “Thank you very much,” I said as I gave her a generous tip. “I’ll need it.”
The end.
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