January 12, 2010 ( At Sea)


Steve is sprawled on the bed, passed out from Dramamine, as I type away. We are back in the Atlantic Ocean, on our way south to Lisbon, Portugal. The waves started to build back up around 2 AM and are now peaking at 23 feet and coming in two directions. Pitch and Roll introduced “Shudder” today. The grand trio! Yeeee Ha! It’s like being on Space Mountain in Disneyland. To add to the drama…gale force winds and sleet have closed ALL the decks – so no one can escape outside. Cue the scary music…

We are told that copious creaking is a good sign in rough weather. When the creaking stops… that’s trouble. Why, do you ask? Well-built ships creak because they have flexible joints. A “stiff ship” will be crushed by the waves instead of moving in harmony with them. Although admirable, it’s a difficult attribute to appreciate when lying awake with hours to kill before dawn. To amuse myself, I played “Name that Creak!” in my head. Is this how schizophrenia starts? Then I switched to the “What Object Will Fall Off the Shelf Next?” game with a bonus round of “And Will It Hit Me”?

I readily admit to being a “wave junkie”. Their power. Their majesty. Their fierceness. Their ability to mesmerize and hypnotize. Each one is beautifully unique, just like snowflakes. If I nudge Steve awake to share this pithy insight with him, he might have a few choice words of his own to interject… shall I?


We are never “directly warned” of bad weather to come. Instead, we are given notes like this one yesterday…

“Princess Grill guests are advised that for your comfort the cocktail party scheduled for tomorrow evening in your honour has been postponed until after we depart from Lisbon…”

For Our Comfort? Read between the lines (with a british accent please).

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