Set the Controls For the Heart of Fun!
You could say that I was "lost at sea," "trapped at sea," or you could use any other Maritime cliche for an existential crisis at your disposal to characterize my predicament. None of them would be quite true. My wife and I enjoyed the most restful sleep we'd experienced in months. The room was so dark that the Hamburger Mothership could've been floating in front of my face and I'd have neither known nor cared. There were snorkeling expeditions lined up. I'd always wanted to snorkel. Snorkeling would be exciting. There were water slides, the putt-putt golf course, slot machines, and extravagant Maritime theatrical productions. Yes indeed, the Carnival Magic put the merry time in Maritime, to use a cliche about fun on a boat.
After our first meal, my wife and I went back to the room and turned on the TV. Every other channel was dedicated to the Magic. One channel displayed the ship's coordinates. Another informed cruisers of the fun to be had sniffing out duty-free bargains in the Magic's shops. The ship seemed insatiably starved for attention. We agreed that that was really weird.
While flipping through channels, we caught our first glimpse of the cruise director. If recollection serves, there were at least two channels devoted to him. He looks about what he sounds like, meaning that he fancies tight shirts and trousers. He's young looking, maybe too young looking for the lofty position of Fun Manager for a 4000-capacity ship. He talks as much on television as he does on intercoms, and he loves the camera. He's the ship's biggest celebrity, bigger than the captain, from whom we heard not a word the entire trip, which, when I think about it, is comforting. Seeing the cruise director on TV didn't make me like him any more.
To be fair, the cruise director was the spokesperson for most of the ship's affairs, many of which were of a practical nature. He told us how to put on life jackets, how to order room service, and how track down lost luggage. The last of those proved to be useful to us. I'd packed a suit for the express purpose of putting it on to eat in the dining hall, and it hadn't been delivered by the promised time of 6 PM the day we set sail. As instructed, we went to Guest Services and, sure enough, the suit had been stowed away in lost and found. The desk clerk handed it to me like rats had been mating in it, and she was really friendly about it.
I don't know who would have been in charge of disseminating information if the ship had run out of food and gas or into a iceberg in the middle of the Caribbean. I like to think that he and the captain would have fought for control over the intercom, the cruise director arguing that he'd established a unique trust with the passengers, the captain arguing that he's the captain and that he's been waiting since the ship set sail for any opportunity to throw the cruise director overboard, if for no other reason than peace and quiet. Maybe their tussle would have been captured by the intercom for all the passengers to hear. That would have been fun the cruise director didn't plan.
I'm not sure whether the cruise director dreamed up Carnival Magic's slogan; if so, he's as licentious as I am. The channel that displayed the ship's coordinates had the slogan sprayed all over the top of the screen: Fun For All, and All For Fun.
It's been a week-and-a-half since we've returned, and I'm sitting here unsure of the slogan's meaning. Does "Fun For All" mean that Carnival is responsible for providing the fun as fashioned by the cruise director? Does "All For Fun," place responsibilities on the passenger? Does "Fun For All" make it incumbent on him to have fun because if he doesn't, the cruise director's plans fall apart and nobody has fun? What if the slogan had been "Fun For All, Or All For Fun?" Unless you knew the slogan before booking the trip (What sensible person would go on a trip that bears a slogan like that?), or you were willing to jump ship and swim to something you think is fun, it doesn't matter. Three things that are certain right now is that I'm having fun at the cruise director's expense, the cruise director didn't plan on a passenger having fun a week-and-a-half later with the cute little slogan he cooked up, and that the cruise director is a weasel for many reasons, including that slogan.
Fun For All!
Throughout, I've mentioned some of the activities the cruise director had in store for us. There were plenty more, of which I'll name but a few: hot tubs, slot machines, swimming pools, room service, and oceans of booze. Duty-free cigarettes, too, which are still for fun for me a week-and-a-half later. I can't leave out Asian Led Zeppelin. There were probably plenty more that were staring me right in the face the whole time. Sadly, for me, eating wasn't a high-priority fun activity for the cruise director. He wanted to be able to squeeze into his trousers.
There was more variety of fun than there was of sausages for breakfast, so much that no one could possibly take advantage of it all unless he booked consecutive cruises for the rest of the year, and maybe even then. My wife and I enjoyed the hot tubs, pools, and late-night room service, and I really enjoyed sinking into the cushy casino chairs and listening to Asian Led Zeppelin.
I also enjoyed long, mid-afternoon Klonopin naps. I hope the cruise director doesn't get wind of that, lest he shake his finger at me and accuse me of shirking my duties to him and, by extension, my fellow passengers. He planned loud activities on the Lido Deck during those hours, and that's how I thanked him, by conking out on prescription drugs. Didn't I hear his morning announcements? Don't I believe in bounding out of bed before sunrise, taking methamphetamine, and squeezing into my Speedo before the bacon hits the buffet? I wouldn't mind the accusations so much; in fact, I'd welcome them if I they weren't in his voice. Watching him shake his finger and get mad at me would be fun, though. So would telling him what I believe in.
While flipping through channels, we caught our first glimpse of the cruise director. If recollection serves, there were at least two channels devoted to him. He looks about what he sounds like, meaning that he fancies tight shirts and trousers. He's young looking, maybe too young looking for the lofty position of Fun Manager for a 4000-capacity ship. He talks as much on television as he does on intercoms, and he loves the camera. He's the ship's biggest celebrity, bigger than the captain, from whom we heard not a word the entire trip, which, when I think about it, is comforting. Seeing the cruise director on TV didn't make me like him any more.
To be fair, the cruise director was the spokesperson for most of the ship's affairs, many of which were of a practical nature. He told us how to put on life jackets, how to order room service, and how track down lost luggage. The last of those proved to be useful to us. I'd packed a suit for the express purpose of putting it on to eat in the dining hall, and it hadn't been delivered by the promised time of 6 PM the day we set sail. As instructed, we went to Guest Services and, sure enough, the suit had been stowed away in lost and found. The desk clerk handed it to me like rats had been mating in it, and she was really friendly about it.
I don't know who would have been in charge of disseminating information if the ship had run out of food and gas or into a iceberg in the middle of the Caribbean. I like to think that he and the captain would have fought for control over the intercom, the cruise director arguing that he'd established a unique trust with the passengers, the captain arguing that he's the captain and that he's been waiting since the ship set sail for any opportunity to throw the cruise director overboard, if for no other reason than peace and quiet. Maybe their tussle would have been captured by the intercom for all the passengers to hear. That would have been fun the cruise director didn't plan.
I'm not sure whether the cruise director dreamed up Carnival Magic's slogan; if so, he's as licentious as I am. The channel that displayed the ship's coordinates had the slogan sprayed all over the top of the screen: Fun For All, and All For Fun.
It's been a week-and-a-half since we've returned, and I'm sitting here unsure of the slogan's meaning. Does "Fun For All" mean that Carnival is responsible for providing the fun as fashioned by the cruise director? Does "All For Fun," place responsibilities on the passenger? Does "Fun For All" make it incumbent on him to have fun because if he doesn't, the cruise director's plans fall apart and nobody has fun? What if the slogan had been "Fun For All, Or All For Fun?" Unless you knew the slogan before booking the trip (What sensible person would go on a trip that bears a slogan like that?), or you were willing to jump ship and swim to something you think is fun, it doesn't matter. Three things that are certain right now is that I'm having fun at the cruise director's expense, the cruise director didn't plan on a passenger having fun a week-and-a-half later with the cute little slogan he cooked up, and that the cruise director is a weasel for many reasons, including that slogan.
Fun For All!
Throughout, I've mentioned some of the activities the cruise director had in store for us. There were plenty more, of which I'll name but a few: hot tubs, slot machines, swimming pools, room service, and oceans of booze. Duty-free cigarettes, too, which are still for fun for me a week-and-a-half later. I can't leave out Asian Led Zeppelin. There were probably plenty more that were staring me right in the face the whole time. Sadly, for me, eating wasn't a high-priority fun activity for the cruise director. He wanted to be able to squeeze into his trousers.
There was more variety of fun than there was of sausages for breakfast, so much that no one could possibly take advantage of it all unless he booked consecutive cruises for the rest of the year, and maybe even then. My wife and I enjoyed the hot tubs, pools, and late-night room service, and I really enjoyed sinking into the cushy casino chairs and listening to Asian Led Zeppelin.
I also enjoyed long, mid-afternoon Klonopin naps. I hope the cruise director doesn't get wind of that, lest he shake his finger at me and accuse me of shirking my duties to him and, by extension, my fellow passengers. He planned loud activities on the Lido Deck during those hours, and that's how I thanked him, by conking out on prescription drugs. Didn't I hear his morning announcements? Don't I believe in bounding out of bed before sunrise, taking methamphetamine, and squeezing into my Speedo before the bacon hits the buffet? I wouldn't mind the accusations so much; in fact, I'd welcome them if I they weren't in his voice. Watching him shake his finger and get mad at me would be fun, though. So would telling him what I believe in.
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