no time for losers

My wife and I went our first cruise together almost ten years ago. Mrs. Pincus had been on a cruise with her family the year before and, when she returned, she did a whole lot of convincing to get me on board (pun fully intended) with the idea.

Once our trip was booked, I really didn't know what to expect. My only frame of reference for going on a cruise was the nine seasons of The Love Boat I had watched and maybe the seven minute excursion into the faux wilderness that is the Jungle Cruise in Disneyland.

In the final week of May 2013, my wife, our luggage and I left New York City's Pier 88 for 7 days of fun aboard the Norwegian Gem. Sure, I knew about the the endless buffets, the spectacular ocean views, the endless buffets, the poolside relaxation, the lavish nighttime staged entertainment and the endless buffets, but I was still unclear about what else there was do occupy my time over the course of a week... you know, besides eating. Well, on Day One we were presented with a full itinerary of activities tailor-made to fit any and all interests. There were sports related activities like basketball and ping pong (not interested). There were seminars about investments (not interested). There were demonstrations of ice carving, cooking and the age-old art of towel folding (somewhat interested). But, my wife and I had a keen interest in the silly game competitions that offered throughout the day. 

At the time, there was a show on television called Minute To Win It inexplicably hosted by TV chef Guy Fieri. On the show, guests would compete against each other in silly little games with the hopes of winning money or prizes. The contests weren't on the level of the Olympics or any professional sports. They were more like the games one would play at a children's birthday party., like carrying an egg on a spoon from Point A to Point B or removing the shaving cream from an inflated balloon with a real, sharp razor. The enthusiastic staff of the Norwegian Gem created their own version of the TV game show, with similar stunts. The prizes, however were not nearly as desirable as those rewarded by a network television show. There were no big screen TVs or diamond bracelets or large stacks of cash. Instead, victors were given a deck of cards or a t-shirt, each emblazoned with the logo of the Norwegian Cruise Lines. Look, we were all there to have fun. We were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, away from our everyday lives and surrounded by obscene amounts of food twenty-four hours a day. We weren't physically-fit athletes competing for the honor of representing our respective countries on the world stage. The fact that we were being judged on our ability to stack plastic cups the fastest drove that message home.

For most of us, anyway.

There is something about a cruise that creates human bonding. As the days of a cruise progress, one-time strangers quickly become inseparable friends. I have likened this sea-worthy phenomenon to summer camp for adults. By the end of a cruise, close friendships are formed with folks that have only spent a short time together. These friendships sometimes extend beyond the confining rails of the port and starboard sides of a cruise ship. So, when the time came to choose sides for an hour of frivolous fun, "ship friends" paired up immediately as though these bonds had been in place for decades. Of course, there are a few introverts here and there, but the more gregarious would always welcome the few stragglers into the fray. On one particular session of Norwegian Minute to Win It, a young lady who was sailing alone, expressed a desire to participate in the fun. She was happily welcomed onto a team and the "competition" commenced.

The first round of play involved something with balloons or cotton balls or plastic horseshoes either being tossed or passed or balanced on top of each other. Whatever the object of the game was, everyone was laughing and goofing around and having all the fun they could possibly muster. Some participants were already drunk, which made for an even livelier time. Balls were dropped. Balloons were popped and laughter filled the air. The young lady who was sailing alone began to seethe. She frowned and glared at her teammates. When time was called for this round, her team had placed last. The winning team members were each honored with a cloth drink koozie printed with the NCL logo. The young lady who was sailing alone was furious. Visibly furious. The next game began and, again it was some sort of ridiculous endeavor using spongy balls or an assortment of plastic discs or maybe it employed balloons again. Whatever it was, everyone was having giddy fun. After all, that's what we were here for...
fun! 

Well, most of us, anyway.

The young lady who was sailing alone stomped her feet at the lack of concentration exhibited by her teammates. She saw that the other teams were making higher stacks of discs or popping more balloons or whatever they had to do. Her furrowed brow and clenched fists were strikingly out of place among the insanity that was prevalent among the other competitors. When Round Two concluded and each member of the winning team was presented with a reusable drink cup displaying the familiar NCL logo, the young lady who was sailing alone had had just about enough. Before the next feat was announced, the young lady who was sailing alone raised her voice and announced, "I quit! I will not play any game where I don't win!" She glared with a squinted accusatory eye at everyone before storming off to.... who knows where. We were still in the middle of the ocean, so there weren't too many places to go to avoid your former teammates. Every one was silent for a few seconds, until the air was split with a round of collective nervous laughter. Then we all readied our balloons or mini Frisbees for round number three.

Over the course of the next few days, one couldn't help but run into the young lady who was sailing alone. We saw her at the buffet. We saw her by the pool. We saw her queuing up at the ship's showroom for that evening's performance. 

Everyone saw her, but no one said a word. Almost ten years later, someone wrote about her.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

sea change

Before everything went to shit due to the global COVID-19 pandemic, Mrs. Pincus and I had a cruise booked for the final week of October 2020. I had scheduled for the time off from work (a new job I had started full-time in February). At the end of the work day on March 13, my employer informed everyone to take home their desk computers and instructions on how to log on to the company network were distributed via email. After six weeks of "working from home," my entire department (as well as others) was dissolved and every employee — save for a skeleton crew — was let go. 

Industries across the country were shutting down, having employees work from home where applicable. Businesses that operated with patrons in close proximity — amusement parks, movie theaters, concert and sports venues — were shuttered. And all cruise lines discontinued all scheduled cruises for a few months. Our October cruise was nearly paid-in-full. With no regular income — except for my meager unemployment insurance payment — the price of a cruise is money that we could use for other, more essential needs. The problem is, if we canceled the trip, we would be penalized. We would stand to lose a portion of our deposit that we could not afford to lose. So, we would have to wait.... patiently. When you are stuck in your house for eleventy thousand weeks with no job, patience is not very easy to come by.

As the weeks of quarantine turned into months of quarantine, cruise lines were regularly assessing the safety and logistics of re-starting business. Mrs. Pincus and I closely followed the proposed scenarios and alternate procedures being suggested by cruise lines. We weren't too pleased with the solutions and how temporary or permanent they'd need to be.

Well, in a cavalcade of mixed feelings, our October cruise was canceled by Carnival. We, of course, were disappointed that we would not be going on a cruise. We were relieved, however, that we would not have to make what could possibly be a life-or-death decision about taking a cruise. Carnival made that decision for us. And we were offered a full refund of everything we had paid to date... which was, indeed, everything.

My wife and I began to assess the future of cruising. Since our first cruise seven years ago, my wife and I have become very enthusiastic about going on cruises. We like what we like about cruising. I assume that everyone who takes a cruise likes it for specific activities, even if they are different from the ones we like. We have a great time, which, based on my feelings before my first cruise, is very surprising to me. Sure, nearly every cruise we have taken was identical, but that's the experience we enjoy. We like to play trivia games. We like to go to the buffet. (I really like to go to the buffet!) We like the kitschy entertainment. We like meeting new people that we probably will never see again — but, thanks to the magic of the internet, can maintain a friendship as though they lived right next door. But, under the current circumstances as defined by the malevolent coronavirus, all the things we love about cruising will have to change. And that's the part we are wrestling with. Do we really want to take a cruise that is a completely different experience than our previous cruises? 

Well, the buffets would have to be eliminated to cut down on so many different people handling plates and serving utensils... not to mention those travelers who just handle the actual food with their hands.

Showrooms would have to reconfigure seating to allow for social distancing. Heck, the entire ship would have difficulty maintaining social distancing, from the narrow corridors, to the cramped, but mandatory muster drills, to the closeness of seating in the main dining rooms, sometimes with total strangers.

Our beloved trivia games would need to keep participants six feet apart, leading to players taking up huge areas of lounges and forcing the activity's host to speak even louder, repeating questions and stretching play time way past the time allotted for the event. Multiply that by every on-board activity for the entire week and I see a lot of disappointed passengers. Plus, there is the intimacy of bars and discos and swimming and water slides and sports.... ecchhh! it's a mess. Then there's the issue of other people not following the rules. And people on cruises love to not follow the rules. I don't think I want to spend the money for a cruise and not get the cruise I am used to. Until I am sure the cruise industry will go back to the way it was — the way I'm used to — Mrs. Pincus and I will have to pass, albeit reluctantly.

When this is all over (when ever that is), will we define our life timeline as BC (Before COVID-19) and AC (After COVID-19)? 

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

good morning here's the news

“I hate the news!” – Roger Rabbit

I stopped watching the news in 2016, just after the last Presidential election. I lost faith in the caliber of reporting offered by the major networks including CNN. I grew irritated with the news anchors, reporters and guest commentators. They were no longer reporting the news. Instead they were creating sensationalized stories that were introduced with jarring teasers that ultimately ended with empty non-stories. In addition, all news broadcasts became political quagmires and it was making my head spin. So I stopped watching. I switched to my local newscasts, only paying attention to Philadelphia-focused stories, weather forecasts and tales of how poorly the Philadelphia Phillies were performing. Otherwise, I never watched any television news broadcasts.

This doesn’t mean I was uninformed. I still read headlines on Yahoo’s homepage on the internet, electing to read further if a particular headline caught my attention. If this occurred, I would only read two or three sentences, which was usually enough to get the gist of the story. I also stayed informed by logging on to Twitter, where a “hot button” topic was presented, critiqued and hilariously mocked by the select group of sarcastic assholes (and I mean that with the highest respect) I choose to follow.

During the (now anticlimactic) Mueller Report, I began watching CNN with my wife again. Nothing had changed. It was the same rehashing of extreme commentary and blown-out-of-proportion reporting that we had previously turned off in disgust.

It's the end of the world as we know it...

I have only seen bits and pieces of the right-wing propaganda mouthpiece that is Fox News, mostly in clips shown during pointed jabs on HBO's "Last Week Tonight with John Oliver." I consider myself a liberal and have only ever voted for Democratic candidates in any election*, so I naturally gravitated towards news reports that appear to be more left-leaning, but I have come to the conclusion that CNN is no different from Fox. They both use the exact same methods and tactics to report the same stories, except Fox takes the extreme right view point and CNN takes the extreme left view. Otherwise, they are identical.

So, I stopped watching national news again. I was sick of politics.

...and I feel fine.

My wife and I are preparing for another cruise with stops in the Caribbean, including Freeport in The Bahamas. At the end of August, that part of the Caribbean was hit – and hit hard – by Hurricane Dorian. We watched The Weather Channel in horror as live pictures of hundred-mile-per-hour winds and torrential rains ripped through the frail structures of Freeport, obliterating everything in its path. At one point, Mrs. P changed the channel to CNN. There was nothing political about a hurricane. We expected straight reporting about a weather phenomenon. We wanted to see professional, qualified reporters offering insight and documentation of the devastation occurring in a major tourist area – one that we would be visiting shortly. Instead – and keeping with CNN’s “lowest common denominator” style, we heard sensationalized editorializing that would have been more suited to a live report about Armageddon. We have seen reports of this nature usually reserved for winter storm predictions. But now we were witnessing solemn-faced news anchors with wide eyes and slow, deliberate deliveries, make vague blanket statements, leading viewers to believe that the entirety of the Bahamian Islands were, at this point, merely a memory. In reality, Freeport and the surrounding areas suffered the brunt of Dorian’s wrath. However, the Bahamas is an archipelago of 700 islands. Nassau, a popular stop for many cruise lines, sits on the island of New Providence, 130 miles away from Freeport. While Nassau received its share of the storm, it only experienced minimal damage. CNN made it seem as though the Bahamas were wiped from the face of the earth. They showed the same footage of flooding and played the same audio of people pleading and crying, without once clarifying that this was limited to the Freeport area and that most other parts of the Bahamas were spared. In my opinion, this was inaccurate and irresponsible reporting.

Network news has become entertainment. The focus is on ratings – getting the viewer to stick around and not change the channel. Reporting the actual news is waaaaay down on the priority list.

I won’t be watching the news anymore. Besides, it cuts into my Andy Griffith Show time.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

*mostly due to residual feelings about the Republican-leaning voting records of my bigoted father and my bigoted grandmother.

questions 67 and 68

Mrs. Pincus and I are the veterans of many a cruise. As I write this, we have just returned from one a few weeks ago and are currently planning to depart on another a few weeks from now. Yes, it seems that we have become the people that I made fun of on our first cruise. I originally balked at the thought of taking a cruise, but now, after seven (soon to be eight), I actually look forward to a week at sea. Not so much the "sea" part, but the week itself.

Cruises offer many things to many people and you can do as much or as little as you like. Each day, a list of activities arrives at your cabin, making it easy to plan the day ahead. There is literally something for everyone — from physical activities like table tennis and wall climbing to seminars about aging or pain management to art auctions and jewelry shows. Of course there are workout rooms and swimming pools and several hot tubs available. We, however, participate in none of those. Hell, I have never brought a bathing suit with me. I don't even own a bathing suit. We lean towards the activities that exercise the ol' noggin — trivia quizzes. Every day, in an informal setting, there are organized trivia contests that test passengers' knowledge of useless subjects like "One Hit Wonders" or the finer details of various television shows or just obscure general knowledge. A host from the ship's "entertainment" staff reads a list of twenty questions on a particular, pre-determined subject and participants scribble down the answers on a sheet of paper. After the last question is read, the answers are revealed and the correct answers are tallied — usually on the honor system — and a winner is crowned. Carnival Cruise Lines award winners with the coveted "Ship on a Stick," a plastic, gold-toned replica of a Carnival ship resting upon a pair of laurel branches affixed to a base emblazoned with the ship's name. These "trophies" are inexplicably, yet highly, sought after. When Mrs. Pincus and I sailed on the Carnival Sunshine in 2016, we played a lot of trivia and took home eleven of the little trinkets. We answered questions about Seinfeld and Star Trek and James Bond — pulling out answers we didn't know we knew. We showed up late to a session of General Knowledge, missing the first five questions... and we still won a trophy. On Day Three of our trip, my wife and I were getting ice cream from the 24-hour-a-day soft serve machine (yes, you read that right), when we were approached by a couple that we did not know. The fellow asked us if we were going to the "Harry Potter" trivia the following day. We smiled and said we would, but admitted that we knew absolutely nothing about the young wizard and his adventures. He exhaled in relief, adding that maybe now he'd have a chance at winning a trophy.

On our most recent cruise, we garnered eight "Ships on a Stick" (or is it "Ship on a Sticks?") by week's conclusion. We totally blanked on quizzes about The Office, The Big Bang Theory and Game of Thrones — three very popular series of which we have never seen a single episode. Even with some assistance from two generations of younger cousins (who were also sailing with us), we did terribly on Full House and Friends trivia. The questions were too "episode specific," although the eventual winners scored in the high double digits. And for the ubiquitous Harry Potter trivia quiz, I answered "Hogwarts" for every question, expecting to get at least one correct. I scored zero.

On our penultimate evening, Mrs. P and I carefully packed up our faux gold spoils along with our clothing and toiletries. We were congratulated by a few of our fellow passengers, some of whom we even remembered from various trivia sessions throughout the week. We arrived home, unpacked and our glory faded away.

Mrs. Pincus is active in a few cruise groups on Facebook, including a group for our upcoming cruise. The discussion in the group turned to the elusive "Ship on a Stick." Some folks express their disappointment at not being able to secure one of their own. Others lamented that some people won more than their fair share. Accusation of cheating began to be bandied about. There were claims that participants who paid for the pricey shipboard internet package were covertly "Googling" the answers, thus unjustly acquiring their plastic ship. Mrs. P and I were offended by this notion. We do not cheat. We just know a lot of stupid, useless stuff that comes in handy as conversation starters — or enders, as the case may be. We watch Jeopardy! every night and regularly have in-depth discussions about the intricacies of television programs that have been off the air for decades. (yeah... that's our life and we've been married for thirty-five years, so go pound sand!) We just know stuff. Besides, why on earth would we cheat? To win a piece of plastic and bask in the glory and admiration of a bunch of people we will never ever see again.... in the middle of the goddamn ocean?!? Someone else in the group suggested that the cruise lines should offer cash prizes for winners, instead of a worthless trophy. I can tell you that will never happen. It appears that some people don't know how to relax and enjoy the absurdity of the whole thing. If we don't win (and there are plenty of activities that we don't win), we still had fun. Whether it was silly fun or friendly competitive fun, fun is fun. Everyone is on vacation. Leave worries and concerns and real life behind. That's what a vacation is for.

On one of our first cruises, we were playing a silly stunt game with a bunch of passengers that we did not know. Based on the recent game show Minute to Win It, teams were chosen and a series of timed games were played for points. After the third or fourth round of play involving the stacking of empty soda bottles on plastic rings (or some such nonsense), a frustrated young lady on one team loudly announced that she was quitting. Realizing that her team was behind in points, she growled, "I will not be on a team that isn't going to win! I have to win or I won't play!" and she stormed off. The other participants were dumbfounded. The games continued. A team won and the other team offered congratulations. We saw the young lady several times throughout the course of the cruise and pointed her out, relating her actions in hushed tones to other cruisers who had become our "cruise friends." We have brought up her story on subsequent cruises, as well.

In a few weeks, we'll be boarding another ship for another cruise filled with consecutive days of trivia, perhaps more trophies, and, of course, fun.. 

Oh, and there's a buffet, too. I can't forget the real draw.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

I can't get next to you

My wife and I just returned from our sixth — count 'em sixth — cruise. Now, there's a sentence I never thought I'd see myself type. Don't get me wrong. I have enjoyed each and every one, but, honestly, they all have been very similar experiences. First of all, we are on vacation, so the level of energy we exert is minimal... as it should be. Sure, there are people aboard the ship who jog or exercise or swim or workout in the large gym. Not me. I don't do those things at home, so I am certainly not doing them on vacation. What I do most often is eat, as does the majority of the passengers. After all, cruise lines are famous for their sumptuous and abundant buffets, most available 24 hours a day.

First prize

Our typical day on the ship would be to wake up around 8 a.m. We dress and head out the the first session of trivia of the day. That's what we like to do: play trivia games. It's fun. It's silly and requires little to no energy... except for thinking. Considering that the prizes are usually some sort of cruise line branded tchotchke, we don't try to be especially competitive. Well, hardly ever. After winning trivia (yeah, we usually win. Either we are really smart or the other passengers are hungover), my wife and I find our way to the breakfast buffet. Our days are leisurely, relaxing and effortless. They are punctuated by mindless activities and eating. That may not sound like much of a vacation, but to paraphrase ol' Doc Brown from Back to the Future III: "Your cruise is whatever you make it, so make it a good one."

Some folks, however, spend a ton of money on a trip such as a cruise and have no idea how to relax. Or even how to interact with other people. Over the years, Mrs. P and I met many fellow passengers who were travelling as a single. Even on this most recent cruise, we met several people who were vacationing by themselves. But, they were friendly, personable and outgoing. Richard, one of the members of a Facebook group my wife joined prior to our trip, was a great guy. Funny, interesting — a real character. He even wrote a book that he allowed his cruise comrades to download to their Kindle for free. Mrs. Pincus, a supporter of the arts... I guess, purchased an actual copy. Richard was flattered, adding there's a possibility she may have purchased the only copy. George was a hoot. Tall and quite noticeable, George bore a striking resemblance to beloved teacher-turned-meth-dealer Walter White from TV's Breaking Bad. He stuck to his story that it was merely a costume (as we sailed over Hallowe'en), but I was leery. Again, George was traveling alone, but every time we saw him, he was in the center of a crowd — smiling and laughing and making the most of his cruise. There are people, though, that board the ship with luggage in their hand and a chip on their shoulder. We met one.

Single copy

A few days into our cruise, after mingling with the fun group of people at a pre-arranged gathering of the aforementioned Facebook group, Mrs. P and I spotted Richard sitting at a small table in O'Sheehan's, the signature Irish pub that is featured on nine Norwegian Cruise Line ships. I quickly made my way back to our cabin — just three decks up — to grab our copy of Richard's book and a black Sharpie with which he could inscribe the title page. In a flash, I returned and handed the book over to my wife. She took over the charade from there. We strode up to Richard, seated at his small table-for-one (as the opposing chair had been removed) and, as we feigned excitement,  Mrs. P announced, "Oh my gosh! Richard! Richard is on this ship!" Richard laughed and tried, unsuccessfully, to hide under his baseball cap. A few patrons craned their necks in our direction, trying to figure out if Richard was someone they should know. Mrs. P laid it on thick. "I have your book, Richard. Could you please sign it for me?," she implored with faux adoration. Richard, who, of course, we had met earlier, played along, dramatically signing the book with an exaggerated flourish. We stood by Richard's table chatting briefly while he waited for his lunch order to arrive. We flanked Richard's table as we talked. A few minutes later, a waitress led a gentleman to the table across the narrow aisle from Richard. I could see, in my peripheral vision, the man was not sitting. Instead, he stood at attention alongside his chair. We continued our talk with Richard, but I could see that the man at the next table, still standing, was shifting his weight from one foot to the other. From his body language, he seemed to be quite annoyed. The waitress returned and asked if everything was okay. "I'm just waiting for someone.," he replied. He remained standing, when suddenly, he tapped my wife on the shoulder. Mrs. P turned to him. Through clenched teeth, he seethed, "You are making me very uncomfortable by hovering near my table! Could you move?" Mrs. P apologized. "I'm so sorry," she said, "I'm glad you said something." We sort of scooted over to the other side of Richard's table. By this time, his lunch had arrived. We told him we'd catch up with him later. As we left O'Sheehan's, my wife, once again, apologized to the "hover table" guy. He grumbled under his breath at Mrs. P's parting atonement.

Too close...

At first, we felt bad. But, the more we thought about it, the more we realized the absurdity of that guy's reaction and behavior. Here he is, on a ship by himself, with 4000 passengers — and he's angry because someone was standing near him?!? Hey dude, if you don't like people standing near you, a cruise ship is the last place you should be. At some point during the week, someone is gonna be near you.

The next morning, Mrs. Pincus and I were in the Garden Cafe, the ship's buffet, finishing up breakfast. Suddenly, I saw the "hover table" guy place a plate filled with breakfast foods at a table just a few feet from where we were sitting. He turned and headed toward the self-serve beverage area and grabbed a coffee mug from the rack. I jokingly said that I was going to stand next to his table when he returned. I watched the "hover table guy" reach to dispense himself some coffee by jutting his hand right in front of another passenger who was also getting coffee. Again, he reached right across this poor man's personal space to grab a few sugar packets. Then, he lumbered back to his table, a scowl across his face, and seated himself at his breakfast plate. Then, he bowed his head and crossed himself. My wife frowned and commented, loud enough for me to hear, but not so loud that the "hover table" guy could hear: "Did Jesus teach you how to be rude to your fellow man?"

... for comfort.

Now, I'm not one to knock anybody's religious beliefs.... well, actually, I am..... but I cannot be alone in the feeling of blatant contradiction between multiple instances of rude behavior and the pious act of bowing one's head in prayer and (I assume) gratitude towards a "higher being." Didn't I once hear something about: "Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself" (that one is right from Leviticus.... that's the Bible). I think that includes telling someone to move and reaching your arm across someone's personal space to get a cup of coffee for yourself.

I'll bet this guy's neighbor probably lives too close for his liking.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

tell it like it is

Mrs. Pincus and I recently returned from our fifth cruise together. It was a relaxing, work-free week of kitchy shows, fun activities, forgettable excursions and stuffing our faces with food as though we were prisoners offered our final meal before lethal injections were administered.

The glorious buffet aboard the Norwegian Gem.

As I said, this is my fifth cruise. I admit that I balked at cruising for many years until I finally gave in and — much to my surprise — I enjoyed the experience. Honestly, what's not to enjoy? Well, you'd be surprised by how many people do not enjoy themselves. In between numerous visits to the endless buffet and reclining on one of hundreds of chaise lounges, my wife and I met a couple who told us that this particular cruise was their sixty-first. That's correct! They are veterans of sixty-one cruises — with no signs of stopping any time soon. (They have another already planned for the latter part of this year.) The wife, Lil, told us about a website called Cruise Critic, sort of a yelp.com exclusively for cruises. So, after a week of self-imposed cellphone deprivation (Internet rates on a cruise ship are ridiculously expensive, besides, it would've seriously cut into my buffet time.), I logged on to the Cruise Critic website to see what other people thought of the Norwegian Gem, the ship on which we sailed.

Look at this selection!

Now, I am well aware of how cruel the internet can be. People have no problem voicing their most vicious opinions in a public forum under the protective guise of internet anonymity. (As an example and a barometer, may I direct your attention to the one-star reviews of The Diary of Anne Frank on Amazon.com.) As I perused the reviews of recent cruises posted by vacationers whom, I assume, experienced a similar cruise to the one from which Mrs. P and I just returned, I was stunned. There were complaints about every single thing. The beds were too hard. The beds were too soft. The pillows were too hard. The pillows were too soft. There wasn't enough food available for my strict specialized lactose-intolerant, gluten-free, tree nut-sensitive dietary restrictions. The food was horrible. They ran out of food. They didn't have the right kind of Cheerios. The staff was rude. The other passengers were rude. The bartenders didn't know how to mix cocktails. The bartenders were rude. The bartenders were rude when they were trying to mix cocktails. The casino was too smoky. The casino wasn't smoky enough, The hot tubs were closed at 4 o'clock in the morning. The bitching went on and on. The more I read, the more absurd the complaints got. One, in particular, spun a tale about an abusive relationship that played out in the cabin next to the reviewer. Despite several complaints to security, nothing was immediately done to quiet the loud threats emanating from the paper-thin walls of his neighbor's cabin. Eventually, the reviewer related, the couple were separated and the husband was thrown into the ship's jail for the remainder of the cruise. (I seriously doubt that there is a "ship's jail.")

Look, I complain about plenty of things. Some things I complain about, I'll admit, are stupid. For instance, I marvel at how people lined up at the breakfast buffet give you the "look of death" for taking the last waffle from the serving tray, as though there aren't going to be ten more tons of waffles coming in about three seconds... and all week! But, I digress.

I've been on five cruises and, unless you've been forced to walk the plank or ordered to swab the poopdeck (heh! heh! poopdeck!), there is literally nothing to complain about. You're on vacation! You're relaxed! You're waited on hand and foot!  There are endless supplies of food! Endless! And many people (not me, but many people) are drunk for the entire week. What on earth (or sea) is there to complain about?

But, humans do what humans do best. And humans do love to complain.

And complain they shall.

www.joshpincusiscrying.com

rum, sodomy and the lash

Remember that contrasting scene in James Cameron's Titanic when Rose's family was elegantly enjoying a dignified tea on the top deck of the fated ocean liner while Leonardo DiCaprio and his grimy comrades, confined to the lower bowels of steerage, partied their asses off with steamy dancing and readily-flowing liquor?

Mrs. Pincus and I just returned from our fourth cruise together in as many years. She had taken a cruise five years ago with her family and members of her sister-in-law's extended family. I maintained that there wasn't a ship big enough to get me to accompany that crew, stuck in the middle of the ocean for eight days. Besides, I don't recall being invited on that trip to begin with.

Just as I predicted after my first cruise, all cruises are pretty much the same. Sure there are some slight differences — different people, different ports (although our first three cruises had the exact same itinerary) — but, for the most part, the basic experience is the same. You eat, you lay out by the pool, you see a depressed Caribbean city, you eat some more, you see a hokey show, you eat.... well, you get it. It's not a bad time. It's just the same time. This is what happens when you take a cruise. Just like this is what happens when you go to the dentist. You sit in a chair. Your teeth get poked at. You get it.

So, I was convinced that the "cruise experience" is similar from one trip to another, from one cruise line to another. My beliefs were seriously altered, however, when Mrs. P and I innocently wandered into a darkened nightclub aboard the Carnival Sunshine on our second day at sea. The late evening event was billed in the daily "Fun Guide" schedule as "Karaoke (18+)." It was a deceiving description considering what was transpiring. Sure, we had watched karaoke on other ships. Hey, we even participated a few years ago, nearly clearing the room with our gut-wrenching (and ear-splitting) rendition of Marty Robbins' classic cowboy ballad "El Paso." But, this particular evening, we were merely observers... and "observe" we did. We took a cozy seat in a curved, padded booth several rows from the small stage. The DJ was already calling the name of the next karaoke performer. A young lady approached the microphone amid a barrage of whoops and hollers from a stage-side table jammed with her travelling companions. The prerecorded music began and she belted out a horribly off-key take on Mary Wells' Motown classic "My Guy." Despite her cacophonous performance, the crowd ate it up, especially when she punctuated the song's rhythmic back-beat with a series of pelvic gyrations and suggestive shimmying. When the song concluded, the audience erupted in cheers and accolades, not unlike a Sunday service at an AME church. (Can I get a "Hallelujah?") She was followed by another woman who offered her version of the late Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," complete with the same provocative repertoire of physical alacrity. Midway through the song, a young man joined her onstage, draping a lanky arm around her shoulders. He pressed himself close to the singer and began nuzzling her neck. The air was filled with primal catcalls and unintelligible chatter. Each subsequent amateur performer was equally as titillating and was cheered with equal salaciousness. The evening climaxed with a foursome of young men delivering an unrecognizable tune (unrecognizable by me and the missus, anyway), one of whom bestowed a personal lap dance to a woman in the front row — a woman old enough to be his mother. Actually, it may have been his mother. The DJ thanked all the participants, as well as the audience, and everyone grabbed what was left of their drinks and filed out of the club. My wife and I exchanged puzzled glances. It was as though we were at a party, but weren't on the guest list. We weren't shunned or told to leave, but, we were not overtly welcomed either. We were just, kind of, ignored and left to ourselves, even though we were in full view of everyone. It was a very odd and palpable vibe.

The coveted ship on a stick.

A few evenings later, we spotted another late-night, adults only event cryptically listed as "Carnival Quest" on the schedule. Angelo, a very friendly member of the ship's entertainment staff, encouraged us to come to "Carnival Quest," but recommended, as first-timers, that we watch rather than participate. It turns out that "Carnival Quest" is merely a risqué Scavenger Hunt, and, judging from the throng of eager participants, it's quite popular and very familiar to regular "cruisers." Before beginning, the room was carefully scanned for anyone under the age of eighteen. Those not meeting age requirements were promptly shown the door. Then, the host divided the anxious group into teams and distributed laminated cards displaying each team's number. He announced that there would be a series of challenges, with the winning team awarded a fabulous prize. (As we learned, a "fabulous prize" on a Carnival cruise ship is a plastic trophy and a bottle of the worst champagne available.) The host also warned that those who may be offended by foul language and the occasional exposed body part should exit the nightclub at this time. Everyone laughed and no one left.

Hold the muster.

The first challenge was easy and innocuous. The elected captain of each team had to present a passenger ID card with a "B" muster station. (For those who have never taken a cruise, your vacation begins with a lifeboat drill prior to launch. Passengers gather at various designated points throughout the ship. These places are known by the nautical moniker "muster stations." Anxious and somewhat annoyed passengers stand around and watch crew members in colorful vests scramble about with clipboards and whistles until they are given the "all clear." At this point, drinking promptly resumes.) So, team members produced their individual IDs until they found one labeled "B." The entries were counted and the next challenge was announced. This was where things began to take a turn. A male member, selected from each team, must present himself front and center... dressed as a woman. Mrs. P and I noticed things were getting a little weird. We saw a few girls around the room remove a lacy sweater or a pair of high heels and force those articles on to a giggling male teammate. Other women, however, brought extra clothing — bras, jewelry, boas — with them. Within minutes, seven men were paraded around the room, all sporting some sort of women's wear. All — I repeat: all — were wearing bras on the outside of their clothing. The non-participating audience was in stitches, as it was quite a sight to see. It was unlike anything I had seen on three previous cruises. The next challenge was the opposite of the previous one. A female teammate was to be clad in men's clothing. The same amount of clambering took place, as petite young ladies were fitted with baseball caps, sunglasses and oversize T-shirts. One imaginative girl jammed an aluminum beer bottle into the crotch of her shorts to give the illusion of an erection. It was truly inspired. The next task was to show the host an X-rated photo on a cellphone. A few teams began scrolling through the gallery of digital images stored on their phones. Others began shoving their phones into their pants and snapping off a few quick shots.

This is probably all you need to see
of "The Human Centipede." Trust me.

The final two challenges were the most outrageous of all. One was an ass-shaking competition ("twerking" as it has come to be known) followed by a recreation of your favorite scene from your favorite pornographic film. Considering that most teams were comprised of total strangers, inhibitions took a back seat. Music blared and asses shook. A lot. An awful lot... until, after intense deliberation over each trembling posterior, an impartial squad of judges chose a winner. Then troupes from each team assembled and, while remaining fully clothed (for the most part, although a couple of women quickly discarded their tops, comfortably performing their scene in just a bra), fondled and spanked and whipped and kissed and bumped and ground into each other  — male, female, old, young. There was plenty of uninhibited, although simulated, (as far as I could tell from my vantage point) fellatio and cunnilingus and even a few depictions of sodomy and bondage. Several teams sent only male participants or only female participants to perform  — much to the delight of the audience. One extremely creative team enacted their version of the cult horror film The Human Centipede*. Hundreds of cameras snapped pictures and cellphones captured video that would be uploaded to YouTube as soon as a strong (and free) WIFI signal was available. It was unbelievable.

When it was all over, winners were crowned, prizes were distributed and the teams were lavished with wild praise. Mrs. P and I were bewildered. Up to this point, we thought we had seen everything there was to see on a cruise ship. We discovered that there was more to cruising than just deck chairs and an endless buffet.

*Don't search this at work.

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and now you're even older

Okay. Okay. One more story about the cruise and then I'll stop. Promise.*

On our first evening, Mrs. P and I ate dinner in one of the ship's dining rooms. We each had the same thing — a tiny portion of broiled cod, a dollop of parsley mashed potatoes and a single sprig of broccoli. Of course, we could have opted to order six or seven more complete servings, but it was only our first night. After dinner, we paid a short visit to the casino (we won!) and then headed to a scheduled session of "Name That Tune" that was to take place in one of the many lounges on board.

The lounge was beginning to fill up as eager participants and tipsy observers grabbed themselves one of the many mismatched chairs and love seats that were scattered about the room. Mrs P and I selected a pair of overstuffed armchairs. Another couple soon approached and asked if the two seats next to us were occupied. We answered "no," and welcomed them to join us. They were considerably younger than we are and, if I had to venture a guess, I would have put their ages somewhere in the area of our son's (middle 20s). 

Past experiences have proven that in the early days of a cruise, guests tend to be very friendly in hopes of securing an on-board friendship that will last for the entire trip. We started right in, turning on our "friendly" full-blast, asking the standard "where are you from" and "what do you do" questions. After the initial ice-breaking, the young lady of the pair leaned in close to Mrs. P and whispered confidentially, "Are you two a couple?" 

My wife looked the woman in the eye and, though puzzled by the inquiry, replied with a broad clarifying question, "What do you mean?"

"I mean are you two married?," the young woman asked with earnest in her voice.

"Yes, of course." Mrs. P answered, "Why do you ask?"

She kind of wrinkled up her face and pointed in my direction, "Well, he's obviously so much older than you. I just figured that he picked you up in a bar or something and asked you to come on this cruise." 

Mrs. P smiled. Then laughed. Then she told me about her little exchange with her new best friend.

And she laughed again.

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* this should not be taken as a binding guarantee.

it's important to me

Mrs. P and I just returned from our third cruise in as many years. While we did have a good time — a great time, as a matter of fact — each cruise was nearly identical. Yeah, they each had the same itinerary (two days at sea, stop at Port Canaveral, Florida, stop at Norwegian Cruise Lines' private island, stop at Nassau, Bahamas, then two more days at sea), but I mean the overall experience was the same. There were scheduled activities, 24 hour-a-day food, high energy, yet campy, shows and... did I mention there was food 24 hours-a-day?

The early part of the cruise is sort of a self-orientation period. After boarding the ship, the first activity is, of course, a visit to the buffet. Here, one can get a preview of the obscene amounts of food that will be abundantly available for the next seven days. During your third or fourth helping of spicy citrus cole slaw and pomegranate cheesecake brûlée, the PA crackles to life with the announcement that the staterooms are ready. Then after unpacking your belongings into the tiny drawers and skinny closets of your cabin, all guests are instructed to gather at a designated area for a mandatory life boat drill. Federal maritime law and the International Brotherhood of Seafarers (I think) require all cruise lines to have a life boat drill prior to launch. (That's launch, not lunch. For Chrissakes, you just ate lunch!) 

All cruise lines treat the life boat drill differently. Some are rigid and deadly serious, requiring passengers to don life jackets and stand silently by their appointed lifeboats. Others, like Norwegian, are more relaxed, merely having guests gather, sans life jackets, in an on-board restaurant, bar or other common area and sit through a five minute run-through of some loud air-horn blasts. At 2:30 sharp, Mrs. P and I joined our fellow "Section G1"s and waited until we were given the "all clear." We sat at a table in one of the ship's formal dining rooms as other guests filed in at staggered intervals. Slowly. Very slowly. A crew member in an official-looking vest checked names off on an official-looking clipboard. Several other crew members in equally official-looking vests, circled through the assembled crowd counting and recounting. The first crew member announced that we would begin once everyone from our section was accounted for. People were trickling in at 2:45. Others stumbled in as the clock approached 3 o'clock. At thirty minutes after the designated time, people were still entering the "G1" area, kicking punctuality to the proverbial curb. Finally, with everyone in attendance, the alarms sounded and the drill was completed. Everyone filed out and, most likely, headed back to the buffet.

Once the ship crossed the 12 nautical mile mark, the on-board casino sprang to life with the ringing of slot machines and the shrieking of winners. The casino remained open for the next consecutive 48 hours, as the ship cut its way down the eastern seaboard in international waters toward Florida and all points south. When the vessel entered Port Canaveral, slot machines were silenced, chips were stacked and locked up and the casino emptied as passengers took the gangway out to the various available shore excursions.

Mrs. P and I returned from our shore excursion, a full day at Downtown Disney, the shopping district at Walt Disney World. We made our way back on to the ship and walked through the closed casino. We nearly screeched to a stop. Every single seat at every single blackjack table was occupied, as were the seats at every slot machine and all available space at the craps tables. The casino would not open for at least ninety minutes, as buses arrived from various shore excursion destinations. Yet guests had already staked their territory, not wanting to miss a single second of gambling activity. I recognized some as the same people who sauntered in late for the life boat drill. 

When it comes to personal safety and gambling, it was clear which was a priority. The early bird gets to double down.

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the camp with the difference

Remember summer camp when you were a kid? The anticipation as the school year came to a close. The agonizing, yet exciting, ritual of deciding what to pack. Eight weeks worth of activities (both fun and strenuous), meals and new friends. Small, cramped sleeping quarters with all of your belongings neatly crammed into bedside shelves — t-shirts and underwear unnaturally co-mingling. But you were a kid and that's what you did.

Well, that's essentially what a cruise is — summer camp for adults. And because we are adults, we don't have a spare eight weeks to set aside for such frivolity. We have to get back to our jobs, our families, our lives. One week will do just fine. Give me one week to gorge like a pig, soak up some sun, see a foreign country and meet some new people that I will develop a close bond with, then probably never see again. Yep, one week should do it.

My wife and I just returned from our second cruise. Last year, at the end of our first cruise, I was surprised by the good time I had, but I expressed to Mrs. P that any subsequent cruise would be exactly the same. And, with very few exceptions, I was right. Of course, there was food — and a whole lot of it. The most noticeable difference between this cruise and the last one food-wise, was the presence of self-serve soft ice cream machines in our recent ship's buffet. I took full advantage of this, having consumed somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty cones in one week's time.

"Is that a pole right outside
your cabin door? It sure is!"

Our ship, the enormous Norwegian Breakaway, followed the same itinerary as last year's Norwegian Gem. The Breakaway is the fifth largest cruise ship in the world, and it boasts a passenger count of 4000. That's right - four thousand people. The puny Gem was about half the size and made for a more intimate trip. Although we latched onto several "ship buddies," we found ourselves marveling at the hordes of unfamiliar faces on-board on Days Five and Six. "Were these people here all week?." we thought. "Did they just board this morning, in the middle of the ocean?"

The activities aboard range from wall-climbing and zip lines to trivia contests and towel-folding demonstrations. Mrs. P and I, however, grit our teeth and dove headfirst into the most adventurous activity we have ever participated in — karaoke. I am a show-off, by nature, but I am very aware of the fact that I cannot carry a tune in a bucket. Mrs. P, on the other hand, can sing, but shuns the spotlight like a mole. We are the last people who should be having the karaoke experience. But, we figured, what the hell!, we're never gonna see these people again. Our new pal Chris, a young man from Sheffield, England who was the same age as our son, was a karaoke aficionado. We watched him perform several times, cheering him on with wild applause. He was no Pavarotti, but he had a pleasant voice, that obviously got better with every beer he (and the audience) downed. And he was a bit self-conscious, asking, as a participant warbled out a horribly strained and off-key rendition of Bon Jovi's "Livin' On a Prayer," "Am I that bad?" We assured Chris that he was not. That no one was.

"Offer me solutions, offer me
alternatives and I decline."

As Chris presented his version of "Bohemian Rhapsody" in his charming British accent, I perused the song list and selected REM's anthemic "It's The End of The World (As We Know It)," with which to serenade the crowd — or clear the room. Before my name was called to perform, we watched a man playfully belt out "Mrs. Brown, You've Got a Lovely Daughter." We sang along in our best/worst mock British accent, innocently dissing poor Chris.

The DJ announced my name and I took the stage, grabbed the mic and stumbled my way through the onslaught of Michael Stipe's lyrics, as they quickly flashed across the screen. Some incorrect words tripped me up a few times, and I lost track of the tune, but, no one ran out screaming, so I considered it a success. After some real singers (including a lovely, yet totally hammered, young woman offering a heartfelt rendition of "At Last" to her expressionless husband), Mrs. P. joined me again onstage for a drawn-out take on Marty Robbins' cowboy ballad, "El Paso." We were terrible and we didn't care. We capped the evening with an abbreviated version of the epic "American Pie," even forcing poor Chris to make us a trio.

Did we have fun? Sure, we did. Will I cruise again? I suppose, but, again, I can't see the experience being any different than the last two.

What's that? Mrs. P is already making plans.....? (Mrs. P went to summer camp. I didn't.)

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we've been sailing with a cargo full of love and devotion

People on vacation fascinate me. I mean, you're on vacation! It's a time to let the thoughts of the real world disappear. Don't think about work. Don't think about school. Don't think of "how on earth are we gonna pay for this fucking trip?" Just relax - in whatever form your relaxation takes. My wife can sit in a lounge chair by a pool for hours and hours. She can also sit in front of a slot machine for hours and hours. I, however, do not have a lot of patience to sit and do nothing or to sit and tap the "SPIN" button on a slot machine for much longer than fifteen minutes. If I am on vacation, I want to be active and entertained. Hang on a second! I don't mean jogging or some kind of – yeeeesh! – sport. I mean watching some sort of activity, like a show, or participating in a game (a not-too-strenuous game, mind you). Or eating. I like to eat.

Mrs. Pincus and I went on a cruise the final week of May. It was my first and Mrs. P's second. (Last year, she went on a 9-day adventure with her extended family. Despite being not invited to go along, I maintained there wasn't a ship big enough to get me to join that expedition.) I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of cruising, what with all of the recent horror stories of on-board fires, collisions with sandbars and power losses resulting in shit-clogged hallways, but I consented for the sake of my spouse.

We were picked up by a hired shuttle bright and early. During the two-hour trek to New York's Pier 88, we were treated to the life story of the family seated in front of us. Mom and Dad were taking little Billy on a cruise, as he had just graduated from college with a double major and a triple minor in who-gives-a-shit. We also learned that little Billy had Tourette's. (We did not ask, notice nor care.) Then, everyone had to say "Goodbye" to Mom-Mom via cellphone and remind her to feed and walk the dog. (Yes, the ride was only two hours.) I thought, "If this is any indication of what the next seven days will be like, just drop me off on the New Jersey Turnpike. I'll walk home."

Once through luggage drop-off and security, we were forced to pose for the first of many "professional" photos and we boarded the ship – a vessel that resembled a skyscraper laying on its side. We wandered around the upper decks (where we found Waldo). An announcement was made informing boarding vacationers that their cabins were not yet ready, but that the buffet was. So we ate. And ate. And ate. The quantity and availability of food was obscene. One morning, we came out of the breakfast buffet, took eight steps and they were setting up for lunch at an outdoor buffet – and people were already queuing up with plates poised at the ready.

Much to my pleasure, we were entertained nightly by either a slightly-hokey troupe of singers and dancers or some sort of participatory activity (trivia contests, karaoke, Pictionary). On one particular evening, I was awarded the top prize of a shitty bottle of champagne for telling the best joke. (THIS ONE, as a matter of fact.) Adding to our entertainment, Mrs. P and I met a trio of ladies who were jointly celebrating their 40th birthdays and a sweet couple who were young enough to be our children. At one point, they actually fought over which night we would join them for dinner. Two of the three women were indifferent towards the couple, but C. (my wife's newly-adopted gambling companion) dismissively referred to the pair as "Oklahoma and The Blond Girl."

The highlight of the week occurred one evening as my wife and I headed to the main dining room for dinner. We stopped briefly to peruse the hundreds of photographs taken at various points throughout the ship and now on display in cases near the main lobby. Suddenly, screams pierced the low murmurs of the dinnertime crowds. A couple was blocking the entrance to the duty-free gift shop and yelling at top volume. The man, his face screwed into an angry knot, spat obscenity after obscenity at his wife. She returned the volley with words carefully chosen to match his verbal salvo. The longer their fracas lasted the more heated it grew. The surrounding crowds slowed their pace as they neared the quarrelers, but they were oblivious, instead focusing their full attention to the most profane insults they could muster. All I could think was, "They are on vacation. They are in 'relaxed' mode. What's their home life like?" It was another evening's entertainment for me.

Oh, and Nassau is a shit hole.

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