Available just in time for Halloween, with my hometown, Abbeville as the backdrop.

 

 

Halloween 1968, two car loads of eleventh graders venture down the winding Cedar Springs Road. An old deserted house screams haunted dares to those in search of spooks and goblins. Do tricks or treats await the young thrill seekers? Spontaneity has never taught a tougher life’s lesson, prompting a tiny southern community to shun their very own.  Ask Payne Lewis, the past can haunt forever. Nineteen years of torment comes to a head and eleven men must face their childhood demons one last time. Nostalgia guarantees no happy endings and sometimes is just better off left alone. There once was the Perfect Spook House…

 

 

‘The Griswolds Have Nothing on Us’

Disembark…Where’s Beaufort Pusser when we need him?

Disembarking the ship had its challenges. We couldn’t do it on an empty stomach so we had to hit the Lido deck one last time for breakfast. One had to wean one’s self off of endless grazing gradually. After a healthy and hardy pant’s splitting breakfast, we opted to carry off our luggage. Bad decision, sort of, as it appeared most everyone else had chosen this option. Elevators were a near impossibility to catch. We were assigned the Place Theater as our destination to wait until time to disembark, because we had to be out of our cabins by 8:30. Luckily we caught the elevator going up from deck 6 to 8. Luck ran out when we had to haul our luggage down 6 decks, two flights of stairs each. Clumsy wheeled luggage is suited for stairways filled with impatience luggage carrying people.  Luggage rage was running rampant, a new serial killer in the making. Victims could be easily targeted, no shortage for sure. Somehow we survived. Putting the oceanic adventure behind us, The Griswolds motored to their next destination.

The last two days of our after cruise journey were scheduled for Beaufort, S.C., about a three hour drive from Jacksonville and a stop on our way back to Myrtle Beach. We already had two hotel rooms reserved. None of us had ever stayed in Beaufort so we weren’t exactly sure what to expect. Many movies had been filmed in the area and that was part of their claim to fame. Forrest would say ‘It might be like a ‘box of chocolates.’  Forrest Gump or at least portions of it were supposedly filmed there, as was the Big Chill, The Great Santini, GI Jane, Platoon and Forces of Nature and a few others. We had marked movie locations tour on our to do list. No, Walking Tall was not one of the films but I couldn’t help thinking Sheriff Buford Pusser when the name Beaufort comes up. He was the Sheriff of McNairy County, Tennessee, from 1964 to 1970. That Buford is known for his virtual one-man war on moonshining, prostitution and gambling. It prompted several movies and TV series as he battled the then Dixie Mafia and Stare Line Mob. 

After much of a rain free cruise we were in one monsoon after the next commuting towards Beaufort.  We didn’t have access to Doppler radar and the ability to perform zig-zag maneuvers as had our cruise captain dodging rainstorms, similar to battleships confusing submarines intent on sinking them.  We managed to make it to Beaufort with only one grazing stop.  We didn’t want to suffer withdrawals. We eventually arrived and after unloading the car, freshening up, we ventured out and about to check things out. We ended up in the old downtown section, Mayberry with heat and humidity. Finding a parking spot on the Bay Street, we began feeding coins in the parking meter.  A quarter bought you about six minutes. We started with an hours’ worth, later returning to up the ante when we found a place to dine on the bay front.  Like Nassau, we had completed a several block walk-about and other than the meter feeding and feeding our faces, we did nothing else to boost the quaint little town’s economy.  We rode around afterwards in this and that direction to get the lay of the land.

The next morning we were ready to take our show to the streets and tour some more. Several consignment shops had been targeted; historical ones I’m assuming or maybe these were film locations…NOT. Sister-in-law was not doing well. She made it to several stops before crying uncle and the next stop was Food Lion to purchase meds. They bowed out before noon, opting to settle back in the room. We ventured out and scoped out more of Beaufort, returning in time to see if they were up to some grazing. An addiction is tough to kick. They emerged from their cave long enough to join us before packing it back in a second time. We told them happy hour started at 6. The sister-in-law was still feeling a bit puny, hacking and coughing so neither she nor my brother-in-law joined us for happy hour @ 6 at poolside. Perhaps they thought a bathing suit was required.  It was optional and we had opted out.  I bet if I would have said a buffet was being served…

No one had felt up to doing any tours, neither by van or horse drawn carriage; either too sick or it was just plain too hot and humid. Again, we didn’t do too much to boost the economy on our little pit stop.  Instead of heading back to Myrtle Beach via Charleston, we decided to skirt through Summerville, distance about the same. There we intended to stop for lunch at Perfectly Franks, a dinner we had seen highlighted on Guy Fiei’s Drive-ns, Dinners and Dives.  We arrived @ 1100 Am. The sign on the store said hours begin @ 11:15, an odd time for opening. One couple pushing a stroller was already there waiting. We asked them had they ever eaten there and she said, “Oh my God yes.” We knew then that we wouldn’t be disappointed. Crowds began forming in the next few minutes and they opened up at 11:10. Every Frank on the menu was named after someone or something aka the Frank Sinatra. Aretha Franklin, etc.

I had the Frank Cuda…chili, topped with blue cheese slaw, bacon, crumpled fried onions, and a special mayo, watch out elbows. The Cuda family tradition began in 1910, when Perry’s grandfather, Frank Cuda, Sr., at the age of 15, stowed away on a boat from Italy to America. Later he moved to Pittsburgh, PA. From there, he brought all of his family, eight brothers and sisters and his father, to live with him in America. As the oldest brother, Frank was determined to make his way in his new home by opening a food store and selling hot dogs. With just three stools and a counter, “Cuda’s Hot Dogs” was born. Frank Cuda, Sr. continued to grow his business and soon had four hot dog stores managed exclusively by his family, which included Perry’s father, also named Frank. Today, Perry Cuda is carrying on the tradition and continues to pay tribute to the “Franks”.  Go to http://www.perfectlyfranksonline.com/menus.html#3

We eventually, Lido like belly popping full, made our way back to the grand strand. The in-laws made a swift retreat and headed for Abbeville, a four and half hour driver, having apparently had enough of our company. A vacation is what you make out of it and I like to keep my memorable. Being a little foolish is okay. Enjoying it is priceless. I can’t wait for the next time the Griswold wantebees hit the highway. Maybe next time we’ll too go in search of Wally World.

‘The Griswolds Have Nothing on Us’

Day 5: Milk-um Dano  

We’re on the last leg of our journey, a day at sea, skimming our way through the ocean towards Jacksonville. We’re up and at-um at 7:30, ready to milk this cow, our final oceanic adventure before returning to the life of norm. With an all day island adventure behind us, those late night partiers give way to skimpy crowds on the Lido; no lines, no waiting, pile those plates high, eyes always bigger than the bellies. Stan the Man is making he rounds, still meeting and greeting passengers. Sucking up day I suppose; tonight we divvy out the gratuities. Stan has certainly earned his, hands down.  

The pool area on the Lido was a virtual invasion of the towel creations. The fluffy white animals were everywhere and represented almost any animal imaginable. I had never seen these creatures outside our cabin. My best attempt at a towel animal is my depiction of the ‘Blob’, an oddly shaped towel on the bathroom floor. Others don’t appreciate my ingenuity and creative talents so I don’t leave my masterpieces there for long. They are preparing to do an ice carving pool side. A huge block of ice is already positioned there. Guests are supposed to guess what the carver is creating as he chips away. Crowds close in obstructing our view. Fine, I’ll just keep my guess to myself. We leave, just the deck, not the ship. What do they do with the sculpture after it melts?  

We check tonight’s menu…boring…nothing really weird to hold my attention or expectations. I’ll have sushi as my appetizer just to maintain some semblance of weirdness. I do have a reputation to maintain. Tonight’s entertainment includes tow comedians, back to back, the non adult versions of their shows; The Diva Show in the Palace Theater and I’m already having visions of Bill Davis’s Diva paintings. Other than that, we shall eat…eat again and then eat some more. There is a special VIP gala planned before dinner for those previous cruisers, by invitation only. I’m not on the invite list even though I’ve sailed Carnival way too may time. The “Three’ are. My brother-in-law isn’t interested and tells me to take his spit. Chameleon like, I have the ability to mimic almost anyone. I am him and escort the ladies, one on each arm. I become an official VIP for forty minutes. I am one with the elite, the ultimate party crasher. I wow them by dancing with both my escorts simultaneously, a slow dance, a tribute my way as old Frankie would say. Earlier in the casino I played the slots one last time earlier, end up breaking even. High roller status is not a reality or obtainable goal.  

We break bread with our table once last time. Besides us, our table buddies include Robbie, the karaoke singer, Kathy the odd and annoying one who cruise one cruise after the next, Edith the widow and energetic and entertaining octogenarian, and Cynthia, the quiet one from Ohio. I envision a plot once again revolving around these four characters and some devious shenanigans. I even share this with them for a good laugh. We commit to joining Robbie, the Sam’s Club marketing guy, later in the karaoke bar. Oh no, we plan to watch not sing.  We eventually follow up on our promise to watch him belt out a few tunes. He ends up singing a couple of country tunes and then a Commodores’ tune, Brick House. We cease the moment, Edith, my sister-in-law and me, becoming Robbie’s on stage back-up dancers, with his permission of course. It is required that on every cruise, you must make a fool out of yourself at least once.  We completed this task royally. I have the video to confirm it. My brother-in-law filmed the entire set with my camera. Kiss and say goodbye…Pips here we come.  

Tonight has ended. Tomorrow we disembark. All things, good or bad, must come to an end…or not. We plan a two night side trip before arriving Sarueday in Myrtle Beach. Beaufort, S.C. here we come, ready or not.

‘The Griswolds Have Nothing on Us’

Day 4: An Hour in Paradise  

We’re here. The island is there. As mentioned previously, I’m the only one who brought a bathing suit. I discover just this morning that it is one that the strings don’t tighten up so well. I have been considering going snorkeling but skinny dipping wasn’t in my plans. Weighed down with water that might just happen if I do, but, snorkeling really isn’t fun without at least one bud along. I’m Bud-less so I decided not to go. No one in my group is going to sunbath on the beach, swim, kayak, walk and/or bicycle the island trails, ride horses or anything like that. We’re just going on the island for the promised BBQ. Go figure, eating is involved, island grazing this time. One has to ponder, does water go all the way around the island. Goodbye Lido Deck…keep the food light on for us.  

We take one of the tenders and soon arrive on our island paradise. For greenhorns, tenders are the boats that take us to the island. We arrive, a beautiful layout I must say, paradise found. We walk to the beach, see it and walk back, and then visit the one souvenir shop. Shade, there must be shade some place so say some in our party, the others I call them. The 11 AM BBQ time arrives. As on the ship, eating is located on what seems like the opposite end of the island. I guess this ensures that the patrons work up an appetite getting from here to there; like we require an excuse for being hungry. Heck on a cruise you eat whether you are hungry or not. It’s an endless buffet. Chickens, real chickens are everywhere on the island; instant BBQ I’m thinking. My beloved is terrified of chickens; anything with feathers to be more precise. She is a near basket case and is ready to be voted off the island. I almost want to pull a Jeff from Survivor and say I’ll go tally the votes; if anyone has the hidden immunity island and would like to play it now…  

BBQ, where’s the BBQ, ribs, chicken, pulled pork…no, we have hamburgers and hotdogs. That’s grilling, not barbequing. Is this some sick joke? Are they no chicken pluckers on this island? As Lost in Space’s Doctor Smith would say. “The shame, the shame of it all...’ We do as we are supposed to and forge on, consume the food provided, and then we catch a tender and head back to the ship. There’s always the Lido deck. I catch a reprieve after reading tonight’s dinner menu…frog leg appetizers…I’m good…two appetizers please. Let’s recant. I’ve had escargot, gator and hippity-hoppers await me. I live for weird food so the others call it. Oh yeah, on the Lido Deck I have already devoured calamari fritters. Add squid to my list.   

We decided we deserved a happy hour before dinner and invite the couples to join us in our cabin. That’s the least we can do since our non-traveling cruise partners (the high rollers) have a bottle of Cherry Rum and a bottle of wine that they want to get rid of. Get ridding of I am good at. We take a nostalgic trip, swapping stories about growing up in L.A. (Lower Abbeville). South Main, Perry and Hunter Streets, Langley Milliken, Greenville Street grammar schools, the mill hill, all the characters we knew and their antics; adult beverages emboldened our tales. I mentally take notes; novels require new characters and wild adventures. This was the best of the cruise so far.  

After dinner, and upon my consumption of six frog legs, we settled in at the Palace Theater. When I say we, I mean half of our original six. Two went back to their cabin and one hauled tail to the casino. The cruise director had assembled several couples on stage for Carnival’s version of the Newly Wed Game. One question stood out above the others as a hoot and I’m glad we weren’t participants. 

Question: When your husband emerges from the shower does he resemble (a) A stretch limousine, (b) A dump truck (c) a VW bug with tiny pink flat tires.  

Tomorrow we are all day at sea; just perfect for non sun bathers. There’s always the Lido deck. How much luggage are you allowed to take off the ship? I feel like I’m lugging around a lot more than I arrived with…

 

‘The Griswolds Have Nothing on Us’

Day 3: Nassau is Not NASA 

Docked and ready to see the space shuttle, a few astronauts and launch pads…you’d be surprised. Time to disembark; my down is sometimes up. We’re so used to ascending we forgot today we’d be descending three decks and six flights of stairs. Our little ole Fascination is a mere baby boat docked between the massive behemoths of the sea from Disney and Royal Caribbean. The humongous Royal Caribbean’s International of the Seas has nothing but balcony rooms. Even the interior rooms have balconies so we were told. I find my self suffering from a severe case of ship envy. Size does matter. I feel so inadequate and out gunned. No need wishing what I can’t have so we head a shore, the whole time, the ballad of the SS Minnow is playing over and over in my head, a three hour tour. There’s only one tune worse, It’s a Small World After All. Dang it, now I got that one in my head, thank me very much.  

We’ve played this game before, having been to Nassau more times that I can possibly remember. We know the walk, the lay of the land and typically do our little walk about through the various tourist trap shops before returning to the ship in time for a Lido deck visit. In one shop I spot a Book Nook. Just as the ship’s library, it is void of any T. Allen Winn masterpieces. I will have a word with my fan club president and only member of that illustrious group and have her inquire why they don’t. In another shop we zoom in on a coupe wearing Costal Carolina Teal tee-shirts. We walk over and speak to them. They are from New York and have been on nearly forty cruises, blowing us out of the water. Their grandson has just started CCU, receiving a scholarship in track. He’s a high jumper. We swap emails and I take a photo of them, small world after all.  Dang it, I should have never keyed that in.  

Thinking towards eventual retirement, I eye these unique cork creations of animals. A sign warns no photographs. Somehow I manage to heed the warning. I tell my lovely wife, the wine connoisseur to start saving her corks. I might have a creative moment. Screw off caps are not going to kick start my creative potential. We trek on, completing our three or four block loop. Coping with the heat and humidity as best we can, we make our purchases, two bottles of water, a buck a piece, one genuine Bahamas souvenir golf visor, made in China, 6 dollars, sweaty and smelly, priceless.  

We’re no longer sun worshippers, me being the only one foolish enough to bring a bathing suit so dock day can be quite boring on the Fun Ship.  But, wait, we have endless eating to fill our afternoon until our 6 PM early dinning. I might qualify as a Sumo wrestler by the time we debark in Jacksonville.  

After dinner, we settle in at the Piano Bar for a second helping at 9 PM, solo of course as our cruising partners returned to their cabin, predicted. The ivory keys were as good as the first time. At 10 PM one of the clubs is supposed to have an hour of country music. We’re up for a little country music and Texas two stepping. We arrive, secure us a seat and after three songs of watching a non-energetic or entertaining DJ playing country, no one on the dance floor, we decide to leave. I can do better playing songs on my radio while commuting to work Mon-Fir. We call it a night.  

Oh, I nearly forgot, shortly have we hit the seas again and the casino opened, I tried my luck at quarter slots again. We had learned to use our on board cards as cash and could earn points as we played. 1000 earned points guaranteed free drinks. Go figure, I played on that same ten dollars foe a good thirty or so minutes, eventually cashing out @ seventy dollars. Between the two of us we were netting $20 to the win column. I had earned a big ole whopping 63 points towards my 1000 point high roller status. I was living large…NOT! A Win is a Winn. 

My book juices are always flowing. I pondered a cruise novel with the Love Boat theme song now playing annoyingly in my head. Cruising Dead, a zombie thriller, Lido Lovers, the Tale of the Cannibal Chef, The Constant Cruiser, old lady cruising continuously one cruise after the next, a soul eater, having her way with an endless buffet of folks, or maybe, Triangular, Trudy and Woody investigate why passengers are vanishing on certain cruises. Yep, that’s me, I think about stuff.  

Tomorrow we’ll be anchored at the private island, Half Moon Cay or as the crew calls it Half Mon-key.      

 

‘The Griswolds Have Nothing on Us’

Day 2: The Man Show

Stan and Piano  

Stan the Man, that’s what he called himself, our dinning room Maitre D'. He looked too much like Annie’s Daddy Warbucks. He had more personality than all the Maitre D’s from every cruise we have ever taken. He was personable, friendly and funny. We had ended up the first night’s seating each couple assigned different tables. The third couple, not in our original party, was at what else but a third table. We had asked Stan the Man the previous night if we could all sit at one table. No problem, Stan the Man came through for us. Every time I saw him, no matter where on the ship for the remainder of the cruise, he always called me by my first name. That was just too uncanny but appreciated.  

Earlier during the day I tried my hand at the twenty five cent casino slots, ten dollar bill in, no dingers and in less than two minutes, like magic, my ten had disappeared. That’s worse than unlucky. I later ventured into the ship’s library, the same spot on a different cruise ship where I had my very first photo taken of me and my very first published novel, Road Rage. I had just received my proof copy before our vacation cruise sailed from Miami and then we spent a week in Key Largo. On that vacation I sold my first copy of Road Rage to a couple from California staying at our resort. Sadly, looking about the shelves, there were no T. Allen Classics. Unlucky at slots and libraries so it seemed.  

We had started our morning with pre-arranged room service, mater juice and coffee to our cabin @ 7:30. We met my in-laws for breakfast later on the Lido. Sister-in-law was commenting how she thought service was better on Celebrity Cruise Lines. I advised her to tone down her voice in front of the Carnival servers. To prove we were fit as a badly tuned fiddle, we opted for the stairs instead of the elevators. We were on deck 6, Lido on Deck 10 and everything else was between those decks. Oh yeah, cramps got me later that night, the old legs debating the decision to ascend and descend. It didn’t deter us from sticking to the game plan. One must find a way to counter the grazing frenzies.  

My dearest was going to let her sister borrow gold ear rings for dress-up night. She called their cabin to tell her to drop by and pick them up. Not going to happen, her sister told her she had lost her holes. How do you lose holes in your ears I asked? They must have grown over from not wearing them, so I offered to poke new holes in them. Wise woman, she declined my offer. Just as well, the way my luck was going I would have made a mess of that too. I’m not ear pierce person but I did stay once in a Holiday Inn Express. She lost her room key too if that tells you anything. She eventually relocated it though but those ear holes never showed up.  

I said at the beginning that Day 2 was the Man Show. After dinner, we visited the Piano Bar. Of all places, the Piano Player lived in Anderson, S.C., was originally from Georgia, a good ole God fearing Baptist boy. We had heard him play on the last ship we sailed. It’s a fun guy and takes requests. He said he had to get this one tune over with though and played Piano Man. He was indeed Piano Man Extraordinaire. At the end of his set he said he had one more tune to play. Fist he said he was required to make a disclaimer; he was about to play a gospel tune in a bar. He said if anyone in the bar was offended by Jesus music then ‘there is the door.’ He brought the house down with an Elvis rendition of “How Great Thou Art’.  

Earlier during dinner, sadly escargot was not on the menu but not to fear. I got my weird fix on with gator fritters. I had flash backs of all those gators I see on the Grand Strand golf courses. Man, there are a lot fritters on those ten footers. And no, gator does not taste like chicken folks; only chicken tastes like chicken so please stop spreading all the roomers about everything else tasting like narrow head, yard bird that is.  

We made until around 11 PM, until most of the good entertainment had expired. The other couple in our party had departed to their cabin after dinner. Sorry, I don’t get it, going on a cruise and not staying up to do anything.  

The male part of our third couple was a casino junky.  I could be one too if I could afford all the losing. He claimed he was winning, had been pegged as a high roller, even receiving complimentary drinks. I hadn’t even reached low roller status yet. The cruise wasn’t over yet though. Lady luck might be out there somewhere. If she was, where had she been hiding the past 61 years? What a tease? After all, we had three more cruise days to go yet. Miracles can happen. Tomorrow, tomorrow…right. I better consult Daddy Warbucks, Stan the Man and request that he please conjure up me a winning streak. I’m not greedy; braking even is a good thing. Speaking of tomorrow, well typing speaking of tomorrow, we’ll be docking in Nassau. That means a walk about, window shopping in the oppressive heat and retuning in time to do lunch on the Lido. You cam never pass on a grazing opportunity.

 

‘The Griswolds Have Nothing on Us’

Day 1: Saturdays are for Cruisers and Bruisers

 

Surprises at the terminal, first time out of Jacksonville and what happens; we’re spotted by another couple from the hometown, Abbeville, also sailing from this port for the very first time. Go figure. We reminisce, we board, and we are ready for the next five days of leaving the rest of the world behind. As mentioned, the other three, the clique were issued gold VIP on board cards and I receive a blue first time cruiser card, 18 cruise, sorry, I’m not a virgin. We bring on board the permitted amount on none alcohol beverages, not to exceed more than twelve cans or bottles of 20 ounces each. Mingled among the water could be contraband, just saying. We also brought a couple of sippy cups.  Not to be outdone, the in-laws purchased water bottles and sippy cups too. Theirs is still in the car, go figure.  

Waiting to sail in three or four hours, we else is there to do but hit the Lido Deck, let the grazing begin. Green tea is supposed to be healthy, I get that. Dipping green tea, tea bags in a cup of coffee just so ain’t right. Sister-in-laws often defy logic. Mixed drink I suppose. We eventually make our way to our cabin, hoping we will have one bed, not twins or bunk beds. One bed it is. The other two of our party have the same outcome at their cabin. They have the cabin folks redo it and make twin beds. Logic defied once again but not my cabin, do your thing.  

Sister-in-law is put off by a motorized wild woman driving about and running her nearly over. To be continued…it ain’t over by a long shot.  

Silent moment…mama sure did love cruising. She would have been right her with us, no doubt, miss you mama.  

Fairy tales do come true and why I love to cruise is confirmed the very first night. We check out the dinner menu. It’s escargot night. I order two appetizers, twelve snails please. I’m in heaven. My goal each night, eat and try new and different stuff. I dubbed as the one who eats weird stuff. Weird can be good. Don’t knock it unless you try it. Man’s mantra: ‘I’ll eat anything that doesn’t eat me first.’ I live by that creed too and will try anything once and have.  

We attend the show, and as we enter the theater, they are giving out tickets. My beloved tears off one section and drop the other copy off for the drawing. In-laws are excited they have tickets too. One problem, they still have both sections, doubling their chances I suppose. You can’t win if you have both sections, sorry. We make it to 11:30 our first night. Older and wiser we don’t try to hang out to the wee hours with the youngsters. We’re cruising ya’ll. I wonder if the crew is sleeping on he ship too.

‘The Griswolds Have Nothing on Us’

Pre-Cruise Madness

 

Okay, I concede; we are four technically, two couples, brother-in-law and sister-in-law as related to me. I could name names but sometimes it is best to protect those who don’t often protect themselves. Wink…nod…some of you will figure it out anyway. I’m still not over those three biscuits by a long shot though. One is a lonely number but this one never forgets. Ask anyone. I take half a day off from work on the day before the embarkation date. We decide to drive close to Jacksonville so we’re the first in line the next day. We eventually circle the wagons about thirty miles from our destination, plenty of daylight to burn but close enough to call; Comfort Inn becomes our campsite; we do have a rewards card after all. Two rooms…perfect… 

Our rooms have king sized beds, are roomy and have min frigs, microwaves and those one cup coffee makers.  And what does the brother-in-law do and we are glad we weren’t with him when he asked? He goes to the lobby and asks the front desk attendant for a coffee pot because one is missing from theirs. No pot is required she explains. Just place one of the provided cups underneath, add water, the supplied coffee and press start. Coffee pot…really. One must learn to get out of Abbeville (subliminal hint) more often. Sister-in-law decides she wants one of those reward cards so she can receive all the quirks that come along with them. Quirks…perks…sound sort of alike, don’t they? Quirk: something strange happens for reasons that you do not know or understand. She is sort of quirky. Perks are privileges granted. Strange happening or privileges, she may as well have had utters; we milked the quirk angle for the remainder of the vacation. She is our female ‘Norm Crosby.’ Google him if you are too young or too quirky to get it.  

Writer and blogger privileges, perks of the trade; I decide what I write and all are primed and fair targets. I didn’t take my laptop but I have an elephant’s memory. I file things away but store them up for later. In this case, I did things the old fashioned way, note tablet and pen. At the end of the day I converted those chronicled events to paper, saving the quirkiness for now, perks indeed. We haven’t even gotten to the cruise yet. Bear with me, wild and craziness looms ahead as only I can spin it.

 ‘The Griswolds Have Nothing on Us’

The Power of Three 

Bored and having not taken much of a vacation in the past two years other than staying at the beach condo, we decided it was time to do a road trip. Sure, the condo comes with an ocean and a beach but we can go there anytime and have. I know it’s hard to believe but living less than ten minutes from the beach makes going there less special. We decided it was time to do another cruise. We hadn’t been on one in a few years, having burned out of doing them, dozens of them. What the heck, at least we could hop on board, have our hotel, our meals and entertainment all inclusive, destination not really that important. We decided on a five day, leaving from Jacksonville, much cheaper than going out of Charleston. It really makes no sense…same cruise line, same dates, same destinations, just a different ship but worth the extra three hour drive further to Jacksonville than just and hop and a skip to Charleston. We tacked on two nights afterwards in Beaufort. 

We invited kinfolk. They accepted. We booked the cruise two months in advance. August 30^th arrived on schedule. The kinfolk were coming down on the 29^th but in their typical fashion, and really no surprise, they came to the beach two days earlier than originally planned. We’re used to this. On the 29^th, a breakfast supper was served. After most of the food had been consumed, only three biscuits and two sausage patties survived the night time morning feast. The female kinfolk, while still seated at the kitchen table, smiles as she eyes the three biscuits and says, we have three left and there’s three of us. Excuse me…I’m still here, and just because I work half day tomorrow doesn’t mean I don’t eat breakfast too. I immediately smell conspiracy, the clique being formed and me on the outside looking in. Ironically I have a completed novel titled ‘Outside the Clique’ so I get it.  

Fast forwarding to cruise check in time, The Three all receive gold on board passes. I receive a blue pass card and I’m the one who made all the reservations. Gold signifies VIP. Of which I’m not. The power of the three rears its ugly obvious head once again and I’m just a P, VI to my name apparently. Later each of them will receive a special invitation to attend a welcome aboard dinner. I’m VIP-less…go figure…I can’t. The male kinfolk, not one to drink, dance and socialize, offers me his VIP invite. A chameleon, I become him for 45 minutes.  

Hold onto your britches The Griswolds Cruise Vacation lurks in the next entries, five days…really? It seemed much longer. Clark, eat your heart out…