By Chan Lowe
4:20 PM EST, February 15, 2013
My biggest fear about cruising isn’t that the engine’s going to blow up, or that I’m going catch some rare and horrible necrotic disease—both valid concerns—but that I’m going to draw mandatory assigned dinner seating at a table with some nice couple from Kansas that believes Adam and Eve coexisted with the dinosaurs. Or that women have a way of shutting that whole thing down when they’re legitimately raped.
That’s the problem with cruises. You can’t escape the other inmates. You have to learn to get along with them or your vacation is sunk. This is why, years ago, some cruise companies stopped advertising in New York media outlets. Customers from more benign parts of the country were complaining that the people from the Tri-State Area were ruining it for everybody else.
And another thing: the gambling. You’re on a vessel that’s pitching back and forth on the high seas, and you’re supposed to believe the roulette wheel isn’t rigged? I can almost hear the officer on duty on the bridge now: “Somebody just put ten grand on red 32. Helmsman! Hard a-starboard—put your back into it, man!”
Give me a lounge chair in the back yard any day. It’s hassle-free, there’s no manufactured fun being shoved down your throat, and the DVDs I borrow from the library are way better than the live entertainment on shipboard. The bed’s more comfortable too.
And my dog gets to come along.
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