Lobster Night

Heavens to Betsy. We slept until nearly 10 Thursday morning. I woke up to find our room attendant putting a mirror under my nose! This nightly time change is going to kill me.

Having gotten up so late, Bill and I simply bagged breakfast and started our day with lunch. After lunch, we went to a lesson on beginning French. The young woman teaching the class handed us a vocabulary sheet, and we quickly noticed that she was teaching such phrases as “Where are you from?” and “How old are you?” Nowhere on the sheet did I see anything quite as useful as “Could I please have two glasses of red wine?” Now, Bill and I have spent enough time in France to know that there is not a single French man or woman who is going to ask me where I'm from because they couldn't possibly be less interested. And I can't imagine a circumstance under which I would ask anyone in France (or elsewhere, for that matter) how old they are. As for ordering wine, I guess I can hold up two fingers and say vin rouge.

The treadmills in the health club are lined up in front of a huge window in the front of the ship, so as we walk on the treadmill, we see the same thing the captain sees as he commandeers the ship. As I walked this morning, I noticed that the sea appears to be calm. I didn't see a single white cap. And yet, the ship seems to be rocking and rolling a lot more than it has been. I didn't hear the captain's noon report, so it might just be my imagination.

Anyone who has been on a cruise knows that there is no bigger occasion on the ship than LOBSTER NIGHT! And Thursday night was the big night. Clad in our dressy attire (it was the ship's second formal night), we enjoyed the massive lobster tail and shrimp that were laying in a pool of garlicky butter. It was immensely good. Nearly everyone in the dining room ordered it, and you saw plenty of people licking their fingers or dipping their bread in the flavorful butter.

Speaking of dinner, I will tell you a bit about our table mates for this first cruise. We once again lucked out and are dining with interesting and fun travelers.

There are eight of us at our table. Two of the diners are kind of hit and miss. In fact, given that they haven't been at the table for the past couple of nights might mean they have chosen to dine elsewhere. Peter and Tula are originally from Greece, but currently live in Florida. He speaks with a heavy Greek accent, and she rarely speaks at all. I see him daily in the gym, lifting massive weights.

Rich and Ellie are originally from New York City, but currently live in a town near Orlando, Florida. (It is interesting to note that Bill and I are the only ones at our table who don't live in Florida.) Rich and Ellie grew up a few houses from each other in the Italian section of the Bronx, and have known each other their whole lives. They were married right out of high school. He was a New York police detective, and then took a job in security for the Whitney Museum after retiring from the police force. She stayed home until the kids were grown, and then was in administration for IBM. He is a wannabe writer and tells wonderful stories during dinner.

The last couple, Harry and Babe (I think her name is Mary, but she introduced herself to us as Babe) also hails from NYC. Harry grew up in the tenements on the lower east side of Manhattan. He is one of 11 children. He told us last night that his father was a rabbi and his mother cooked. He was in the retail clothing business. He loves the New York Post and the Mets, and adores Babe. He was married once before, but his wife died. He met Babe a few years later. He told me the other night that he has only loved two women in his life -- his wife and Babe. Babe is a tiny woman who, oddly enough, also worked for IBM, and who lives to play tennis.

Following dinner, Bill and I changed into our swim suits and soaked in one of the hot tubs for a bit. We watched the sun set, then went to bed early (though we had to changed the clocks again, so we still lost an hour of sleep).

Friday is supposed to be cooler and rockier.