Cruise Adventures: Day 1, August 30, 2009

I wake up Sunday morning and the gravity of Plan B hits me. I brush my teeth and it’s all I can think about. We were so stupid. We had so much luggage. Someone could have hurt Nick. Someone could have killed Nick. I nearly start throwing up in the bathroom sink. I start crying. I don’t feel good. What were we thinking? Why were we so stupid? Anxiety sets in. Homesickness sets in. I could tell that this was not going to be pretty.

I have been known to experience, what I like to call, traveler’s anxiety. It is hard to articulate what this is, how it feels, or what causes it. Flying is normally an obvious trigger for me, but clearly airports and planes were not in the equation here. I suppose it is the fear of the unknown coupled with a desire to be able to plan for and control worst-case-scenarios. For example, I like to know that if Nick or I need medical attention we can seek help easily. Would we be able to do this on the ship? In Mexico? What if there is a typhoon? What if the ship capsizes? You know, worrying about practical things like envisioning Titanic-like catastrophes. Certainly, there are far more factors that elicit this overwhelming anxiety, but a topic of this nature would be better left for an anthology rather than a blog post.

Nonetheless, I am upset. I order a fruit bowl from Crème de la Crepe for breakfast. A fruit bowl of all things. For breakfast. My favorite meal of the day, but it doesn’t matter because I know I won’t be able to eat. My sweet little fruit bowl goes almost untouched. Every bite is forced and every bite is painful. I quit trying. Ugh. Why am I so weird? I am sure Nick is wondering the same thing.

Soon, our green Prius taxi arrives. No more metro traveling for either of us. Not in southern California, anyways. I guess we are too spoiled by BART. Our taxi driver helps to keep my mind off of things. Kind of. I let it slip that we took the metro the night before. “Through south central L.A.?” he asks. We say yes and he asks if we have ever heard of Compton before. He asks if we have ever heard of Snoop Dogg before. He asks is we have ever heard of “the LBC.” I consider his questions and catch his drift. Yes, we’ve heard of Compton, Snoop Dogg, and “the LBC” before, and yes, we should have known better. I laugh it off and quickly change the subject. “So, how do you like your Prius?”

We arrive at the Port of Los Angeles in San Pedro. Our ship is huge and there are already tons of people. People are spilling out of taxis, cars, and buses and everyone has an over abundance of luggage. Seeing the mountains of luggage, I don’t feel so bad for bringing 2 suitcases, a duffel bag, a backpack, and a giant purse. We kindly tip the porter $20, as recommended by our knowledgeable taxi driver, to ensure that our luggage gets top priority. I am not quite convinced that our luggage will get any special treatment, but what do we know at this point?

While we are at the registration desk declaring that we are, as far as we know, free from the H1N1 virus, the lady next to me voices her disappointment about the hurricane that will be in Cabo on Tuesday. The day that we will be in Cabo. The hurricane? I ask, “there’s going to be a hurricane?” This does not help to ease my traveler’s anxiety. Despite this, checking in is smooth sailing (pun intended) and we happily scurry to deck 4 to have our pictures taken and enter the ship that we will call home for the next week.

in fact

Enter ship, cue hallelujah music. We soak it all in. This thing is like a town, a shopping mall, a country even. There are floors upon floors of shopping, entertainment, food, and places to relax. Unable to enter our room, we have a couple of hours to wonder around the Mariner of the Seas. We walk around the promenade, the pool deck, and the casino. We peak inside the various bars, lounges, and theatres. It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before and I have to admit, it’s pretty darn cool.

So cool, in fact, that I forget about my anxiety and homesickness and work up an appetite. We mosey on over to the Windjammer Café where I eat a ham sandwich, macaroni and cheese, french fries, and mashed potatoes. Still full from his breakfast, Nick watches me eat. We resume our sightseeing until 1PM and then head up to our room on the 6^th floor. Cabin 6640. Home Sweet Home.

We do a little unpacking and watch the underwater welder get outfitted with scuba gear outside of our balcony until Nick decides that he is hungry. We head back over to the Windjammer and Nick feeds me a glorious cheeseburger. Apparently, I have a lot of catching up to do since I haven’t eaten much in the past day and a half.

At 5PM it’s up to the pool deck on the 11^th floor to say bon voyage to San Pedro. The captain (or the cruise director) reminds us that it is the departure that sets the tone for the whole trip (or something like that), so Nick and I celebrate with margaritas (regular for him, pomegranate for me).

We watch all of the people around us and as we pull away from the port we enjoy the scenery and think about how lucky we are... except for the whole hurricane thing...