Last night was dinner with "the girls" at 15th Street Fisheries, a short walk from my hotel and a long drive from Sandy's home where Kat and Catherine spent a leisurely day. Three of four meals were wonderful and four of four of us had fun.
I am starting out with a bit of Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc and am amazed at what different perveyors think it is worth. I just bought a few bottles at home for the amazingly low price of $12.99. At the Walgreen's across the street, a bottle is on sale for $15.99, down from $17.99. At 15th Street Fisheries, a glass is $12.00. It is a substantial pour but, really?
Kat is not joining Catherine, Sandy and I aboard the Constellation today. The ship lies at berth in the Fort Lauderdale Cruise Port and I walked past her this morning as I got in my eight mile workout.
Winding through neighborhoods and then along the beach, I find that I am attracted to this part of Fort Lauderdale more than I had previously thought. I could see staying on the beach here for a few days and hanging out at the bars and restaurants to people watch. As for inland, not so much.
After a short cab ride (I could have walked but towing my luggage would have been cumbersome) I began running the gauntlet that is initial boarding for a cruise.
First, one deals with the luggage crew. A throng of men employed by the port seek to relieve you of your luggage. In my case, I am traveling with only a carry-on bag and two small backpacks and I don't wish to deal with the delay that is inherent in this process. It takes the luggage folks, both ashore and aboard ship, quite a while to get everyone’s luggage from their arrival vehicle to their cabins. Fortunately for me, a quite grey and elderly porter approached the trunk of my taxi, greeting me with a "Good morning, young man." I returned the greeting, “And a good morning to you as well, young man.” He roared with laughter, I roared back and the embarkation process got off on the right foot.
Towing my belongings, I entered the line of happy beings thinking of the fun ahead. “Have your passport handy,” was sung out several times as I first dealt with a security person, then the next security team with their machines (who allowed my two bottles of wine to mass unmolested), next a cruise line’s person, next the actual check-in person, then the “ID Photo” person, then the “Scan Your Seapass” person at the actual ship entry point and, finally, the person who happily told me (now at 12:45) that none of the cabins would be ready until 1:30.
No matter. I made my way with all my stuff up the elevator to Deck Ten and my familiar and much loved Sunset Bar which was already crowded with others who, like me, were imbibing their first alcohol of the trip (and day) while waiting to settle into their staterooms.
The bar was, as one would expect, jammed save one table was occupied by a lone (elderly) woman. I asked if she would be willing to share and she curtly informed me that “my friends are getting food.” I thanked her anyway and rolled my bag to an open place by the rail, went to the bar, ordered a Bud Light, and returned to lean on the rail and people-watch. The woman, soon joined by another crone clone, began to stare at me. Thinking that perhaps she thought she knew me from some previous journey but also sensing that her demeanor was not exactly that, I asked, “Is anything wrong?”
“You are blocking my view,” she said.
Completely taken aback since the entire bar was jammed with people and the place I was occupying was about all that was available, I said, “Really?” She had a point as I was blocking what she could see of the vista below but, in fairness to me, her view was, without me in her way, of a rusting and quite ugly oil and gasoline tank farm and industrial complex.
“Yes; you are very rude,” she said. As evidenced by nods, her companion obviously agreed.
I slid over near to a post which was the best I could do. She was obviously not pleased that I had failed to completely leave the area but, the post was not going to move so I felt that her view would not be further compromised by my now sucked-in and narrowed presence.
Soon, others stopped to ask if they could share the table. The companion changed their story from “getting food” to “trying to make dinner reservations downstairs” and it soon became clear that these two were not only unpleasant, they were also untruthful.
The ships public address system soon came alive with the announcement that all staterooms were now ready so I fled the Sunset Bar for Cabin 8159 where I unpacked.
Returning to the now uncrowded Sunset Bar, Catherine and Sandy arrived. Remarkably they told me of how they had entered into a conversation with these two elderly ladies who, as I listened, were they two I had earlier encountered. “Did they ever get joined by their friends?” I asked. As I suspected, there were no friends.
At some time during this cruise, I hope to see these two again so that I can somehow find a way to block their view of something much more worthwhile while greeting them with a complete lack of familiarity or recognition. I’ll keep you posted.
Everyone aboard a cruise ship must attend the mandatory “muster drill” which is known by many as the “lifeboat drill.” No matter what you call it, it consists of finding the spot to which you should go in the event of an emergency and sitting or standing around to see someone—much as flight attendants do—demonstrate how to don a life jacket.
Returning to the Sunset Bar (do you detect a pattern here?), I re-found Catherine. She and I caught up on conversations from the past while I learned her table number for the 8:30pm late dinner seating. That was important so that I could go and bribe the dining room maitre’d to shift me to their location. That done, I changed into dinner attire and met them and a couple from Connecticut, the elderly Selma and Irv, for our first shipboard meal.
Catherine, God love her, noticed a couple behind me seated at a table for ten surrounded by eight empty chairs. Within a few minutes she first experienced failure in having us moved to their table and next experienced victory at arranging that for future nights. That was, on her part, a classy move that, as an often-solo traveler, I appreciated more than she or you can know.
Service on this first night was slow so an unneeded dessert was skipped so that we could arrive on time for the 10:15 Showroom Opening-Night entertainment. That typical cruise line offering was followed by Sandy’s retirement to bed while Catherine and I sauntered over to the Rendevous Lounge to hear a baudy quasi-karaoke act which I will describe better in a later post. By midnight, I was sound asleep, quite happy with this day and all it brought.
Let the games begin.
Beaches, Boats, Beauties
Monday, March 31, 2014
Fort Lauderdale, Florida, United States
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2025-02-11
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Norman
2014-04-01
I take it the 'lone crones' didn't recognize you.