‘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.