Simply Having

Frothy ocean, reading poolside, lime juice in the hot tub, chatting with a window, pastry pile every morning, Christmas Eve nachos and then Christmas nachos, humid salt air, smoke in the palm forest, beach massage, Diet Cokes on the patio, dumb little holiday tree, sunglasses gone, tips counted, bright stars, sandcastle lump, iguanas and hawks, biking around the bend, red lipstick, time moving on.

Alice & Boyfriend in Shipland

 -I saw Puhg in the sunshine of the French Quarter with a duffel by his feet. I chose our brunch spot based on the name alone—Stanley—an honor to both me and Tennessee Williams. We hugged forever as street saxophonists tootled around us. The trip began with fried oysters and a long walk to the ship port.

-We went to the free Venetian restaurant and were seated at the very back, next to the windows! We watched the propellers spit up water and the sky go pink. I looked at my sweetie’s face in magic hour—golden.

-The sea day was rough for one of us who hadn’t yet grown accustom to the rocking. We read together on the deck—both books by Jon Krakauer. At night we dolled up for red bean wontons and snuck into the passenger-only hot tubs.

-I was woken by Puhg squealing “I’m up!” Finally we were in port! After a stroll around Cozumel, a stop for detergent, and an authentic Mexican feast, we bopped to the crew hangout. I bought Puhg a hipster tanktop and snorkel set for the occasion. We jumped off a cliff into the ocean and swam out to a plane crash site.

-We took a party catamaran out to sea and hopped off one at a time right over the second biggest coral reef in the world. The group looked like floating ants with their faces in the water and butts in the air. I saw so many fish! Pink and blue in schools and solo. The highlight was when we spotted a sea turtle zooming along the sand. We followed it together, holding hands.

-On the Olde Belize River we were guided to see manatees, dolphins, monkeys, cashews, pelicans, and my favorite, a collection of tiny bats! In the heat, we were passed bags of water that everyone rolled on their faces before stabbing and drinking. We ate rice and beans cooked in coconut water under a straw hut and our guide talked us through the bus ride to the Altun Ha ruins. I fell asleep like any good student in the front row.

-The ruins were incredible. “The world is so big,” Puhg had said the day before. Roatan on the map seems like a tiny island, and yet we could have explored it for a month—especially considering what’s below sea level. At the Mayan ruins I felt, “History is so big.” I walked where people made sacrifices. I did a cartwheel where a hundreds of men died. Puhg said he was going to steal a rock and immediately tripped. We both looked at the sky. Perhaps not smart to anger the Sun God. As we left, people manned card tables of plantain chips and fresh papaya. I bought a ton of snacks but only liked the coconut milkshake. Divine! The woman who worked at the stand had worked at the shop for a year and had been to see the ruins once. They are a ten-minute walk away.

-We played Marco Polo on a quiet empty Costa Maya beach and ate chillaquiles.

-The final sea day was needed. Sleep-ins, and gym, and watching OJ. We came upon MB and played a few rounds of Rummy. But I felt weird. I kept feeling weird. And then at 6 I threw up. And then I kept throwing up. The night was supposed to be where Puhg wore the one fancy outfit he brought, we took cheesy pictures on the staircases, we dined, we danced. But looks like I don’t have time to curl my hair—puke. There goes photos—out the other end. And finally, I knew I could not eat maybe ever again. My world was bile and shivering. I was really looking forward to having Puhg see me to the final improv show. It’s always such a fun night, and I was slated to play my favorite game. I waffled on calling Tail several times. Maybe it’s over? I slowly put on my pink dress and carefully crawled backstage. I did two warm-ups and said I wasn’t feeling up to it. I was green, everyone said. I missed the show. I was on, over, crying near the toilet for the next two hours instead. We ran out of water and the store was closed. I had a headache. At two AM I shuffled to the crew mess across the ship to drink two huge glasses of ice water and by the time I got back home I was chucking them up, bright yellow.

-I woke up weak but alive. I was determined to still squeeze some romance out of our last day together. NOLA City Park: Beautiful oak, historic diner, ponds of swans and ducklings. I was still not tip-top so we went slow and sat on a lot of benches. The best things: the outdoor sculpture garden—fascinating, finding a pond turtle scootin’ along that Puhg followed like a body guard until it plopped into water and swam away, and buying too-expensive but totally-worth-it tickets for the old carousel. It was almost 2 PM. I had a new cruise and he had a plane to catch. We took the kiddy train that circumnavigates all the green. My heart tore into little pieces.

-I felt choked walking to crew entrance, through security, past acquaintances in the halls with shopping bags and smiles. A cheap one was plastered on my face. I was hungry but disgusted by all food, and I opened the door to my single looking so empty. I lay down and cried, and when I couldn’t cry anymore I slept, not answering my ringing telephone or checking what messages were behind the blinking lights.

Alice in Ship Land Six: All Aboard the Fussy Boat

-I only had two weeks on my library digital download loan for Americanah, which is a longer book. This meant lingering at the gym for a few extra reclining bike miles and early bedtimes with a side of my iPad. I finished one day early, and I felt accomplished. I had forgotten what deadlines felt like. Don’t get me wrong—not having them is nice. But having them is nice too.

-In Cozumel at the crew bar Say told us that you can jump off a large rock wall into the ocean twenty feet below. When I stood on the chalky ledge and looked down, my knees wobbled. I was assured me it was plenty deep. Folds did it first. He swam around, and we jumped together. I surprised myself by screaming. I hit the water with a salt splash to my nose.

-Because I didn’t go to Roatan this week I had Wednesday lunch and found my new favorite ship food—veggie BBQ fitters. Divine.

-Gratitude comes so easily. This is the best job I’ve ever had. This is a beautiful place. I am even grateful for the challenges—gently pushing me to become thicker skinned. I find myself whispering “thank you” like some whacked out Julia Eat Pray Love Roberts. The water is too teal, and sometimes “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone” playing over the café loudspeaker starts up right as I take the first sip of weak coffee.

-Apparently Doritos taste different in Mexico. I tell SAY I’ve never tried a Mexican Dorito. He brings me a bag Tuesday afternoon. I open it to accompany my viewing of two new episodes of Girls with MB. They taste more…garden-y? Maybe more green pepper? Yes, different. I chomp through half the bag. MB says, “Put those away.” And I say no. And then I skip dinner, sitting in the library outlining my next show.

-We play Hearts in the atrium. Folds accidentally shoots the moon and then tries to do it again. I talk a big game about how it’s fun even though we’re all losing. Like, a real underdog story. He has no idea I’m about to sweep the glory right out from under him with the kind of hearts in the final round. I do. I feel victorious and evil—things we shouldn’t strive to feel maybe, but things that are fun to feel once in a great while.

-Friday I woke up a little bit sick of the ship. So sick I opted to skip my workout, throw on my bikini, and head, alone, into Costa Maya. I imagined slurping the free wifi to download Instagram photos at a tortoise pace and the sun. The glorious sun as I sat in the saltwater pool. But when I left my cabin and walked up to the gangway…there was no gangway. I went back to my room, turned on the TV to the bowcam channel and saw open water. It was too wavy. We would not be porting. My heart sank into the ocean. I pulled back my hair and went to the gym. I listened to Kelly Clarkson not ironically. I tried. I really tried.

-At the start of the cruise I spied the tiny plush ship in the gift shop window. I told myself it was for a tough day. I am now the owner of a small stuffed boat.

-At night it was my turn to participate in the evening game show—a hack version of Dancing with the Stars (I am considered a star here). Audience members put their names in buckets, and “cruise celebs” partner with them in five rounds of dancing (with eliminations) to ultimately find a crowd favorite. It. Was. So. Fun. My partner was a 9^th grade teacher from Louisiana here on his honeymoon. His wife sat awkwardly in the front row as we pranced and danced and jived inappropriately to Sir Mix-A-Lot and “Footloose.” I really thought he was going to barf during “Cotton Eye Joe” but he swallowed it down. In the final round, the DJ spun “Time of Your Life” from Dirty Dancing. We decided we should try to execute the lift, but he told me he definitely wouldn’t be able to support my weight (thanks, bro). So he ran off the dance floor and leapt full on into my arms. I dropped him. We won. And, actually, I got a little of my groove back while holding that cheap plastic trophy.

-Saturday was grumpfest USA. Our cast was destroyed by the monotony of living inside a fun box, feet not touching land since Tuesday. I started the day in high spirits but slowly osmosised all the negativity until I was a puddle of woe by midnight. I felt asleep clutching my new friend (aforementioned plush novelty item) grateful Sunday brings the respite of a day in New Orleans.

-In my dream I was a time traveler who fell in love with another time traveler. He decided it wouldn’t work, so when we both had to go back to our respective eras, he refused to tell me his. I would never be able to find him. I woke up at 5:45.

-After a brisk powerwalk, I waited for the Coast Guard Drill. It didn’t happen. And it didn’t happen. And it still didn’t happen. And then it happened, at 10:15. Already two hours past when we usually are set free. I stood in the sun quietly with a lifejacket on until at last it was over. Two hours left of New Orleans day. Not enough. I practically ran to a restaurant I have been eyeing, promptly ate two brunch entrees, zipped over to the café with the best wifi, sent a couple professional emails while this week’s episodes of TV downloaded, and I was back on the big white manmade whale.

Alice in Shipland: One Week Down

Some things that have happened so far:

-In the middle of the week the producer took the cast out to a fancy French Bistro on board with SC footing the bill. I ordered four desserts.

-We have to wear Britney mics for our shows.

-I made friends with a guy from Albania during lifeboat drill.

-I accidentally fell asleep in a deck chair for twenty minutes on the first day at sea, and my right leg only got sunburned.

-In Mexico my roommate and I went to Cozumel Kmart for “essentials.” I bought a Hello Kitty pillow for my bed.

-I sleep on the top bunk, which is like a soft coffin. The ceiling is right in my face, but the room is pitch black at night, and the boat rocks me to sleep. Pictures of my friends surround me. And now I cuddle Hello Kitty’s fat face.

-The social dynamic within the cast is so specific to this experience. I don’t know some basic facts about most of my crew, but if something personal sprouts in the conversation everyone pretty much goes there because, well, we’re going to be together on this floating rock, so there’s no use hiding.

-Anxieties I haven’t felt since high school have reared their heads. I worry no one likes me.  Or I like everyone too much. In the wide world, none of that matters, but in ship world where there are SIX OF US, it can be scary. I have more empathy for people from small towns and the emotional turmoil that must entail.

-Crew bar is very cheap and very friendly. Everyone goes and hangs out there late into the night. One night the bar was moved from under the ship to above the pool deck. The wind was whipping so hard my hair grew a dreadlock, but I was outside in February, in shorts, laughing with new people, zooming over the ocean at 1 AM. Not too bad.

-Things felt a little weird until our first show. I don’t do well sitting in situations where my purpose has not been revealed yet. The sketch show—while a typical canon of safe and family friendly jokey joke scenes—felt huge. Hundreds of people were hooting at us. Surreal.

-I am nobody until show night, and then I am a mini-celebrity. Especially if a couple or more of us are walking through the pool deck, passengers smile and wave.

-In real life I listen to Spotify for all my music needs, which means I’m usually pumping whatever tunes have recently caught my ear. Now I am alone with my iPod that hasn’t been updated since college. I run the track above the food court and remember all of the albums that meant so much to me at a very different time.

-I love my roommate MB. I missed female sounding boards when I left Arizona, and I feel like the world plopped this queer tiny room with two people situation into my lap as a response. We slap on pjs and girl talk into the dark tiled void.

-I like the rest of the cast too--including the producer and director who were on board for the first week. Some highlights include doing magic tricks and playing late night celebrity in a conference room, sitting in the swanky Star Bar after our first show, rehearsing a murder mystery in a restaurant alcove.

-Once a week I visit port in New Orleans, which is where I write this now. I have felt fidgety a few times, maybe fussy, but back on land perspective flows easily, and I am so looking forward to the rest of this adventure.